Olivia

And with that, Dan walked out the door and closed it behind him, leaving me to my thoughts.

Which weren't as peaceful as they seemed.

Why would you tell him?! Why?! You've never told anyone before! I felt like I wanted to rip my face off and throw everything in sight out the window, including myself, but I remained sat there with the expression of a brick.

Why in the world would you tell him? What if he tells Phil as part of his explanation? Well, he can knock himself out but what if, come Christmas dinner, Phil decides to say to my parents, "so, I never knew that Olivia was bisexual!"?

I came so close right then to bashing my head against the wall repeatedly.

That would be awful! Imagine how they would react! They've always liked to pretend that gay people don't exist. They would disown me!

Then a small voice piped up in my head. But they didn't disown your sister.

This gave me newfound hope. My half sister, Skye, wasn't disowned by our mother when she came out. She's bisexual too, but we have different fathers who would react in different ways. My father would encourage my mother to pretend I didn't exist, but she wouldn't want to listen. I know she wouldn't.

I have no idea how long I sat there playing out different circumstances in my mind, but the moon was illuminating Dan's bedroom by the time I was dragged back to reality by a shout of, "You don't love me and you never will! That's all that matters!" and the slam of a door. Instinctively, I ran to the source of the sound. I found Dan staring hopelessly at the closed door, tears in his eyes, drinking in Phil's words, which were lingering in the air. I put my hand on his shoulder consolingly, but he brushed me off and his eyes dried instantly. That made me smile. As soon as he had realised that he was still on this planet he remained strong.

I'd never be able to do that.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he sighed and dragged his feet to his bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. The silence must have been deafening, because it was only after I heard the close of his door that I realised that I could hear soft sobs seeping out of my bedroom door. I felt like Phil needed time to himself, so I waited outside until his tears ceased before quietly opening the door, careful not to make a sound. When I saw him, I expected him to be asleep, but he was wide awake. I guess he'd just run out of tears. I walked slowly over to him. He still hadn't seen me. I wiped my hand across his forehead, wiping some of the horrible thoughts away. He looked at me, his huge blue eyes full of mercy. I kissed his forehead - as a blessing - and headed off to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. Crying makes you thirsty. I would know - I'd had three years to get familiar with it.

When I had returned with his water, Phil was still staring at the spot he had been staring at moments before. When I presented his water, he drank it down slowly, but thirstily, as if he was dying of thirst, but would prefer to. Once he was hydrated, another tear leaked out his already bloodshot eyes. He needed his own bed. And I needed to sleep. I picked him up - god, he was heavy, but I stayed strong for him and willed myself to not crumple - and carried him to his bed. I laid him down gently and pulled up a chair next to him. I knew he didn't want to talk, so I continually wiped his forehead, hoping to brush away his sorrow. Eventually, he fell asleep. It had taken three hours, but he had. I went back to the kitchen and filled up a water bottle for him, and then made for my bedroom to grab a little skull-shaped bottle with clear liquid in it. Once I was back at Phil's side, I set down the water bottle on his bedside table, and dipped my finger in the skull bottle.

In this bottle was a perfume I once made. It was designed for wearing, but also for blessing. I wafted my hand around the air near Phil's face, the scent of the potion working its way into his mind to help soothe his pain. I closed the little bottle and slipped out through the door, closing it softly behind me. I went back to my own bedroom, set down the skull bottle on my desk and just looked around at my room. It's gothic style seemed to calm me. I slid into my bed and slept.