A/N – Many thanks to Alessandra12 and xdiexromanticx for reviewing!

Chapter Five – Puppy Love

Urgh. Tuesdays. I hated the things. No, it was nothing to do with the prison-like sentence I currently found myself in. Tuesdays were therapy days. Let me rewind a bit.

Saturday 6th December 2008
Wertham Wolves Rugby Club Christmas Party

"Babe! Smile, it's a party! You're supposed to be happy!"

Julian just grunted at me. He'd been playing for Wertham Wolves for the entire two and a half years we'd been together, not to mention a few seasons before that too. He was their inside centre, number 12, built like a brick shithouse and the Wolves' star player. He'd scored more tries in the last two seasons than most guys on the team scored in their whole career. Because of him, the Wolves were a mere division behind the Premiership.

We were dressed to the nines; him in a sleek black tuxedo, me in a black minidress with clear chiffon sleeves and cold shoulders. Tonight was supposed to be about him; he was 2008's Player of the Year. But he couldn't even crack a smile. We'd been sitting around a table for four with his 13, Luke, and his girlfriend, Mercedes, for the last two hours. They'd hit the dancefloor a long time ago, though.

"This is getting ridiculous," I grumbled, pulling out my phone and tapping out a text.

You and gang out 2nite? Reckon I might be done here by 10.

What? Thought u and the boyf were at the Neanderthal Oscars.

Funny. We are and he's being a moody prick.

Always said he was a little bitch.

Not helpful. I'll let you know what's going on in a bit.

"Who're you texting?" It was the first time Julian had spoken to me in almost twenty minutes.

"And he speaks," I said coolly, stashing my phone into my handbag.

"Don't be smart with me, Blake," he snapped. "Who. Are. You. Texting?"

"Nathan. That okay?" I retorted. His scowl deepened. "Julian, what is wrong with you tonight?"

"You know I don't like you talking to him when you're with me."

"Jules. Baby, please don't start that again," I said with a sigh, placing my hand on his bicep with a small squeeze. "Nate and I will only ever be friends. I told you when we got together that he'd always be a part of my life."

"I don't like how he looks at you," he sulked.

"I don't like how half the girls in town look at you when you walk off the pitch all sweaty and glistening," I pointed out. "But I've learned to accept it."

"That's different," he tried to argue.

"It wasn't that different when you slept with Katie Prince last month," I muttered; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian's fist clench. I was pushing it with that one, I knew I was. Julian had vehemently denied having any involvement with Katie, but the video his teammate Roman had sent me from that night of my boyfriend up against a wall jack-hammering her into oblivion said otherwise. I mean, the video was of the back of his head, but I knew those dark blonde curls anywhere.

"I told you, I never touched that skanky slag," he spat.

"Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much," I said with a roll of the eyes.

"Okay, listen here, you ungrateful-" Julian had began to rise out of his seat; instinctively I flinched back, expecting some form of strike. None came. Thankfully, the Wolves' head coach – David Warren – had taken to the mic on the bandstand and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention; it is time to announce the winners of the 2008 Wertham Wolves End of Year Awards."

Just to help me breathe a deeper sigh of relief, Luke and Mercedes sat back down with us, forcing Julian and I to turn our chairs around the face the bandstand. We were sat for twenty minutes listening to the speeches of the winners; Forward of the Year, Back of the Year, Top Points Scorer of the Year, Try of the Year, Dick of the Year, as many rugby-related awards as you could think of. I clapped, cheered, laughed as much as I could, but deep down, my stomach was churning. That look in Julian's eye when he'd started to shout...I knew that look. He didn't let that look go. And now, though his hand was on my knee, there was nothing loving about it; it was possessive, his fingertips biting into my skin. My other leg was restless, jiggling up and down in its red high heel. God, I was scared. Two hours ago, I'd have given anything to leave here. Now I knew that leaving meant being alone with him, and that was when he terrified me the most.

"And now, the award everyone has been waiting for," David declared, and everyone in the room began a makeshift drumroll on the tabletops with their hands. "This young man, at the age of twenty-five, has turned Wertham Wolves into the town's biggest sporting success almost singlehandedly. Despite calls from Gloucester, London Irish and even Premiership table-toppers, the Leicester Tigers, his loyalty to his team and his town has never wavered. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to announce that the Wertham Wolves' 2008 Overall Player of the Year is...Julian Quinn!"

The room erupted. Whistles, cheers, cat-calls, stamping feet, the sounds of it all echoed off the walls as Julian sauntered his way through the throngs of his teammates, partners, coaches. He was patting shoulders and shaking hands the whole way up there, finally going up the few steps to the bandstand. Grinning ear to ear, he accepted the plaque David handed to him and turned to the mic. His speech oozed charisma; he'd always had the gift of the gab, always knew exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. It was one of the many reasons I'd agreed to go out with him when he asked. He was cracking jokes, subtly sucking up to the right people and thanking everyone in his family.

"And of course," his near-ten minute speech concluded. "I wouldn't even be making this speech if it hadn't been for the constant support of my darling, beautiful girlfriend, Blake." All eyes in the room turned to me, and I felt my face burn scarlet. "Baby, for almost three seasons you've pushed me to be the best guy on the field. You've been there for me after training, helped nurse me back after all those injuries last season, hell, you've sometimes been the only girl left on the bench if its been pissing it down on game day. I love you, and this-" He held up his plaque. "-this is your award too. So friends and family of the club, I ask you to raise a toast to my gorgeous girl, Miss Blake Harper!"

"To Blake!" Every voice in the clubhouse echoed my name as glasses of cheap champagne were raised up. I could barely force a smile; how was he so good at this? He could play the perfect boyfriend whenever he wanted...whenever we were around other people.

Behind closed doors, just me and him, there was no 'gorgeous girl,' no champagne, no awards. It was twisted wrists, bruises covered up by jeans and long sleeves, spiteful words that stuck to me like glue. A grazed knee here, a black eye there. How had it taken me till tonight to realise how wrong this was? Julian didn't love me, not like I thought I loved him. I was about as important as that plaque in his hands; I was a trophy girlfriend, something to show off, something that didn't talk back. I wasn't that girl anymore.

It happened in a blur.

I stumbled up from my seat, right in the middle of everyone still applauding Julian coming off stage. I saw him look at me but my vision was fuzzy as I seized my clutch bag from the table and fucking belted it out of the room and out of the clubhouse completely.

Meet me at mine in 15. I'm doing a runner.

Somehow I managed to type out a coherent text message to Nathan as I fled, my fingers flying over the keys. I had never been more grateful that I'd agreed to be the designated driver tonight. Sure, as I scrambled for my car keys, I realised I'd be leaving Luke and Mercy stranded here but to be honest, that was sort of the least of my concerns. I was just about to jam my key into the door to unlock it when a ping from my phone caught my attention.

What did that fucker do 2 u? U know what, never mind. I'll c u at yours in a bit.

Nathan could be useless at the best of times, but at moments like this, he was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I finally wrenched the door open and tossed both my phone and clutch bag into the passenger seat. But before I could actually get into the car myself…

"Going somewhere, bumblebee?" Julian's deep voice came from my left and his hand appeared from nowhere and slammed my door shut as I let out a scream. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Blake?"

"Get away from me, Julian," I demanded through gritted teeth. "I'm not doing this here."

"Doing what, Princess?" he taunted, but his voice was dangerously low. "Come back inside, we'll get you a little glass of something and you can calm the fuck down."

"Stay. Away. From. Me," I repeated. "I'm not going back in there just to listen to you spout more bullshit about how much you supposedly 'love me.'"

"I do love you," he insisted, trying to place his hand on my cheek but I flinched back.

"You're full of shit!" I screamed, past caring about the congregation of people who had gathered at the door of the clubhouse to watch this little soap opera unfold.

"Stop embarrassing me, you stupid bitch," he hissed.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't want to spoil your special night," I spat out sardonically, flinging my car door open for a second time. "I'm fuckin' out of here."

"You leave now and you're gonna regret it, Princess," Julian warned me, his eyes full of anger.

"I'm sure I'll live with it. We're done, Quinn," I retorted, and just to add insult to injury, I spat in his face before jumping into the driving seat of the Polo and nope-ing the fuck out of there.

Nathan was waiting at the door of my ground floor flat when I pulled up fifteen minutes later, tears streaming down my face. "What the fu- Blakey?" He ran up to me, and instead of his usual unbothered-by-anything expression, he looked panicked. "What the fuck did he do to you?!"

"N-nothing," I sniffed, unlocking the front door and going inside, kicking my shoes off and immediately going to the kitchenette to pour myself a VERY large neat Jack Daniels.

"Nothing my arse," Nathan said, following me inside and opening my fridge to help himself to a can of Coke. "I've known you fuckin' sixteen years and you've only ever cried because of that arsehole you call a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend anymore," I mumbled, chugging that JD so quickly it burned my oesophagus and made me cough. I dropped my head and braced my hands against the worktop, my hair falling down around my face. Don't cry...do not cry again...

"Shit," Nathan sighed, leaning against the worktop too. "I mean, not exactly gonna pretend I'm not happy you finally told that prick where to stick it, but..." His hand came up and rested on my shoulder. "You okay, Blakey?"

I shrugged, turning to face him. "I don't know. I don't care right now, either." I stood up straight and scrubbed a hand down my face, wiping the tears and makeup streaks from my cheeks. "We're going back out. Give me a few to get ready."

"You sure?" Nathan looked slightly startled. "Like, I'm all for drownin' your sorrows but you don't really look like you should be goin' anywhere near a club tonight."

"You're not my mum, so don't fucking act like it," I snapped at him, turning around and stalking over to where my bed and dresser were.

"You scare me sometimes," I heard him mutter, but he left me alone and plonked himself down on the sofa anyway. My crying finally completely subsided, I reached for a makeup wipe from the top of my dresser, moved to the mirror and scrubbed every last trace of what was left of my 'formal' makeup look. Face clear a minute later, I stripped off that stupid dress and opened my jeans drawer when there was a sudden loud thumping at my front door.

"Who the fuck is that, the Incredible fuckin' Hulk?" Nathan spluttered, leaping up from the sofa as I peeped my head around the half-wall, frowning at him.

"I don't kn-" I started to say when my front door suddenly flew open, revealing an absolutely furious Julian. I let out a scream of fear as he stormed across the flat, seized hold of me by the throat and slammed me up against the wall. Now only clad in my underwear, my bare back scraped against the painted brick. "GET OFF!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he bellowed, his hand tightening.

"Get the fuck off her, you 'roided-up fucknut!" Nathan yelled at him, trying to wrench Julian's hand off me, but all Julian did was laugh at him, lift his other hand and slam it into Nathan's chest, winding him as he fell to the floor with an almost comical 'Oof!' sound.

"J-Julian," I choked out, scrabbling my hand at his fingers. "P-please..."

"P-please! P-please!" he mimicked with a sick laugh. "Not such a tough bitch now, are you, bumblebee? Thought it was a good idea, didn't you? Embarrassing me in front of all those people at the club? Dumping me in public? On MY night?" His fingers tightened again as he said 'my.'

I gasped out for a breath, my vision slowly blurring as the oxygen was slowly cut off from my brain, but I barely sucked in anything. Nathan was still trying to gather his own breath on the floor from Julian's handoff; he couldn't help even if he tried.

Julian laughed again. "I told you you'd regret leaving me there tonight. I swear to God, Princess, if I don't kill you and your little fuckboy tonight, you'll fuckin' wish that I had."

"Police! My mate's ex has gone fuckin' psycho!" I suddenly heard Nathan yelp. Julian turned his head sharply, keeping me pinned to the wall and I managed to see out of the corner of my eye Nathan clutching my landline. He'd moved so silently neither of us had even noticed. Without breaking eye contact with Julian, he shouted my address at the operator followed by, "He's fuckin' chokin' her! Fuck it, send an ambulance too! He's mental!" He hung up the phone and spat out, "Your number's up, you abusive twat!"

"You fuckin-" Julian started to say, but taking the opportunity as he was distracted, I used the last of my strength to bring my knee up and nail him straight in the balls. He let out a howl like a deranged wolf and released his grip on my throat. Both of us fell to the ground, Julian clutching at his crown jewels and me trying to suck in as much oxygen as I could, choking and spluttering, unattractive globs of spit flying out of my mouth.

"C'mon Blake, we're getting outta here," Nathan grunted, slipping his hands under my arms and hauling me to my feet, looping one of my arm's over his shoulder and practically dragging me across the flat since I was still finding it difficult to stand, let alone walk or run. We didn't get very far.

"BITCH!" Julian screamed, grabbing hold of my bare ankle and tripping me over, my arm accidentally catching Nathan's knee and causing him to fall and knock his head on the floor.

"No! No, Julian, let me go!" I shrieked, struggling as he clambered on top of me to pin me down.

"You brought this on yourself, bumblebee," he declared almost manically.

It all happened so quickly. Julian had me pinned by the throat again, his sixteen stone frame of pure muscle also keeping me held down. His other arm raised, hand clenched in a fist. I opened my mouth to let out yet another scream, but it never came. Julian's fist came down and I screwed my eyes shut. What happened next was nothing but pain.

Julian's fist connected with my face and it felt like my entire head exploded with white hot agony. Oh my God, it was awful. I had never felt pain like this in my entire life. Blood filled my mouth and it felt like my teeth were misaligned. I wasn't stupid; I knew that fucking sociopath had broken my jaw.

I wanted to scream but I couldn't because I didn't know what more damage could be caused if I opened my mouth. I instead let out a closed mouth wail as Julian just sat above me, laughing bitterly. I began to silently cry, the suppressed sobs convulsing my body. I could even feel the blood in my mouth begin trickling from the corners of my lips.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Nathan suddenly roared, throwing himself at Julian and tackling him clean off me. The two of them began one hell of a fist-fight as I dragged myself away from them, cradling my swelling face in a hand, ignoring the stickiness of my own blood under my fingertips. All I could do was sob and sob, regretting ever getting involved with a psychopath like Julian Quinn, exactly like he said I would.

The police had arrived not long after the boys had started their fight, tearing them away from each other and slapping Julian in cuffs and taking him and Nathan to Wertham PD while I was taken away in an ambulance, the pain so bad I was slipping in and out of consciousness.

Unsurprisingly, an x-ray concluded that my jaw was indeed broken, so misaligned that I required a small surgery to sort it out and was fitted with a jaw wire to keep my mouth shut and allow the bone to reset. I was dosed up with a load of painkillers and was instructed to keep to a liquid diet until I was healed. It took six weeks to heal completely. I moved back in with my parents' for a little while just so I could even begin to function again. My Christmas dinner was blended up for me and eaten through a straw. I spent my first ever New Year's Eve sober at home, sobbing on the sofa.

Somewhere in those six weeks, Julian was found guilty of actual bodily harm and ordered to pay a £250 fine with a suspended three month prison sentence and a five game ban. The judge didn't want to impair the rugby team as they were a, quote unquote, asset and pride to the community. He was also ordered to stay at least fifty feet away from me for those three months. That was it. Three months suspended, a month without rugby and a pathetically small restraining order for breaking my face.

Myself, on the other hand...I was ruined. I became scared of crowds, shook at loud noises and barely left the house. I didn't speak. I couldn't sleep. By the time my wire was removed, I had lost well over a stone and a half, dropping from just over ten stone to barely clearing eight. I was sickly white, gaunt, dead hair hanging limply, ribs and collarbones sticking out all over the gaff. I looked like some kind of fucking demon child.

I was hopeless. I was lost. There was no point anymore. I hadn't seen any of my friends in forever, fuck, even Nathan only dropped in once or twice a week. I was holding them all back, I knew I was. Including Mum and Dad. They had Ella and Alfie to look after, they didn't need me hanging around still when I could have gone back to my flat weeks ago. I was a burden on everyone. It would be easier if I was just...gone.

Of course, it didn't quite work out that way. Dad came home from work early and found me bleeding out on the bathroom floor, one of his razor blades limply hanging from my fingertips. For the second time in as many months I found myself strapped up in the back of an ambulance zooming to Wertham General.

After I was stitched up and monitored for the night, I ended up getting sectioned under the Mental Health Act of 1983. It was for my own good, and I didn't put up a fight. I needed help, I knew that.

After that came the many talks with therapists and psychiatrists, then the diagnoses. Depression. Anxiety. PTSD. A nice little cocktail of mental issues that I'm still dealing with today. I was put on medication to help cope, and during my two week stay at the hospital I was able to talk through everything that was causing my head to be so darkly clouded.

I've put weight back on to look a lot healthier. I respond better to crowds and loud noises, I sleep through the nights most days. I'm pretty much back to the same gobby, sparky, bitchy gal I was before Julian tore apart my psyche. But I'm still plagued by those thoughts sometimes, I'm still on the same medication I was when I left hospital. As a result, I'm required to attend hour-long therapy sessions every Tuesday. It was only going to be for three months but got extended by the courts to the end of my community service as they thought it would help with my supposed temper. A pile of bullshit, I thought, but I was hardly gonna argue. I used to go to the hospital for my chats, but now my therapist – Nancy, the same woman I'd been with all year – had to come to the shithole community centre.

"Come on, Blake. We're wasting time, sweetheart. Talk to me. How are you feeling today?" Nancy asked me today, half an hour into our near-silent session, away from prying ears in the safety of the probation office.

Scared. Jealous. Confused. "Fine." I was in a particularly narky mood today, lounging back and giving her one word answers. Between the note in Curtis' locker and struggling to comprehend that outburst of green-eyed monster during our OAPsitting, my head was fried and I really could not be bothered with this.

"Have you had any contact with your family since our meeting last week?"

"Yeah."

"Have you experienced any of your dark moods at all?"

"Kind of."

Nancy sighed. "Blake, come on, you know better than this. I'm going to need more than monosyllabic answers if I'm going to properly assess you."

I mimicked her sigh. "Nancy, come on, you know me better than this. If I had something to talk about, I'd talk about it. Cut me a little slack."

"Let's not play this game, Blake," she said, peering at me over her reading glasses. "I think you forget how well I've gotten to know you over this year. I know when something is on your mind. Let it out. This is a safe space."

I huffed out a second sigh. "I don't know what you want me to say. Genuinely, in the grand scheme of things, I feel fine. I had what could be described as a...minor existential crisis last week but I talked it through with Nathan and he calmed me down."

"This is a good start, Blake, well done!" Nancy encouraged, scribbling notes down in her notebook. "I know that given the circumstances, nothing about community service could be considered 'good' but if we're looking on the bright side, I'm glad you're going through this with Nathan. He's been a good friend to you throughout your recent turmoils."

I nodded. "Wouldn't be here without him or my Dad, that's for sure."

"I'm glad you've brought up your dad. You mentioned you've spoken to your family in the last week, tell me about that."

I smiled; talking about my family always cheered me up nicely. "I went round for lunch last Saturday. Ella's A1 Drama performance is next week and she wanted to run lines with me so I ended up being there until like gone seven. Mum made her famous Quiche Lorraine and coleslaw, it was great. It was like all the other shit of the last week didn't matter."

Nancy frowned. "You haven't mentioned anything 'shit' recently, Blake. What do you mean?"

Ohh fuck. Foot-In-Mouth Harper does it again. "Er...I...Um...I," I stuttered, scrambling my brain for an excuse. "I-I just mean in general! Like it's not exactly fun being stuck in this hell-hole every fucking day, you know?"

"I can only begin to imagine," she replied. "Well now you're in a slightly better mood, today I thought we could talk about..."

The rest of the session went well, I chilled out a bit and allowed Nancy to do her job. I wasn't happy about it but I didn't need to take it out on the poor woman, this was what she was paid to do. Saying goodbye and being reminded that if I had any issues before next week's session to call her, I vacated the probation office and was immediately greeted by the sight of Nathan brandishing his mobile at anyone who would pay attention and frantically gesturing at the screen. Oh Jesus, now what?!

"Blake! Hey! HEY!" he called over the second he clocked that I was free. "Blakey! C'mere!"

"Nathan, it's barely even ten AM," I groaned as he sprinted over. "Whatever mentalness this is, can't it wait?"

"No it can fucking not," he retorted. "Jeremy, that nudist paedophile freak, he was out again last night!" He jabbed his phone at my face, screen displaying a barely discernable photo taken in night-vision.

"Okay, first of all, at no point has there ever been a suggestion that Jezza is a kiddy-fiddler," I reminded him, squinting at the phone. "Second of all...what exactly am I supposed to be looking at here, Nate?"

He sighed. "Cock, anus, ball sack!" He pointed each of them out.

"What the fuck is that?" I exclaimed, pointing to one part of the photo.

"That's anus! Fuckin' hell, don't you people get that it's from a low angle?!"

"Where did you get this? Where were you last night?" I said quizzically, looking at him.

"Er, nowhere," he said quickly, before hurrying over to Simon. "Look! Cock, anus, ball sack?! Yeah?"

Simon grinned sheepishly. "What's that?"

"That's cock!" Nathan looked around at us all. "Look, this guy is livin' with my mum, we've gotta do somethin'!"

"Like what?" said Kelly, unstacking a few chairs.

"Can you get me a gun?" asked Nathan, totally seriously.

"I ain't gettin' ya a gun," she said quiet simply.

"Come on, you know someone right?" he persisted. "Just a little one. Nothin' too leery."

"There's no way I'm gettin' a dick'ead, like you, a gun!" she said with an air of finality.

"Nathan, you can't even fire a BB gun without screaming, how in the fuck do you expect to be able to use a pistol or some shit?" I demanded.

"Unimportant," he retorted flippantly.

"You can get a gun off the internet," interjected Simon, who was filming us again.

"Right, what if we go around there tonight," said Nathan. "And we'll talk to him, we'll be mature, and polite, yeah? And then we'll just tell him to fuck off."

"What if he says no?" said Kelly.

"Yeah, he might be a 'lil bitch but I doubt he'll take too kindly to you just turning up and telling him to fuck off," I said, folding my arms.

"I dunno, we'll improvise," Nathan said with a dismissive wave of his hand before throwing out his arms. "So who's with me?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as Simon, Kelly, Alisha, Curtis and I all looked at each other.

"Oh, it's like that is it?" Nathan sounded offended. "So much for bein' united by a horrific, life-changin', shared experience." We all looked at him blankly. "You know. Last week? The situation?" More blank looks. "We killed our probation worker?!" he practically shouted.

"Shut up!" I hissed, followed by "Prick!" from Curtis and "You're such a dick'ead!" from Kelly.

"That counts for nothing?" concluded Nathan, apparently not troubled by the fact he'd nearly sold us out to anyone who could have been listening. He turned to me, eyes wide and pleading. "Blakey? Come on, it's always been you and me, right? Sherlock and Watson and all that bullshit? Could really do with my Sherlock now."

I sighed. Bloody guilt-tripping knobhead. "Goddamn it. Yeah, alright, I'll come with you."

"I'll come as well," Simon suddenly offered. "You know, if you want someone to go with you. I'll come."

Nathan looked at him scornfully. "I'm not being funny, but me and you-" he gestured between the two of them. "Buddying up? Kickin' ass? I'm just not feelin' it, but hey. Lovely thought. Cheers. Nope, me and Blakey here -" he threw his arm around my shoulders. "- have it all under control."

I smiled sympathetically at Simon to show him I was sorry for Nathan being such a tit to him before shrugging Nathan's arm from around me and helping Kelly set out the chairs. The door slammed, and I turned in time to see Simon disappear into the locker room. So it was going to be another one of those days, was it?

The rest of the day seemed to just drag on and on, but eventually it was finally time to go home. Kelly, Alisha and I headed to the locker room to get changed. Nathan and Curtis had already sorted themselves out with Nathan now waiting outside the locker room for me and him to go to see good ol' Jezza. As for Simon...no one had seen him since Nathan had pissed him off.

"I'm probably gonna end up getting called up by the police again," said Alisha as we all opened our lockers. "For breaking my curfew." Urrrgggh, whyyyy did she think any of us gave a fuck about her 'ooh look at me, I'm such a bad girl' bullshit persona?

"Why?" said Kelly. Why. Why did she have to bite? Now I'd have to listen to yet another monologue about Alisha's SUPER COOL nightlife.

"I went out last night," said Alisha, unzipping her jumpsuit.

"'Who with?"

KELLY. STOP ASKING QUESTIONS! I thought at her, and she frowned at me for a second.

"Some mates."

"Who were they?" Kel pressed on. Why did I even bother.

"Just some mates," replied Alisha, slightly frostier than needed. "You don't know 'em."

Kelly stripped off her own jumpsuit and bent over to get something out of her locker. Alisha and I both noticed the bow tattoo at the base of her spine at the same time.

"Did that hurt when you got it done?" Alisha asked her.

"Yeah, it hurt like a bastard," she answered, twisting her head round to look at it.

"Really?" My eyebrows shot so far up my head they practically disappeared into my hairline. I held out both my wrists, left wrist decorated with the bird sitting on my scar like a branch, right wrist sporting a howling Indian wolf made of swirling lines. "I barely felt these and the wrist is supposed to be the most painful place to get tatted."

Kelly shrugged. "I only got it done 'cause me fiancé wanted it."

"Are you engaged?" Alisha and I questioned simultaneously, as surprised as each other.

"I was. Not any more," she replied, tugging a purple polo shirt over her head.

"Why? What happened?" I asked, pulling on my standard pair of ripped black skinnies and stepping back into my navy Converse.

"I could hear what he was thinkin', yeah?" said Kelly. "And he weren't exactly bein' romantic."

"That is beyond shit," I said benevolently, pulling my yellow bra strap back onto my shoulder as it had been slipping down.

"S'alright," Kelly shrugged. "He was a bit of a dick, anyway." Guess we've got some common ground on shit exes, I thought, and Kelly gave me a small smile before she turned to look at Alisha. "Have you been with anyone since you could do your thing?"

"No, not full on," she answered nonchalantly, yanking a pink leopard-print dress up her torso. Definitely not a walk of shame look at all. "I tried it out with a couple of guys, just for a second. They were proper horny. One was quite fit, actually," she added.

"Should have gone for it," I said in a falsely bright, very sarcastic tone, tugging a black Bring Me The Horizon tee over my head and spraying on some Impulse Tease. Cue classic Alisha glare.

"Have ya shagged anyone?" Kelly asked her.

"What d'you think?" Alisha sighed, adjusting her dress. Then, out of nowhere, I got the weirdest feeling. You know when every hair on your body stands on end and you have the urge to get really defensive? It was like that. I was sure I was being watched by something that shouldn't be there. I'd even convinced myself I felt a breath against my shoulder.

"Urgh," I shivered, giving a small, involuntary shake.

"What's up with you?" Alisha frowned.

I turned around to where it felt like the breath had come from, but there was nothing. Nobody there. "Nothing. I just had a twitchy moment. That's all."

"Right," she said in a tone that suggested the second word of that sentence was 'freak,' closing her locker. "Come on, let's go." Kelly and I both swung our lockers shut and followed her out.

"Christ, how long does it take for girls to change?" whined Nathan the second I stepped out the door.

"Do not start with me, Nathan," I warned him, holding up my hand. "Can we just get this over with? And no!" I snapped as he opened his mouth again. "We're not stopping to get a gun!"

He closed his mouth again...then opened it again two seconds later. "Fine. Come on then, Blakey gal. Let's fuck shit up!"

Of course I ended up driving. The Polo may as well have been the Batmobile in Nathan's eyes. It was like he didn't realise that bright blue did not blend into the suburban houses of where he grew up. There were two cars parked up in the drive so I pulled up the other side of the road and a house length back to keep hidden.

"Right, slight problem," Nathan awkwardly said as we approached the house, whirling round to face me. "I still don't actually have a key."

I heavily facepalmed. "Shit, I completely forgot, and it's not like my botched spare will work in the new lock. Fuck! This was your idea, so what do you suggest?! Breaking in through one of the windows?"

Nathan's face lit up. "That's a pretty damn good idea, Blakey! Who knew that crazy 'lil brain of yours could work so well?" Before I even had a chance to tell him I was joking, he started creeping along the side of the house, crouching under the windows and keeping himself pressed up against the bricks.

I crawled up beside him as he peered through the kitchen window, which was open slightly. "This is fucking ridiculous," I grumbled. "What are we, fucking MI High rejects?"

"Will you shut up?" Nathan hissed, easing the window open wide enough for us to climb through. "We need to be stealthy. We need to be fuckin' ninjas!"

"Oh yeah, good idea asking me to come along then! I'm like, the clumsiest person ever!" I exclaimed through my teeth.

"Be quiet! Jesus!" he shushed, putting his finger over my lips. He motioned for me to go. "Ladies first."

"Prick," I muttered, hoisting myself through the window. There were some dishes on the draining board, but luckily I saw them before kicking them over. I hopped down from the worktop and waved Nathan in. I could hear some weirdo tinkly pop music playing, and a whirring noise.

Nathan put his hand on the windowsill and heaved. He pulled himself in halfway, then held his arms out to me. "A little help, Blakey?"

"Oh, fucking hell," I mumbled, taking hold of his wrists and pulling him so that he was on the draining board. His elbow jerked out and sent one of the plates tumbling to the ground, breaking with a smash. "Shit, Nathan! Look out!"

"I'm tryin'!" he hissed. However, he evidently wasn't trying hard enough as he flailed around, sending another two plates to their doom and falling to the floor himself.

In the midst of this complete bloody chaos, Jeremy had appeared through one of the doors to the kitchen, dressed in cycling shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. His face was marred with a frown. "Nathan?"

Nathan scrambled to his feet. "That's right," he said, trying to sound intimidating...and failing. Miserably. "Your number's up, you psycho nudist freak!"

"Seriously?" I said, facepalming for a second time. "All the insults you could have used in this Godforsaken world, and you go for that? Good God."

Jeremy squinted at me. "Blake? Good to see you, sweetheart."

"Um...yeah. Sure. How ya doing, Jez?" I said awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck.

"Okay, great, we all know each other, everyone's great! But you! I've got you now!" Nathan snapped, brandishing his mobile at Jeremy. "See anything you recognise?"

Jeremy cocked his head slightly to the side, trying to comprehend the picture of his own backside. "What am I looking at?"

"Cock, anus, ball sack?" Nathan said frustratedly, pointing to each part of the picture.

"Is it?"

"It's from a low angle," I said helpfully.

"It's you!" said Nathan, ignoring my comment. "Last night! George Michael gets away with this shit but he used to be in WHAM!. Who're you?"

"George Michael? You've gone for that? Really? Oh my God," I muttered.

Nathan glared at me. "Will you stop with the interruptin'?" he said, incensed, before turning back to Jeremy. "So?"

"I don't remember what happened," Jeremy admitted.

"Oh, how very convenient," Nathan said derisively, holding up the phone. "This happened! I show this to my mum, you're history. So just-" he picked up a radio that was playing the weirdo tinkly pop music. "-take your crappy shit, and go." He dropped the radio. It hit the tiled flooring with a crack and split down the side, the music puttering out and the battery falling out.

"That's your mum's," Jeremy informed him, and I had to seriously bite my tongue to stop myself bursting out laughing. This was getting so ridiculous I was actually quite glad I'd made the effort to tag along.

Well then I'll buy her a new one, because that's what sons do for their mums!" Nathan said, undeterred. "Look, don't make this any harder on her, just go!"

"No, you g-go," Jeremy stuttered. "Your mum doesn't even want you here."

"You prick!" Nathan clenched his fist and punched Jeremy full in the face.

"Nathan, no!" I cried, grabbing his hand in both of mine. His skin was so hot, I'd only ever seen him this angry one other time...the night that broke me. The sound of the ruckus could probably be heard at the other end of the bloody street, so it really was no surprise that Louise suddenly appeared in the kitchen as well, looking completely aghast.

"Nathan!" she gasped. "What are you doing?!"

"You made me do this!" Nathan insisted, jerking his hand from mine and pointing at Jeremy. "You wouldn't listen! That psycho was out there again last night," he added to his mum. "Tell her, you sick bastard!"

"He already told me!" she shouted, handing Jeremy a wodge of tissues for his now-bleeding nose.

"WHAT?!" Nathan and I yelped in unison.

"He told you?" Nathan repeated incredulously. "So…what the fuck?!"

"It started after that storm," Jeremy said, taking my advice and leaning forward slightly. "It did something to me. Sometimes it's like I'm a dog. When I was a kid, we had this Jack Russell, Billy. We did everything together."

After the storm? Oh my God, it really it wasn't just us who was effected! is something I so very nearly said out loud. Thankfully I managed to suck this one in; no need to nearly land myself in it twice in one day.

"That's weird!" Nathan whispered to his mum, who was getting more tissues. "That's really weird!"

"He was my best friend. Now whenever I see a Jack Russell, it…it brings back all these feelings, and the next thing I know I'm waking up…naked."

"It's true," confirmed Nathan's mum. "I didn't believe it at first, but I've seen what he's like when he changes."

Nathan looked like he was about to be sick. "Just…are you honestly telling me that you're okay with this?!"

"If that's who he is," she said solemnly. "I've got to accept it. I mean, some men dress up in women's clothing!"

"Yeah, they're just sick perverts!" Nathan persisted. He gestured at Jeremy. "He's dangerous!"

Jeremy stood up quickly and stood behind Nathan's mum. "I would never hurt your mum! I love her." He and Nathan's mum shared an adoring look between them.

"Awww!" I said, actually finding the declaration rather sweet. I was rewarded with three separate WTF looks. "Sorry."

Nathan's mum had a closer look at Jeremy's face. "You've broken his nose!"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Urgh, it's not like you can enter him in Crufts!"

I honestly think the only person more surprised about what happened next than me was Nathan himself. Louise's hand flew out and connected with her son's cheek with a harsh cracking noise. I gasped, she gasped. Hell, we all gasped. Nathan looked at his mum in incredulity, clutching the side of his face that she'd slapped. There was a pregnant pause before he turned and bolted out of the back door.

"Oh shit," I muttered, dashing after him, leaving his mum and Jeremy in the kitchen. "Nathan!" I yelled after him. "Nathan!" He was halfway down the road when I caught up with him, his hands stuffed moodily in the pockets of his hoodie. "Nathan, for God's sake, stop!" I grabbed hold of his arm and yanked. He did stop, but he didn't make any attempt to say anything. Instead, he just pulled a cigarette from his pocket, stuck it in his mouth and lit it. "Nathan, come on, talk to me."

"Why? What can you have to say that'd make me feel better? Why would you be able to do that?" Oookaaay, it was very rare for Nathan to get that short with me. He was shaken, that much was obvious. I hated seeing him like this, but I also knew they only way to get him to snap out of it was to fight stubborn with stubborn.

"Because I'm your best mate, Nathan," I said bluntly. "You can talk to me." Silence. "I know that was the first time she's hit you."

"So?"

"So, think yourself lucky. Some kids get that every day. And I mean kids. That was nothing and to be honest, you did kinda bring it on yourself. You're fucking twenty-two and throwing yourself a fucking pity party over a half-arsed slap. Get over it."

Nathan blinked. "I was hoping for a bit more fuckin' sympathy, Blake."

"Why?" I challenged.

"Because I'm fuckin' sick of this!" he exclaimed, throwing his cigarette on the ground. "Community service, the fines, gettin' kicked out, bein' homeless! It's fucking pointless! I wanna go back to gettin' wrecked every weekend, passing out in my own vomit then my mum makin' me a bacon sarnie!"

"You wanna go back?! You wanna go back?! You selfish fuck!" I cried out, shoving him. "You think I don't wanna go back?! I would give anything to not be here! I wanna go back! I wanna go back to when I was normal! I wanna go back to when my head wasn't full of bullshit! To when I could feel something! Back to when I wasn't scarred, to when I didn't have to meet some random every fucking week just to check I haven't wanted to top myself again! I'd give...I'd give anything...just to be me again."

Silence again. We just stared at each other, and I could feel tears in my eyes. I didn't think Nathan and I had ever been as prickly with each other as we had been after the last week or so. I didn't like shouting at him but these feelings had just been building up and up and apparently now was the time I was deciding to let them out.

Nathan was the first to speak. "So what do we do?"

I shrugged. "What can we do? Run away?"

"If you want to," Nathan replied seriously.

I barked out a bitter laugh. "What good would that do? We'd be found. People like us always get found." I shook my head. "Running away won't solve anything. We just need to face this like grown-ups and get on with it."

Nathan also laughed, but his sounded a lot sadder. "Grown-ups. What a load of shit."

I gave him a small smile. "Grown-ups," I repeated. "Just you and me against the world, Watson. Come on, let's go get a pint and forget the pile of shit today was ever happened."

Nathan shook his head. "Sorry Blakey, I'd love to but I've got place to be and other ladies to see."

Consider my interest officially piqued. "Oh yeah? What's that then?" I said lightly, but I could already feel that horrible twisting jealous side of me churning away. I knew exactly who he planned on seeing.

"I need to go see Ruth and give her phone back. I'm gonna see if I can pick up where we left off last night," he smirked, giving me an outrageous wink.

I made a noise of repugnance. "Twat. You really have no shame, do you?"

"'Fraid not, love. What ya see is what ya get, you should know that by now." At least he was grinning, even if it was that cocky grin that often times made me want to punch his teeth down his neck.

I rolled my eyes. "Lucky for you, I am one of the only people who likes what she sees when it comes to you. Alright fine, go see your hussy. I'll see you in the morning I guess."

"Bring me a coffee?" he called after me as I turned and trudged back to my car. I just shot a V into the air with my fingers. Jesus Christ, drinking partner or not, now I really did need a fucking pint.

A/N- Please review!
Julian Quinn is played by Jeremy Irvine

Chapter Four Playlist
Girl All the Bad Guys Want – Bowling For Soup
Goin' Down – The Pretty Reckless

Chapter Five Playlist
Flavor of the Weak – American Hi-Fi
Not Nineteen Forever – The Courteeners
Dying to Believe – Sleeping With Sirens