2 One.

November.

I was running, fast. Faster than I ever remember being able to run. My mind was numb, empty, spacious.

I don't recall ever feeling this way, so broken and heartless. My whole body working on auto-pilot, running, running, running.

I couldn't feel the pain I was sure my feet were in, the soles slapping loudly against the carpet as I darted down the hallways, shoes discarded somewhere on the top floor. My hands scrape the walls, clinging to any object I could find to stay upright.

I was aware I was making a tonne of noise, I just didn't care about it. Everyone had left hours ago and no-one was here, evident by the scratch in my throat from screaming painfully, reminding me every-time I breathe, just how quickly I needed to get out.

Navigating the mansion was easy for me, I knew it inside out. Flying through hallways I finally reach the stairs, my breath coming out in pants, feeling like I had ran a marathon as I grip the bar and push through the pain.

It was starting to come back to me, the truth of my disastrous night. I wasn't ready, not yet. Not until I got out. I needed to get out.

My knees buckle underneath the weight of my body, being held of the ground for most of the night it wasn't a surprise to me that they felt like jelly. I convince myself the pain wasn't real and keep pushing on. Through the hallway at the bottom of the stairs and into the open plan front room.

I can hear the dripping of blood, falling from my skin. I don't dare to stop and search for wounds, I knew this was my only chance. To get out, to forget, before the evidence was found and the story of the worst night of my life was on everyone's lips.

If I had stopped in that room, even once.

To check my wounds, to rub my aching, bruised wrists.

To slip on a pair of shoes from the shoe-rack.

To do anything but run.

I would've seen him, I could've prevented my world from turning upside down.

I could've saved myself the extra trauma, the extra heart-break.

But I didn't, I ran out of that house, down the street and directly home. Ran so fast, like my life depended on it, because truthfully. It did.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a week after the party that Amelia finds me, curled up in my shower, head against the glass. I had spent many days in here, crying my eyes out whilst scolding hot water smashes against my skin.

I don't remember each day, they were all a blur. I had come home, scrubbed my skin dry, until it was red and burning. Then I had climbed into bed, stared at the ceiling and awaited sleep. It never came, not the day after, or the day after that.

I had crashed briefly on the third or fourth day, only to awake in a cold sweat and heart racing like I had ran a marathon. I don't recall the dream, or should I say nightmare, but I remember the fear in my bones when I awoke and that in itself put me off trying to sleep again. So here I was, under my shower. Trying to clear my skin of the memories.

"November oh my god" Amelia's hands reach for me and I flinch away on instinct, staring at them in disgust and growling softly. I clamber to the back of my shower and curl into myself, not wanting her to see me. Not wanting anyone to see me. Not wanting to be here.

"November I thought you were dead, what the hell is going on with you!" Her voice is frantic, it sounds like it underwater. Everything sounds like its under-water. A blur, my life was a blur. The world was a blur.

"November! Are you listening to me?" Her hands reach for me again and I pull back, head hitting the tiles at the back of shower and everything goes blank.

Blank, like my body, like my brain, like my heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I awake to white walls, white bed sheets, white ceilings and a white light shining down on me. I squint against the brightness of the room and groan lightly. My head feels light, infact everything feels light. I shiver at the coldness of the room and attempt to re-open my heavy eyelids.

When I finally do, I wished I hadn't.

The beeping of my heart monitor skyrockets and my throat seems to close up, my hands reach up to scratch it, remove the restrictions around it but they feel bound. I can remember the feeling of being trapped and it washes over my like I was re-living it. I was trapped.

I was trapped.

My eyes dart over him, his eyes, his face, his clothes, his shoes, his hands.

The hands that held me, the hands that touched me, ran all over my body and refused to give up. The face that hovered over me, the mouth that touched my skin.

I was on fire all over again, the fear replacing any form of lightness I felt in my body.

I lean over the side of the bed and throw up, I hear frantic yells and distant voices but all my mind keeps repeating is the scenes of last weekend.

I need to shower, I need to be clean, I need to be calm.

Tears spill down my cheeks and I try to get up from the hospital bed but I fail as the tubes in my arms keep me hostage. I feel trapped again, the panic rising in my chest.

Then one name breaks the haze of my brain and my body calms instantly, it isn't him. It's not him.

I feel a sense of calm wash over me, the almost empty emotion returning as I relax back down into the bed.

"November!" Amelias voice meets my ears as I settle down and turn to her, I try to smile but I'm sure its just a grimace. I notice that Alex had left the room and I feel myself calm down even more.

"Hey Lia" my voice is scratchy and exhausted, I feel so disgusted with myself. I would never been caught dead acting so erratic, but here I was. Crying in a hospital room, half dead and wishing the other half to just happen already.

"What the hell is going on November? No more lies. I want the cold hard truth"