I was awoken by the sound of an alarming ringing of my mobile.

The sudden shock that I wasn't in my own house made my head seem all translucent until I remembered what had happened this morning and let off a sigh of stress.

I picked up my phone as the ringing silenced itself: 5 messages and 3 missed calls.

I had one message from Becca, 3 from mum and 1 from Mickey?

The calls were all mum.

I didn't want to call her back, I still feel as though I couldn't trust her so I bluntly texted her:

"At Berties, staying for a while, don't call"

Wait no, I thought. I erased 'Berties' – "At a friend's, staying for a while, don't call" then sent it.

I didn't want her thinking me and Bertie were on a thing now, she might get worried we're doing stuff. She's far from the truth.

Then checked the message from Mickey: "Contact your mother, you're getting her worried, don't mess things up more than you already have." Sent 2:09pm

What? Why has Mickey texted me this after the argument? My mum can't have seriously forgiven him? After all he's done, she's forgiven him?

And why is he saying I've messed things up? For fu**s-sake!

I f**king hate him.

I fell back into the sofa, closing my eyes gently, trying to erase my thoughts of Mickey and mum and calm my anger.

I just wish I could forget it all.

….

I opened my eyes again about 10 minutes later and stare at the clock – 3:39pm

Gosh, I've been at Berties for ages, since 10, but thinking about it, where is Bertie? All I remember is falling asleep on his lap in tears; he must've thought I was going crazy.

I swing the living room door ajast and peer out into a deserted hallway then make my way up stairs into Berties attic room.

I push open his door in surprise that he's not there.

This is the first time I had seen his room in full, a little double bed to my left by a slanting ceiling opposite to a desk with an imac and piles of papers and figurines. The wall next to it covered in shelves of books and folders.

It's overall a mess, not like his personality, but it intrigues me.

I snoop around, through the garden of sheets and cutlery until I find a scruffy blue journal entitled "Dad" hidden behind walls of books.

I read through, admiring the pictures of a little long locked Bertie and a similar looking dad until it ends with a picture of some flowers and a date.

My heart falls; I feel the tears re-emerging in my beaten eyes.

Bertie's dad had died.

I quickly place the book back where I found it and wipe the escapee droplets from my face.

I can't handle any more drama, I think I just need to leave; I really should talk to mum.

None the less, hurdles just keep forcing themselves in front of me as a distressed Bertie perches behind me, teary as well.

The silent-ness of his entry was unknown so his presence scared me.

"wha-what are you doing Frankie?" He jutters.

"I, was looking for you, so came to your room"

There was a silence as Bertie glanced at the floor.

"Bertie, why didn't you tell me about your dad?" I apprehensively ask.

He then glances at me an uneasy look.

"You shouldn't be looking through my stuff Frankie"

"I'm sorry, I was just curious, I didn't realise" I reply.

"Yeah, you didn't realise" he says with anger.

"Maybe I should go" as I push past him and out the door, running down the stairs and into a cold, spiteful, December frost.

Tears then started to waterfall down my face, I couldn't contain them, and so I ran again. All the way home, just as this morning.

I stood by my front door unable to enter. Could this day possibly get any worse?

Maybe it could - before I could brace myself the door shook and Mickey stood there proud and obnoxious.

God I hated him

"You little twat, how dare you do this to your mother?" He growls.

I snarl at him, pushing him up to the wall with all my anger.

"Just fuck off Mickey, okay?"

"Don't you talk to me like that you little brute, now apologise" he fights back.

"Oh just shut-up and go back to your meagre council flat, no one wants you here" I snap.

"Little cow" he shouts.

"Hey don't talk to her like that!" My mother appears from the living room, looking just as tired and saddened than this morning.

"Oh don't you start now. You're just as bad as her" he retaliates.

"Oh just get out you repulsive man and if I see you round here again, I'll call the police I swear" she snaps back.

"You wouldn't. We all know you'll be back into my care in no time; you can't resist me Diana." And on that, he leaves.

I run into my mother's arms, careful not to hurt her frame with the impact. We both sob into each other until I part.

"Mum, why did you let him back into the house after what he did to you?"

"I didn't, he forced his way in, just after you left. He said he was sorry, wanted to talk, sort things out. But turns out he was trying to convince me to run away with him. But I never would, believe me Franks. You're my life, I wouldn't do it. So I told him that and he got really angry. He was about to leave until you came in, I don't know why he was standing up for me, but he was."

I just hugged her again. "I love you mum" I cry.

"I love you too sweetie, I really do" she whispered into my head as she stroked my hair soothingly.