TheBeautifulNerd: Thanks so much for your review, I've edited the last chapter so it makes easier reading. It's good to have someone to tell me how to improve

This chapter contains a scene that was in the show but I've changed it a bit to fit in with my storyline. Hope it's okay, I'm still struggling to make the words flow right., and it's a bit short. Sorry I haven't updated in a while. If there's anything I can do to improve, please tell me, suggestions are always welcome.

Thanks for reading, you guys are the best.

The day was over.

Lily placed both hands against the cool metal lockers and breathed out. She studied her crescent-shaped fingernails and clear, delicate skin, the colour of milky coffee. The backs of her hands were flawless, perfect, and you wouldn't guess, looking at them, that her forearms were riddled with scars.

She sighed, and pulled open her locker. It had been quite possibly her worst day ever at Holby. She felt as though she were a china figurine, and would fall apart at the slightest touch. Her throat was thick with repressed tears. Her head was a mess of thoughts and fears.

She knew she definitely hadn't been on top of her game today, and that Connie had picked up on that. She'd been snappy towards Alicia and absent-minded with her patients. She'd had a small panic attack in the toilets and still felt the aftershocks. Her hands were trembling and the knot in her chest was viciously taut again.

She still felt numb with shock. Her father – dead. Pressing her hands to the cool metal of the lockers, she tried to hold back the tears swimming in her eyes.

Alicia came in, annoyingly chipper. Lily, composing herself, grudgingly praised her.

'You did well today.'

While Alicia chattered back mindlessly, Lily went back to staring at her nails, trying to keep the hysteria down. Her stomach ached fiercely, and she winced. The temptation for a sugar fix was overwhelming. There was chocolate in the shop. There was money in her pocket.

You've been doing so well…

Gritting her teeth, she beat down the cravings. How could she even think of food when her father was dead and her mother grieving? She still felt pricklings of guilt whenever she thought about him, as well as the all-consuming wave of grief. Perhaps if she'd visited him just once…

You were a terrible daughter, she thought, digging her nails into her palms. Not as good as Cara. Not as good as…

She dug her nails in harder, and when she loosened her hands, she found bloody little crescents marked the tender skin. She noticed the room had gone quiet. Alicia must have left. Then a voice rang out from behind her.

'Right. Lily. You're not leaving today until you tell me what's wrong.'

Lily turned to face Mrs Beauchamp, choking back tears. At the sight of Lily's glistening eyes, Connie's face softened.

'Are you getting anxious again? You can take a few days off if you need it.' Her tone was almost motherly, as though she regretted her harsh greeting. Mrs Beauchamp was the only person at Holby who knew about her ongoing struggles with anxiety, although even she didn't know the full extent of it. She'd told Mrs Beauchamp after crashing her moped from exhaustion. It had been that day, a year ago, and she'd thrown herself into work in an attempt to forget about it.

It hadn't ended well.

Connie had been careful not to overwork her since, but that still didn't mean she was lenient. But Lily knew she could count on her to understand why she worked when she was troubled by something. They were similar in that way.

'No…well, a little.' Lily took a deep breath, and started again. 'Sorry, Mrs Beauchamp, I…haven't been myself today.'

Connie's face remained expectant, and Lily continued steadily. 'My…mother called me this morning and told me my father had died.'

Connie's eyes were wide with shock. She stuttered for a moment, unsure what to say. Lily nodded slowly, the knot in her chest tightening. It felt much more real now she'd said it aloud.

'Oh, Lily, I'm…so sorry.' She was sorry, Lily saw. Her eyes were filled with remorse. But she didn't deserve her pity. It was Lily's own fault. She'd neglected him.

'You shouldn't be here.' Connie could see Lily struggling to control her emotions. 'You can't work properly if you're grieving, especially if you've been feeling anxious again recently.'

Tears were now streaming down Lily's cheeks, sticky and salty. For a moment she felt a pinprick of embarrassment, as she'd always been an ugly crier. What must Mrs Beauchamp think of her?

But Connie moved uncertainly towards her, then enveloped her in a hug. She was warm and the silk of her shirt felt pleasantly cool against Lily's hot cheek. Slowly, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and they moved away from each other, a little awkward. Neither were good at physical contact.

'Please Lily. Take all the time you need.' Connie's eyes were gentle and compassionate, and Lily found herself nodding. 'Okay,' she whispered.

Connie smiled tentatively. 'Do you want a cup of tea? Or a hot chocolate? There are biscuits here if you want them.'

But even in her befuddled and miserable state, Lily knew that was a bad idea. She needed to exercise, an hour on the treadmills or a run in the park. That would make her feel better. Not a hot beverage full of fatty milk and sugar.

Even though her father was dead, she could still make him proud. She could make up for not being there for him while he was alive, by working harder and becoming the person he'd always wished she was. She could lose weight. She would focus on her weight.

Because in this off-kilter world, it felt like the only thing she could control.