As the week progressed, my confidence began to waver. Eventually it was Monday, and it was the first morning in weeks that i’d woken up with no lingering thoughts from my past. My sheets were still intact, which was unusual, compared to my typical morning of discovering nail sized rips on the cotton surrounding me.

I sat up in bed and reached for my diary. I flipped through pages consumed by black ink and caught glimpses of the range of emotions the book contained. I grimaced when I thought about what would be written on the first few pages, when the concept of a diary was a new idea, that I had bitterly accepted from my psychologist.

As I was about to write about the strange, but relieving, awakening i’d experienced this morning, I heard voices. The sounds echoed from downstairs and filled our mahogany home with a muffling, that caused my whole body to feel hot with realization. Despite being unable to decode the muffled sounds, the deep throaty laughter I was hearing was definitely not Grace, or my mother.

It wasn’t just ‘another crappy start to the week,’ Monday, it was ‘supposed to go to a meeting with Harry’s management,’ Monday. I’d worked out a plan during my panic last night, and I had every intention to carry it out. Unfortunately, simply avoiding going to the meeting was not an option, as it seemed the one person I was attempting to avoid, was now downstairs, in my kitchen, sounding disturbingly cheerful.

I had to think quickly, so I did what Emily always did, I ran.

After throwing on clothes I found on the ground, scraping my hair back, and making my face acceptable, all as quietly as possible for someone as clumsy as me, I began scraping my daytime essentials into a backpack I found in the hall; ipod, phone, pens, reading and writing books, and of course my wallet. I knew I couldn’t just walk downstairs, out the front door, and straight to my car, and I also knew that mum would be leaving for work in 20 minutes, so I did the only plausible thing, I jumped from my window.

Brushing the dirt and grass from my legs filled me with a sense of familiarity, but the experience of climbing that window, and jumping from the large tree in my front yard, was tainted by the sunlight, which seemed to burn around me like a spotlight. I quickly turned in the opposite direction and began to walk. I had only taken about 10 steps when I heard someone shouting.

“Harry, is that her?” the boys voice echoed down the street. Oh crap, oh crap, I thought, what now?

I continued down the street as if I hadn’t heard it, but this attempt became feeble when I heard the padding feet of a running boy behind me. At that point I was just so done with it all, that I surprised both Harry and myself, by quickly turning around and halting, before he had even attempted to stop me himself.

We stared at each other for what felt like a long time. His expression changed from shocked, to smug and finally discomfort. Eventually I sighed and started to turn around, as the silence had just become annoying. I was halfway turned when he decided to say something.

“No” He screamed.

I was about to just continue walking but what he said next intrigued me.

“How could you?” He sounded exasperated and when I turned to face him he was holding his heart, as a pained expression painted his face.

I raised my eyebrows, prompting him to explain, but he just continued to stare at me like I had just committed a serious murder.

“What did I do now?” I replied, my tone was even, a huge juxtaposition from my erratic heartbeat.

“Him? Despite experiencing the pleasure of an intimate lunch with me...you choose him?” He was obviously being sarcastic, but the hint of annoyance in his tone sounded disturbingly real.

“What the hell are you talking about? and why the hell am I still listening to you?” I spat.

I turned to walk away again, but he did that annoying thing where he loops his finger around my backpack strap, and prevents me from leaving. However, this time he completely extracted the bag from my back and held it up for me to see.

“This. This is what i’m on about, daft girl. Niall? I mean from experiencing your table manners I can see where you two would relate, but you don’t strike me as a Niall girl” He was smirking now and halfway through his outburst he began to laugh.

I realized the backpack I found in the hall was Grace’s stupid One Direction one, containing the image of one of the members on the front, the boy Harry was accusing me of being infatuated with. Instead of explaining the mix-up to him, I decided to mess with him a bit.

Craning my neck to the side, my eyes roamed the image on the backpack, as I pretended to check the boy out. I looked down quickly and shuffled uncomfortably in an attempt to look bashful.

“I mean... he is cute” I said, eyes finally meeting the green ones before me.

“You little...” he started, but before he could finish, his arms wrapped around my waist as he hauled me up over his shoulder, and carried me back towards my house. I flayed around wildly, until I realized he was too strong. The entire way back I was harshly whispering profanities into his ear, as his continuos chuckle vibrated against me.

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