Don't Hurt Me

Fancy wine & a heart to heart

"I've come to collect some things Joan left for me." Three days since Joan's death, and my heart still hasn't come to terms with it. I know it has only been seventy two hours, but I thought my heart would've registered the news by now. My head has been all over the place, with packing up the flat (again) and sorting out Paper Birds for Daphne, when I rang the buzzer to Joan's flat, I forgot Angie was still living here. Well, she was living here; she has packed up a suitcase which is standing in the corner by the front door.

"Okay, just do what you need to do and lock the place up when you go," She awkwardly says, throwing her handbag over her shoulder, grabbing the suitcase by its handle.

"Are you not staying for Jo's funeral?" I find myself questioning her. She stops in her tracks, a sigh of sadness escapes her lips. She turns around to face me.

"No I'm not. This is Jo's flat, and she isn't here anymore. This isn't my home anymore, so I'm off." Angie replies. Her eyes glaze over, as they tear up, but she doesn't allow them to fall.

"After everything Jo did for you, and you can't even stick around to say goodbye to her!" I scoff at my mother. Typical Angie - as soon as she's got what she needs, you'll never see her again, until she is knee deep in trouble. Pathetic if you ask me.

"I said my goodbye! I sat in the hospital with her when she was getting chemo. I was with her when she went to sort out her will. I was with her when she would break down in tears right in this very flat so don't you tell me about sticking around to say goodbye!" Angie raises her voice at me, the tears spilling down her face, not showing any signs of stopping. Guilt pierces its claws into my chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, forget it. Just lock the door on your way out." Is all she says, before leaving me dumbfound. I get back to retrieving the things Jo left for me to keep, batting away the guilty feeling that has now resigned in the pit of my stomach. Entering the living room to gather the Russian dolls on top of the TV stand, I look around, the quietness of the entire flat is unsettling. Jo would have some Motown on, or Whitney Houston - she loved Whitney - the music playing loud and proud throughout the tiny flat. Glancing at her favourite chair, I picture her in it. I remember when she would cradle me as a child, playing with my hair as I drift off to sleep.  I miss her so much.

Not wanting to stay any longer in the flat, I leave in a hurry, locking the door behind me. Stepping outside, the cold breeze of autumn brushes past my cheeks, causing me to shiver. I get on my bus, the journey silent. I know the other passengers are whispering about me. I look like death's offspring. Coming off at my stop and walking towards the apartment, I notice a familiar car parked outside. The tinted windows alone narrowed down who could be sat in the front seat of this fancy sports car. Approaching the car, I tap the window, waiting to see the mystery person.

"Didn't I get rid of you a few days ago?" I say as the window rolls down, Xavier's blue eyes stare back at me.

"You did, but I got a call from Daphne. I would've been here sooner, but things at work have been hectic." He replies. I step back, giving him space to step out of his transformer of a car, in his hand a bottle of what looks like very expensive wine.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm sure Daphne made it sound as if I wasn't coping, but I am, so you don't have to stay around." I throw on my most convincing smile, even though I know Xavier can see right through it.

"You're coping?" He echoes my words. I nod my head, causing him to chuckle. "So you're eyes are puffy and red because?"

"Allergies?" Nice try Ziayn. Nice try. Xavier shakes his head, smiling at my horrible attempt to cover up my true emotions. He holds the bottle of alcohol up, and I smile slightly. "Fine you can come in."