How to love

twenty-two: Grey sweatpants

Frankie's point of view:

"I think we have everything, Miss Fields." Constable Jefferys says, tucking away the black notepad in his inner jacket. "I must stress however how much we recommend you don't stay within the premises tonight. At least not until the forensic report is back and especially until the door is repaired. Is there anywhere you can go, someone you can stay with?"

"She can stay with me." Jason replies quickly.

Constable Jefferys nods and smiles at me sympathetically. "The forensic team will be in touch as soon as they know anything. We'll be in touch, Miss Fields."

The crunches of broken glass squeak beneath Jason's feet as he walks the officer to the broken door. Still numb, I pull tighter on Jason's suit jacket that he wrapped around my shoulders and stand just as still as I had been the past hour.

My entire home was ruined. Every picture, broken. The couch, ripped. The kitchen, smashed. My bedroom, upside down. My safe haven was completely and utterly destroyed. Officers had arrived in minutes, forensic team quick to follow to swab the broken lock and opened cupboard doors. With the officers, and Jason's, help we discovered that nothing was missing. My jewellery box was emptied over my dresser but everything was still there, my clothes threw and ripped into shreds on the bedroom floor, but nothing stole.

It was a hatred crime - not a burglary.

They didn't want to steal my possessions, they wanted to ruin them.

"Frankie?"

Jason reappeared, his bow tie missing and his top two buttons of his shirt undone. The wrinkles crease across his forehead and his eyes swam with worry and concern. I open my mouth to speak, but the words jam in my throat.

"Do you want to grab a few things?" He asks softly, cautiously tiptoeing over the hazards on the floor. "You can stay at mine until the report comes back and until the locks get fixed."

"I-I don't want to intru-"

"Don't even finish that." He interrupts. "Go on, grab a few things and lets get out of here. Graham's waiting."

I slip of his jacket, handing it back to him before creeping down the hallway. My skin crawled with every step, uncomfortable goosebumps covering me from head-to-toe. I wasn't safe here any more. This wasn't my home.

Stuffing a handful of clothes that weren't torn into a old gym bag, I lower myself to the bottom drawer and hunt for the wooden box that was hidden beneath clothes. I almost cried in relief as my fingers graze the sharp corners. Packing it inside my bag, I lug it over my shoulder and meet Jason back in the living room.

"I thought you would want this." He says quietly. He twiddled with something between his fingers and hands me it cautiously. The photo frame that it sat in was smashed into smithereens but the perfect picture was still intact. My parents, myself and my sister.

"Thank you." I shakily whisper. "I think I-I have everything."

He slips the bag from my shoulder and tosses it over his own, then holds a welcoming hand out. "Come on."

With my trembling hand clenching his, he leads me back downstairs and out into the car. As Graham drives away from my apartment block, the nausea pulses in my throat as realisation becomes clear. Someone was out to get me - but why?

"There's a officer going to wait at your apartment until the locks get changed in the morning." Jason tells me, stuffing his cell back into his trouser pocket. "I still don't feel safe enough for you to go back there."

"I don't have a choice."

"You do." He replies quickly. Clearing his throat and fluttering his eyes away from my confused gaze, he reaches to scratch the back of his flushed neck. "Christmas is in a week - then you're going home to spend the holidays with your family but until then I'd - I'd like it if you were to stay with me. I mean, well, my house is big enough to stay at separate ends if you would like and at least then it would give the officers a while longer to catch the culprit in case they go back to your apartment."