I do apologise for the later update than usual, I was experiencing a slight case of writer's block. But I powered through, and somehow managed to churn out the next chapter (yay!). I sincerely hope the wait was worth it, again if you are reading and enjoying this: thank you, it means so much to me. Enjoy!

Edwina trudged home, dripping wet and exhausted to the point of collapse. Somehow, she made it all the way to the front door, and after a few moments of fumbling she extracted her house key and jammed it into the lock.

Leaving a trail of soaked clothes and shoes behind her she sunk into her shower bath, sitting up long enough only to turn on the taps. As the scalding water beat down on her she grasped for her IPod over the side of the bath and turned it up full blast. Lilium filled her ears, and with the combined effects of the song and the warm water she was soon lulled into a long over-due deep and dreamless sleep.

Edwina was rudely awakened about forty minutes later when the water became ice cold. Lilium was still playing, having been put on repeat, and when she reached out to switch it off she saw her fingers had become pruned and pale. Turning the taps off and pulling herself out of the tub she wrapped a towel around her and padded down the hall to her room.

After pulling on a pair of underwear and an oversized old sweater that hung lazily off one shoulder she went downstairs and made herself a tea. While the kettle whistled away she searched the cupboards until she found a block of her favourite fruit and nut chocolate.

Steaming mug in hand and chocolate tucked under her arm she made her way back upstairs to the spare bedroom where all her art supplies were kept. Placing her snack on an unopened box she set up a row of A4 canvases and dug out her charcoal. Tapping her chin with the box, she paused.

"Something's missing." She muttered, looking around. Here eyes landed on a battered stereo and speakers in the corner of the room. A triumphant smile lit up her features "Ah, hah!" Kneeling to rifle through her extensive C.D collection she eventually settled on Lana del Ray and put it in, slow dancing her way back over to the canvases, humming to Serial Killer: her favourite. Picking up the charcoal again she got to work, her tea in one hand and a row of chocolate hanging out of her mouth.

Two cups of tea and a quarter of the chocolate block later Edwina's creations were complete. Lined up neatly in front of her in black and white were the faces of Kevin, Nazz, Rolfe and Edd. Satisfied, she stacked them carefully and took them into yet another spare rom.

'This house is huge for just one person.' She mused, not ungratefully. Taking the 'industrial strength' double-sided tape she had brought from the art rom as well she set about placing the newest additions to her 'possible permanents' collection amongst the others. When that was done she stood back to admire her work.

It was a bittersweet room. Scattered across the walls were the faces of people she loved, people she hated, people she would never see again; there were even a couple of her favourite pets. One wall – the one through which she entered, so she would not be forced to see it immediately – was dedicated wholly to her parents. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked over the many images of her mother and father, one of each for every year since she was 5, all varying in skill and expression. Despite the accident's occurrence being almost 2 years past the deep emotional scarring of the simultaneous deaths of her beloved parents had yet to be completely healed. Growing up an over-all friendless and introverted child her witty, sarcastic mother and soft-spoken father had been her best friends. It was they who offered support and the comfort of three-way hugs (no matter how stifling) when she began coming home with bruises and scrapes that – no matter what her excuses – were obviously not accidental or self-inflicted; who skipped out on invitations to all sorts of places in favour of taking her out for ice-cream and encouraged her ceaselessly to go after what she wanted, if it made her happy.

A strangled sob wrenched itself from her throat. Stuffing her knuckle into her mouth she bit down, hard, and fled the room.

Her hands shook as she pulled on a pair of shorts, sparing not a thought for the scars on her legs. Not even bothering to put on shoes she sprinted from the house. Tears were running freely by then, but Edwina was beyond caring. All she wanted in that moment was for the images and noises to stop: the screeching of bus tires and screams of the passengers, her parents being thrown sideways like the rest of them. Her father's skull shattering against the window –

"ARGH!" Edwina's scream, very much in the present, pierced the silence of the cul-de-sac like an arrow through flesh. Collapsing on the ground she finally allowed herself to succumb to her sobbing, so far gone that she forgot she was still in the middle of the footpath.

Meanwhile, back at school, Edd was rapidly growing bored of P.E.

After Edwina had unexpectedly left halfway through her first day he had lingered a little while by the pool, revelling in his luck of finding such an interesting specimen. There was no denying that she intrigued him, especially after that stunt she had pulled with Eddy. If he had to be completely honest with himself – and he did try to be – he wanted to get to know her better; find out what made her tick, what made her malfunction. She was a test subject waiting to be studied and Edd was not one to postpone a project. He would – with or without her permission – know her intimately (let's keep our thoughts clean here, people), although he could not deny that she was good looking. In a messy, starving artist kind of way.

'It's settled then;' Dodging a ball and swiftly kicking it away Edd smiled ever-so-slightly 'by the end of this semester I will know miss Edwina Patelli better than she knows herself: inside and out, top to bottom.' His smile grew as the bell rang to signal the end of the hour.

'The only question now is: how to begin?'