"I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry."

― Marya Hornbacher

The moonlight streaming through the window opposite her bed woke Lorraine up. She screwed up her face as her eyes got adjusted to the luminescent light. Slowly, she reached over and pressed the home button on her mobile, the screen projecting more light back on to her face.

3.28 am.

Lorraine groaned, and flopped back on to her mattress, staring at the white ceiling of her bedroom. Unconsciously, her right hand brushed over her stomach, making it churn. Even through her pyjamas, she could feel the skin of her stomach pressing against the cool material.

She shook her head slightly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She hated this. She hated when she woke up in the middle of the night, because, while it was dark outside, nothing belonged to her. She became a possession of the dark and cruel world of the night. She could feel the darkness creeping in, and clouding her vision. Sometimes, it pressed her chest so tightly that she found it hard to breathe, her cries muffled, and her breathing became more and more rapid as she desperately tried to fill her lungs.

At times like these, she became consumed by the images of people she knew – her mum, Sonya, and more recently, Michael and Nicki had been making appearances. She got flashes of their faces, which quickly contorted into her own face, her own eyes pitying her until she couldn't handle it anymore. She would scream at herself to go away, when she really knew that was impossible.

She would ball her hands into fists and try to lash out at whatever was closest, her pillows, a nightstand, her own body. She would stand in her full length mirror, light only by the moon, and stare at herself silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked ghostly at these times, the light reflecting off her blonde hair, and her tears. She would pinch the skin around her stomach with two fingers, shaking her head at the sight.

She couldn't remember back when this had started. This feeling that she was always running from something, someone. She felt like she could never take a break, never slow down. Never let people get too close, is what she told herself, because when you let people in, that's when the shit hits the fan. That's when they try to change you, and if there was one thing that Lorraine Donnegan didn't need, it was change.

She had worked so hard, since she was a teenager, to portray herself as a well-put-together individual, making sure her hair was always immaculate, her make-up done to perfection, her clothes always of the latest trend. She began striving for the unreachable, all the time lying to herself that it was attainable. She thought that if one aspect of herself was perfect, the others would just work out in suit.

Once she got her mind stuck on something, it completely consumed her, and she thought of nothing else. That's why she had been so scared to let her guard down with Nicki, she thought, because once you have to think of someone else, you let yourself fall by the wayside. And she couldn't let that happen, she'd been trying for so long to be perfect, to be the one everyone wanted to be, to be the woman that people stop in the street to look at when she walks by.

She had realised a long time ago, that her weight was very important to her image. Once someone saw you as the skinny woman, you just couldn't change that perception, God no. Her weight was something that Lorraine could control something that, when she had nothing else, she was in charge of, and she had the final say on. She wasn't fully in control in business, she wasn't fully in control in her relationships, but saying what did and didn't go in, or come out, of her mouth, was totally up to her.

She breathed shallow and stared steely at her reflection, raising a hand to wipe away her tears. She felt sick, but she turned away from the snivelling wreck that seemed to be mirroring every action, and returned to her bed.

She lay under the cool sheets, suddenly wishing someone was here. Someone who would listen, and hold her when she wanted, and give her space when she didn't. Someone who would lie beside her in the silence, not speaking, but somehow understanding.

She had tried for so long, to be seen as a sort of statue of a person, not really full human. When you're human, you can get hurt, and when you get hurt, you break. And people let you down. And people leave. And it's just easier if you're not human.

Lorraine had tried to for so long to avoid people, just in case she had actually started to care about them. Even when people brought their heads too close to hers when talking, it made her wince inside. Every time someone quickly laid a hand on her arm when they were talking, their touch burned her skin. And she didn't want that anymore.

A thought struck her, in the darkness. Maybe she was starting to realise that you could let people in, and that not everyone was an enemy.

She shook her head, not quite believing what she was thinking.

She realised that she did actually want someone, someone who could accept her for the inward mess that she is.

And she had someone in mind.

A huge thank you to everyone who has read this story, and to everyone who has reviewed: thank you, it seriously makes my day, and it encourages me to write more when I know that there are people who actually care if I update or not.

I really do hope you're enjoying this story, as sensitive as the subject matter is and I am really trying to do it justice.

Thank you so much and don't forget to review!