Gerry sighed as he lent back on the sofa, flicking the TV onto a random channel. He searched the channels in an attempt to find something decent to watch - settling on an old cowboy movie which had not long started. He had gone round to visit Gerry junior as soon as he'd finished work; finally fulfilling his promise to have dinner with him. It had been a nice distraction from what was going on.

He reached for his beer; condensation rolling down the neck of the bottle. The film was blaring in the background, but he was unable to concentrate on it. His mind flashed back to Sandra, and the conversation they had had in her office. His heart rate began to rise as he thought about what she had said. How could he have missed it? How long had Sandra been feeling suicidal? Even though he had found out about her self-injurious behaviour, he would never have imagined her having suicidal tendencies. The sound of bullets on the film tore his attention away from his thoughts. He switched the TV off in frustration; not allowing the sound effects to put ideas in his head. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was now past 11pm. He took a sip from the bottle in his hand but was disturbed by a slow, quiet knock on the front door.

Sandra threw herself down onto the sofa and sighed. Gerry was planning on going to his grandsons for dinner and Brian and Steve had to get back to their houses for dinner. Evenings like these made her feel more alone than ever. Reaching over to the coffee table in the middle of the room, she took a hold of her large glass of wine and quickly finished it. She felt so stupid seeing as Gerry hadn't given her a proper reaction back in the office. He probably didn't want anything to do with her now he knew almost the full truth. She smiled at the silence echoing her surroundings; not having bothered to switch on the TV when she had got home. Not that she got much silence with the voices swimming around in her head. They told her how careless she had been and how she deserved this torture. Sighing, she pulled herself to her feet and wandered over to the fridge. She pulled the opened bottle of wine from it and proceeded to fill her glass with the last drops of it. It was a mistake to open the red wine, the scarlet colour triggering those particular thought patterns she desperately wanted to get rid of. She took her glass in her hand and went up to her bedroom. It was only 9pm so she still had plenty of time to try and relax that evening.

She began to undress herself, stopping to examine her reflection in the mirror. How had she let herself fall so far? She noted the way her underwear was only just clinging to her body - maybe she had lost some weight. She hadn't really noticed any change in her eating habits; just that she was losing her appetite more and more every day. Her roots were showing more than she liked seeing as she had been lacking the motivation to cover the greys. Each piece of clothing she had removed had revealed more scars than she remembered she had. The lines visible were in hues of pinks, reds and purples, as well as whites and silvers. Each one was a way to remember how she didn't deserve any help, how she had let everyone down. Sighing, she removed the remaining clothes hugging her body and stepped into the shower.

Two hours later, she rose to her feet and stepped out of the shower. It wasn't until she wrapped the fluffy white towel around her body that she noticed the harsh red lines along both of her forearms. She sighed, knowing she had, had yet another blank and had no recollection of doing this to herself. There weren't many times where she didn't know what she had done, but those times were the toughest. Her mind wandered back to when Gerry had discovered her secret. He had cared for her, and looked after her wounds, occupying her mind with something other than the voices which were screaming at her. Somehow, she found the energy to throw on some comfy, light grey jogging bottoms; a turquoise short sleeved top and a navy zip up hoodie. She made her way over to the bed and pulled the soft knitted blanket around her body in an attempt to ground herself. She reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her book and opened it to her bookmarked page; pulling her legs up to her chest. She sighed and allowed her eyes to scan the first few lines of her current chapter. The words began to jumble, no longer making any sense. Any attempts at reading single words at a time ended in disappointment as the letters rearranged themselves time after time. After re-reading the same page 5 times, she replaced the bookmark and set the book down beside her. Her fingers began to scratch away at her arms underneath the sleeves of the hoodie, re-releasing the streams of blood she had opened just a few minutes before. Panic overcame her as she realised that the cuts weren't as shallow as she was used to. The blood continued to run down towards her fingertips, with every effort at stopping it failing. This hadn't happened before and she didn't know what to do. She couldn't go to the hospital in fear of seeing someone she knew, like Paula - Gerry's daughter. Choking back a sob, she knew that there was only one person she was prepared to go to for help. She stood up and hastily wrapped some bandages loosely around herself before leaving the house.

As the car came to a stop in front of his house, panic crept in once again. Was this really a good idea? It was too late to question now, she was in need of help even though it pained her to admit it. She noticed the living room light was still on and she silently thanked him for still being up. She gripped onto everything she could as she made her way to the front door. She was beginning to feel lightheaded, probably from the combination of alcohol and blood loss. As she stumbled up the last step, she took a deep breath and rapped the front door slowly with her knuckles.

A light lit up the hallway, showing the silhouette of her best friend getting closer to the door. As he opened the door, he stood in shock; not knowing how to approach the situation. Why was she standing on his doorstep so late at night?

"Sandra?"

Confusion filled his voice, mixed with concern. Her eyes were full of panic and worry, something he rarely saw from her.

"Gerry…"

Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper and full of worry; mirroring the emotion shown in her eyes. He quickly ushered her through the front door and led her to the living room. As he went to fetch her a glass of water, Sandra allowed herself to sit on the sofa; bracing herself for what she was about to do. She unzipped her hoodie, preparing herself for the conversation. She could hear the trickle of the water as it filled up the glass followed by his footsteps as he returned to where she was sitting.

"Sandra, are you okay?"

She allowed herself to be honest with him. She knew she had to be honest, Gerry would find out the truth if she had lied to him. This was a huge step for her. Gerry had only witnessed her vulnerable side a handful of times, but this was the first one where she had initiated the conversation. She allowed herself to take a deep breath, trying to chase away the pangs of pain echoing in her heart. She shook her head as she slowly slipped her arms out of the hoodie; showing them to him. A tear rolled down her cheek as she turned her gaze to the soft grey carpet covering the floor.

Gerry was glad he had sat down before she had spoken. He wanted to tell her how immensely proud of her he was for coming and talking to him. As she held her arms out in front of him, he noticed the bloodstained bandages covering them. His eyes met hers once again, silently asking for her approval to remove the bandages. He took hold of her shaking hand and slowly removed the first bandage. She returned her gaze to the carpet, but not before he noticed the tear sliding down her face.

"Was this tonight?"

He allowed his fingers to run over her skin, avoiding any of the new wounds. He kept a strong hold of her hand, tightening the grip every time she subconsciously pulled her arm back towards her. She gave him a small nod before being led to the kitchen. Gerry pulled a first aid kit out from one of the kitchen cupboards; thankful that he had some butterfly strips to hand. It didn't take long before both of her arms were properly cleaned and dressed again.

"Sandra.."

Gerry looked up expecting her to still be standing in front of him. He grabbed the handle of the coffee he had just poured and went back into the living room, hoping she was there. She had put her hoodie back on and was sitting with her legs to her right. He noticed her flinch in discomfort as she pulled her sleeve over her hands, catching the bandages underneath. She picked up the remote and began searching through the channels for something to have on in the background. He smiled at how despite what was going on in her personal life, there were small moments where the old Sandra shone through. She knew Gerry would want some answers and she was trying to build up the courage to give them to him. He allowed a few seconds to take her appearance in; he hadn't really had a chance to so far. Her hair was damp, she seemingly hadn't dried it properly after her shower. Her hoodie no longer fitted her properly, and was now slightly oversized. Another thing he had failed to notice; that she had lost weight. He knew Sandra was never perfect at taking care of herself, but she had always been able to maintain her figure and keep herself healthy.

He sat down on the sofa next to her, hoping he wasn't too close for it to be uncomfortable for her. He didn't know how to approach the situation. This was all brand new for him. He stretched forward, placing the mug of coffee down on the coaster in front of Sandra. As he leant back against the sofa, Sandra had inched over to sit next to him, allowing her legs to rest to her left. She laid her head on his shoulder, sighing. She reached forward for her coffee, leaning back to find Gerry's arm behind her. She smiled to herself and handed her mug to him; sweetly batting her eyelashes with a glint of cheekiness in her eye. Gerry let out a soft chuckle, enjoying the tiny moments of the Sandra he knew shining through. He reached forward and put the now empty mug on the coaster. As he sat back, Sandra had slipped her arm behind him, allowing her to be comfier as she laid her head on his shoulder again. He was cautious leaning back, not wanting to put too much pressure on her arm. She had decided to put a comedy channel on, showing old reruns of comedy shows neither of them had seen before. He rested his free hand on his stomach, attempting to focus his attention on the TV show. He felt her take his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you Gerry. I was really scared."

She whispered against his chest. He gave her shoulders a soft squeeze and slouched down a little, allowing her to get comfier. He had begun to get worried about her, she had never shown this much vulnerability before; not even when the truth about her father had surfaced.

"What happened?"

He allowed her to take her time; knowing he wasn't going to get any answers if he kept pushing her. He gently ran his thumb over hers, hoping to give her some courage to speak up.

"I don't know."

She pulled her arm from behind him, released his hand from hers and began to play with the fraying sleeves of her hoodie. Her eyes darted to the outdated comedy playing on the screen. Her vision began to blur as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She took a deep breath, noticing Gerry's arm was still wrapped around her, as if he was scared to let her go.

"I got in the shower. Two hours later, this happened. I panicked and didn't know who else to turn to."

He allowed her to speak, not wanting to disrupt her in fear of her closing off her emotions again.

"Do you always hurt yourself in these blanks?"

She shook her head against his chest and allowed her fingers to trace circles around the little white buttons keeping Gerry's shirt fastened together. She knew she had to do this; no matter how terrified she was.

"This is the first time it's happened when I was completely out of it."

He allowed his free arm to reach around her, enclosing her in a hug. The instant she was encircled, all logical thinking disappeared and she allowed the tears to fall. Once the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an uninterrupted stream. It pained him to see her like this. The only thing he was able to do was to hold her and let the flood of tears flow through his shirt and onto his shoulder. He heard her silently screaming with every breath attempting to hold onto her pride. He began to softly run his hand up and down her arm, trying to calm the war within her mind.

She allowed her thoughts to take over; knowing that no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay, they would find a way to shine through and drag her away from reality. She had actually done it. She had initiated the conversation, but the voices were niggling away at her, making her feel worse than she was before. She had just jumped a huge hurdle and yet she felt like she was at the beginning of the race again. Why didn't she feel proud of herself? All she felt was disappointment and shame. Her heart began to thud and a loud pounding echoed through her ears. A sudden feeling of suffocation washed over her as her chest began to tighten. A loud ringing emerged from the darkest corners of her mind, fighting with the voices for priority. She couldn't do it anymore. She rose from the sofa, shaking. What had she done? Why had she come to Gerry in the first place? Dread filled her mind, linked hand in hand with panic. She had to find a way to silence the voices. She stumbled over the doorway, not knowing where she was heading. Taking a deep breath, she managed to calm herself for just about long enough to feel the slight pull on her hand. It was that moment she realised that it wasn't her controlling where she was going, it was Gerry.

Gerry sat her down on the edge of his bed and placed the glass of water down on the bedside table. It wasn't until he let go of her hand and his fingers felt the cool breeze blowing in through the open window, that he realised how hot and moist hers had gotten. Tiny beads of sweat had formed on her forehead as she gasped for air, struggling to breathe properly. He slipped out of the room, bringing back a damp flannel and setting it down against her forehead. In an attempt to cool herself down, she had removed her hoodie; no longer caring about revealing her arms to him. He knew better than to touch her too much during a panic attack. He had only ever witnessed Sandra suffer a panic attack once, and that was back when the truth about her father was brought to light. Last time, cooling her down and giving her hand gentle squeezes of reassurance pulled her back to reality, and he hoped it would be enough this time.

As her breaths slowly regulated themselves again, she clenched her eyes shut. She pulled her hand from Gerry's and laid her head in her hands. Once he was satisfied she had fully exited the attack, he hesitantly began to rub her back in soft circles. This was much worse than the previous one he had witnessed and it scared him. He could tell it had worn her out as she let him comfort her. Her usual stern, independent personality had disappeared and was replaced by a vulnerable, quiet one.

As she took a sip of the water he offered her, she whispered, "You didn't need to see this. It's my fault."

He could tell there was more she wanted to say but keeping up the facade was exhausting her. The attacks drained her drastically, often leaving her no other option but to fall asleep in an attempt to gain back some energy; and this time was no exception. He pulled back the covers to his bed, encouraging her climb in and get the test she needed. She didn't have the energy to protest, so willingly allowed Gerry to pull the duvet back over her.

As he reached the doorway, he spun around saying, "It's not your fault Sandra."

He wasn't sure if she could hear him or not, but he hoped she did. He grabbed a blanket and some clothes from the table next to the door before partially shutting the door and heading to bed himself.

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