A/N – Many thanks to Judging. All Day Every Day and MsDrPotatoPond for your absolutely lovely reviews! I always appreciate the continued support from the both of you, it means so much. I'm moving away from canon mostly for this chapter, so I really hope you enjoy!

Chapter Nine – Broken Hearts Club

We'd done it. I couldn't believe it. We'd done it. We'd gotten away with it. We were free, we weren't going to prison. I could breathe – and sleep – a hell of a lot easier. What's more, knowing that you're not about to be hauled off to the nearest HMP does wonders for the mood. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and all in all, I felt pretty mellow for the rest of the day. We'd managed to permanently get rid of the bodies, and hell, it was now only ten o'clock. The rest of the day after that seemed so mundane: finishing packing up the remaining clothes for the Africans, sticking mailing labels on said boxes, and saying sayonara to that fucking annoying Charity Guy.

As soon as we were officially off the clock, we all headed up to the roof, which seemed to slowly be turning into the routine for the end of the day. I curled up in Nathan's lap as we sat one of the chairs and lit a cigarette, enjoying the feeling of the late June sunshine on my face and listening to the various sirens in the distance. The soundtrack to South London living.

"It doesn't matter who's after us now," Kelly said blissfully. "They'll never find the bodies. See ya." She added a jovial little wave.

"It's finally over," I said happily, flicking some ash off my cigarette before taking another deep drag.

"They're going to think the probation worker's still alive," piped up Simon. "I stole his credit card. I used it to book a flight."

"Damn, boy. When'd you get so freaking good at this sorta thing?" I said appreciatively.

"That is smart," said Curtis approvingly, grinning at him.

"Yeah, you're dead good at stuff like that," added Kelly.

"Yeah, nice one, Weird Kid," even Nathan praised him. Simon smiled around the group, looking pleased with himself.

"I cannot believe we got away with this shit!" proclaimed Alisha.

"We should all go out for a drink!" Simon said excitedly. "You know, to celebrate!" Oh no. I could tell he was about to go into some adrenaline induced, excitable meltdown. No, no, bad call! "It's like an ironic 'fuck you' to the probation worker!" he continued, standing up. "We're all out having a good time – you're buried under the foundations of an environmental monitoring station!" He looked around at us eagerly, but his smile was quickly fading as he saw everyone's varying looks of uninterested-ness.

"See you all tomorrow, yeah?" said Alisha, pushing herself off of the chair she was sitting in and starting to walk away.

As she was making her way to the door, she paused for a minute and shot Curtis a very suggestive look, causing him to immediately leap up with a hurried, "Later!" The two of them disappeared through the door and I couldn't help but shake my head. First they were on, then they were off, then they were really off, and now they were clearly back on again. I was giving myself emotional whiplash just trying to keep up with them. David and Victoria Beckham, they were not.

Next to start leaving was Nathan, who tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Come on, move your fat arse, Blakey."

"You really know how to make a girl feel special, Nate," I mocked, reluctantly moving to my feet. As usual, he just smirked at me before pushing himself up from the chair with a groan.

"Do you want to come for a drink?" Simon asked as Nathan passed him.

"Are you askin' me out on a date?" Nathan demanded.

"No. I meant all of us," said Simon, stuttering slightly.

"Did you?" Nathan leaned closer to Simon and jabbed his finger at him. "I am not your whore!"

As Nathan walked away, Kelly looked at Simon apologetically and said, "There's no way I'm goin' out till me hair grows back. Sorry."

As the stairwell door slammed shut for the third time, it was just me and Simon left on the roof. His giddiness seemed to have subsided somewhat, and he seemed slightly deflated. I moved to stand beside him, stretched and grinned at him to make him feel better.

"Okay, I'll see you at seven then, yeah?" I told him.

"What do you mean?" Not quick on the uptake at all, this one.

I heaved a mock sigh. "Oh dear. Well, you want to go for a drink, and there is no fucking way I'm setting foot in any form of bar or pub wearing this piece of shit-" I plucked at the leg of my jumpsuit. "So I'm gonna need a couple of hours to get ready. Therefore, I'm expecting you outside my house at seven tonight. Comprendé?"

"Oh. Right, okay. S-sure. Where…where do you live?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm in the middle of the estate. It's Flat Five down D Block. Newport Road," I explained. As I opened the roof door, I turned to him and warned, "By the way, if you're late, I might have to kill you." I shot him a cheeky smile to show him I was joking before heading down the stairs.

"Blakey! Yo, Blakey!" Nathan shouted at me as he paused his daily assault of the vending machine. "You hangin' around tonight? I found where the bar staff hide the Grey Goose, we can get proper shitfaced!" He kicked the machine again for good measure. "Fuck, that bag of Wotsits is tauntin' me."

I shook my head. "Sorry babe, things to do, places to be." I skipped over to him and shoved two quid in the machine. "There. Get yourself a chocolate bar as well."

I'd forgotten how to go out. I'd forgotten how to have friends. That was the only explanation as to why I was stood here staring into my dresser with no fucking idea what I was supposed to wear. Being realistic, Simon and I were gonna stick out like sore thumbs, we would be the most mismatched pair in any pub on the estate. He looked like a preacher's son; I looked like I needed an exorcism.

I mean, I wasn't exactly about to get dressed up. Yes, it was only the two of us since everyone else had bailed, but this was not and never would be a date. Oh God, what if Simon thought this was a date?! He had a habit of letting small acts of kindness run away with him. Hell, it was how I'd ended up agreeing to this in the first place. What if he'd got the wrong end of the stick?

I didn't want to upset him if he did think that. He was such a sweetheart, and I was sure that one day he'd make a special lady very happy. I was not that lady. I would never be that lady. I wasn't actually sure I'd be anyone's lady anymore. Some days at the moment it felt like even my relationship with Nathan was hanging by a thread, which was a tad counterproductive when all part of me wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and kiss him like my life depended on it. Of course, I'd never do that. I couldn't ruin a seventeen-year friendship over feelings I was half-sure had only developed since the lightning. Near-death experiences will do that to a chick.

I was overthinking this. Of course Simon wouldn't think this was a date, how bloody conceited could I be. It would be a drink, maybe two, at the nearest pub we could find within walking distance. I certainly wouldn't be getting drunk. I wasn't really supposed to drink alcohol as it was, what with my meds and all that, although I'd be the first to admit that I hadn't stuck to that rule all that well. And by 'all that well,' I meant at all.

However, my scrambled thoughts on alcohol weren't at all helping with my current predicament. Part of me seriously considered if I even needed to get changed. Nah, that wouldn't work. If I turned up looking like I did now – wet hair wrapped in a towel, no make-up, trackies and an old t-shirt – Simon would take one look at me and run screaming in the opposite direction.

"Why am I putting so much effort into this?" I huffed, eventually just reaching into the dresser and grabbing a pair of jeans and a black cross-over top. It would do. Sitting down on my bed, I plugged in my hairdryer and cracked on with making myself look half-presentable. Mama didn't raise no scruffy bitch.

Quarter to seven rolled around and I was stood in the bathroom finishing up my makeup. The doorbell rang, and as I assumed it was Simon being his usual punctual self, I just called out, "Door's open! Won't be a sec!" and quickly shut the bathroom door so I could do a last minute wee. I heard the door open and shut, then a few footsteps go into the living room. Finishing up on the loo, I smiled at my reflection and headed into the main flat. "Hey, Sim- Julian!?" There, sitting on my sofa looking like he'd made himself right at home, was my psycho ex-boyfriend. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Well Princess," he drawled, crossing one leg over the other. "Since you've insisted on ignoring all of my texts and calls, I decided I might need to pop round to see you myself."

I folded my arms. "Did it not occur to you that, oh I don't know, I was ignoring you for a fucking reason?" Over the last week, Julian's texts had become incessant. It had began with the ones he sent the day Sally started, just a few days into the shitshow of community service. He'd been quiet for a week or so after that, but then he popped back up like a boomerang I just could not get rid of. I'd ignored him because frankly, I had a lot more important shit to be dealing with like, ya know, burying my probation worker.

He grinned at me, still lounging back on the sofa. "Come on B, don't be like this. I know you've missed me really. Come and give us a little kiss." He turned his head to the side and tapped his cheek with his finger.

"Cunt!" Repeating the same action from the night we split up, I hoicked a mouthful of spit onto his cheek instead.

"Still so ladylike," he said with snort, pulling his hoodie sleeve over his hand and using it to wipe his face. Still, it was enough to finally make him stand up. The me from last year would have immediately shrank back in fear; the me from now stood chest-to-chest with him, my neck craned back so I could look him dead in the eye.

"Yeah well, don't really have a lot of reasons to be a lady, do I?" I snapped. "Seriously Julian, what are you doing here? I don't have time for this bullshit, I've got stuff to be getting on with."

"Oh yeah? Is that why you're dressed half-presentably for a change? Going out? Got yourself a nice new delinquent boyfriend?" he sneered. "Wait, I know. You're finally fucking that prick of a best mate of yours, aren't you?"

"Even if I was fucking Nathan – which I'm not – it wouldn't be any of your fucking business," I retorted. "How's things going with Rhea, by the way?" I named his girlfriend of three months. "Doubt she'd be happy to know your still so hung up on your ex." I wanted nothing to do with him, but Facebook was bloody ceaseless in reminding me of Julian's personal life at least twice a week.

"We split up," he replied, not sounding at all cut up about it in the slightest.

"That's too bad." My tone was cold.

He shrugged. "I wasn't that bothered. Girls like her always do my head in. She was always saying yes, agreed with everything I said, had no thoughts for herself." He grinned wickedly at me. "I like my girls with a little more fight in them."

I rolled my eyes heavily. "Now I know you ain't talking about me, dickhead."

Julian reached out and tried to take my hand, which I promptly snatched back. "Come on, Blake, don't be like that. We were good together, you know we were."

"You know, you're right. We were good together," I agreed sarcastically. "For about...six months. Then you decided you didn't want me to be a girlfriend, you wanted me to be a toy. I'm amazed yes-girl Rhea wasn't your perfect woman."

"I loved you, Blake," he said lowly. "I did fucking everything for you, you ungrateful bitch. Nothing was too much, I gave you anything!"

"Is that what love is to you, Julian?" I demanded, starting to get wound up. "Toss a shitload of cash at your girlfriend and just fuck her feelings?"

"You never fucking listen, do you?" he snarled. "You never could when we were together and you clearly can't now."

"Why the fuck would I ever want to listen to a word you say ever again?!"

"I highly recommend you listen to what I have to say now, Princess, if you want your pathetic little life to mean anything."

"Yeah, alright, because threatening me is really the way to get me to listen." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fucking spit it out then."

"I want you back!" Julian yelled, his self-control crumbling as he seized hold of my shoulders and violently shook me. It was probably supposed to hurt, but of course, all I could feel was the sensation of pressure on my skin. "Stop being such a fucking stubborn cow and come back to me!"

"You broke my jaw, you fucking psychopath!" I shouted, batting his hands off me and stepping back out of his reach. "You ruined me, arsehole! You gave me pure hell on Earth and said to fucking work with it! Why the fuck would you be so delusional to think I would ever want to be with you again?!"

He chuckled darkly. "I'm signing with a new club. I'm leaving the Wolves at the end of the 2010 season and going to London Wasps. I want you to come with me, bumblebee. You always were my little good luck charm on the pitch."

Now it was my turn to laugh, the sound loud and bitter. "You're so full of shit, it's actually funny. You want me to come with you? Let me think about that for a hot second...um...no. Y'know, I'm actually happy for you, Jules. You getting signed to Wasps means you'll be the other side of the fucking city and far, far away from me."

Julian smiled at me, but it was not a happy smile. It was a manipulative, almost evil smile. "You don't get it, do you, Blake? I'm not giving you a choice here. You are going to come with me."

My hand flew out and connected with Julian's face, the sound of the backhand snapping through the little flat. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare think you can talk to me like that now. I'm nothing to do with you anymore, Julian, get that into your thick, 'roided-up brain. I think you forget that I'm not that stupid, terrified, beaten little girl who fell in love with you years ago. You made sure of that. The only thing I have to thank you for after wasting two and a half years of my life on you is that I finally grew a fucking spine. The day I woke up in hospital after trying to kill myself – because of you – was the day I decided not to let any fuckrag stand in my way or hurt me ever again." I held my arms out, presenting the new and improved Blake Harper in all her glory. "You did this to me, Jules. You only have your fist to blame."

He let out a low, dark chuckle. "I tried to be nice, Princess. I tried to let you make this decision yourself. I really didn't want to have to do this, but you're leaving me no choice." Out of nowhere, his arm shot out and I had no time to react or pull back.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. Of course it didn't hurt, but I could feel something, something so bizarre and out of place that I don't even know how to put it into words. The second his hand locked around mine, I could feel...pulses? No, that's not the right word...waves. Invisible, forceful waves making their way inside me, like a chill to the bone. "Julian, wha-"

"Come with me, Blake." His voice sounded so distant. I was looking straight at him, but his features began to blur, almost smear away like someone had spilt water on a watercolour. My head tilted to the side, feeling weighted under a fog that thickened with every word Julian spoke. "Be with me. Come with me. Be my bumblebee..."

No! I wanted to scream. No, no, no! But I couldn't. My head was yelling every obscenity I could think of, but my mouth...I couldn't explain it. I felt compelled to do exactly what he said. "Julian..." Was that my voice? I couldn't tell. The fog was becoming heavier, my smeary vision becoming darkness. Soon...soon I would see nothing. "Yes...yes, I will c-"

There was a sudden loud knock at the door, making us both jump and causing Julian to drop my hand. The blurriness abruptly snapped back, my vision righting itself again. My head cleared, whatever fog Julian's words had caused lifting instantly. My eyes flew open, my face contorting into a murderous glare. I must have looked terrifying, as even Julian – huge, hulking great rugby centre Julian Quinn – backed up about three foot away from me.

"Blake-"

"What the fuck was that?" I whispered dangerously. It was impossible. Julian couldn't have a power as well, he just couldn't...there was no way…

"Blake, hold on." Julian reached for my hand again but I was quicker, shoving my hands into his chest and pushing him away from me.

"GET OUT!" I screeched. "GET OUT! FUCK OFF AND GET OUT!"

Julian recovered enough from his initial shock to shoot me that absolutely infuriating smirk of his. "Babydoll suddenly having second thoughts? I heard you, Blake, you were gonna say yes."

"That wasn't me!" I yelled, shoving him again, this time towards the door. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but that bullshit won't work on me!"

"Give it time, bumblebee," he jeered, walking off on his own accord, though I followed him to make sure he got the fuck out of my flat. "You know I always get what I want."

"Yeah? Not this time," I spat through gritted teeth. I flung the door open and shoved him for a third time, causing him to knock clean into Simon, who had been standing outside the door this whole time, apparently. "Get the fuck away from me, you disgusting cretin!"

Straightening his hoodie, Julian raked his eyes up and down Simon before scoffing. "Is this him? That new delinquent boyfriend? Wow, Blake. Just like I thought, you'll never do better than me. See you around, Princess."

"Piss off!" I shrieked, throwing the potted plant I kept on the table by the front door at him. He laughed yet again, dodging the plant so it landed at his feet with the pot shattering and walked off, but not before flashing me the finger.

As I stood in the doorway trying to slow my breathing and my anger levels, Simon seemed to be hesitant to come near me. "It's fine, Simon. I'm not gonna throw a plant at you as well." As he moved more into the light spilling from my hallway, I saw he was dressed very nicely, much more casually than usual, in black jeans, a denim jacket and a maroon polo shirt, although the shirt was still buttoned as high as it could go. "Wow, Mr Business-Cas. Looking good."

Even such a simple compliment caused Simon to fluster, his face flushing a deep red. "Th-thanks, y-you look nice as well." His head turned to look where Julian had been standing, then he turned back to me. "Who was that?"

"You've just had the great honour of meeting my mental ex-boyfriend," I said grimly.

"Blake?" Dad called to me. "Darling, are you awake?" My bedroom door creaked open. "Blake?"

"Yeah." My voice was weak, muffled by the duvet pulled up to my eyes. "I'm awake."

"I'm just off to work, love," he told me. "Your mum's left you a croissant on the worktop. Are you...going to be alright on your own?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks Daddy."

"See you later, love." A few seconds later, the front door opened and closed, and all that was left was silence.

Alone. Alone, alone, alone. That's all I ever was nowadays. Nobody cared. Nobody gave a shit. I hadn't left this room in three days except to go to the toilet and all anyone could say was, "Mum's left you a croissant." Why the fuck would I care about a fucking pastry?! I was still terrified of eating solid food in case it did something to my jaw again. My jaw…

Much the same as every morning, I cursed the day I met Him. My jaw had only had its wire removed two weeks ago. So while he was out there still playing for the Wolves, still star of the town, still living his best life, I was here. I was isolated, I was broken, and I was empty. I was a shell of the girl I had been.

As much as I hated it, I dragged myself out of bed and stood in front of my full-length mirror. My sickly white hands traced my torso, trailed over the ribs that protruded through my skin, went over the collarbones looking like they could burst through at any moment, dancing over the pelvic bone poking out like a science lab skeleton over the top of the old pyjama bottoms just barely clinging to my hips.

He did this to me.

I was horrifying, there was no polite way of putting it. My eyes looked sunken, my skin on my face waxy. I couldn't even tell you when I'd last washed my hair. Two weeks ago? It didn't matter, it wasn't like I did anything with it except tie it back in a lank ponytail. But why did it matter? No one saw me. No one cared.

Sitting back down on the bed, I reached for my phone with a dull feeling of hope in my chest. Maybe someone, anyone, had tried to text me. That hope rapidly faded as I pushed the phone open and was greeted by exactly zero notifications. Not even one from Nathan.

Some best friend. I hadn't heard a word from him in over a week, not since he'd dropped in last Wednesday with a tub of ice cream and a copy of Rob Zombie's Halloween that he'd borrowed from Blockbuster. Even then, he'd barely stuck around more than ten minutes after the credits rolled. I couldn't blame him; I wasn't much fun to be around these days.

I could have texted him, of course I could, but truth be told...I didn't want to bother him. I didn't want to bother anyone. If I thought Nathan was being a bad friend, then with friends like Scott, Tyler, Alex, Trixie, Lizzie and Billy, who needed enemies? I hadn't heard a word from any of them since I'd been discharged from hospital almost two months ago. Well fuck them. Fuck them all.

I ended up back in bed for the majority of the day, just...stewing. I knew I'd fallen asleep once or twice, I must have been in there for hours. The emptiness inside me was always so much more obvious when everyone was at work and school.

I was sick of this. I was sick of everything. I was sick of feeling sorry for myself, I was sick of constantly being in pain, I was sick of looking like a bag of bones and most of all, I was sick of being in everyone's way. No one had said that, but I knew, I just knew. Nobody wanted me here anymore. Why would they?

Mum and Dad didn't even want me here, and I couldn't say I blamed them. I could have gone back to work and my flat days ago, but I was still hanging around here like a bad smell. They also hadn't said they didn't want me around, but why would they? Ella and Alfie were kids, they really did need looking after. I was a grown-arse woman moping around like a lazy teenager. I was just taking up space.

I'd got my doctor to sign me off work for another month as well. I...I couldn't face the idea of going back. All those people, those loud noises, the crowds, and the fact there was nothing stopping Him from dropping in and paying me a visit. There were only two and a half weeks left on his restraining order. Once that was finished, he'd come back for me. I knew he would.

What was wrong with me? How had I turned a man who supposedly loved me into such a monster? This had to be my fault. Maybe I talked back too much. Maybe if I'd just been quiet, he wouldn't have become the person he was when we split up. Maybe he wouldn't have hurt me.

I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't. It hurt too much. My head hurt, my limbs hurt, and my heart just felt void of anything. Soulless, even. I didn't want to feel like this anymore. I wouldn't feel like this anymore, I was about to make sure of it.

I wrote a note. I couldn't leave my family without answers, I could never be that selfish. I apologised to them. Apologised for the mess I'd become, for being a terrible sister and a shitty daughter. I apologised for the hell I'd put them through while I was in hospital. I apologised for being a burden who needed ferrying to and from the court dates. I apologised to whoever had to find me. And I told them all how much I loved them.

The final paragraph was dedicated to Nathan. Despite how bitter my thoughts had become, I told him how he was the best friend a girl could ever ask for. I penned a few memories I didn't want him to forget, like how my strapless dress had fallen down at our Year 11 prom and his idea of covering me up was to give me two red solo cups to stick over my boobs. I told him not to blame himself; he'd saved my life the day he stood between Him and me, but in the end, no one could have saved what I'd become. I finished the paragraph the same way I had finished my family's: a declaration of love. You're the one I loved most of all, Nathan. You're my whole world, and the most important person in it. Please remember me as the Blake you truly knew; happy, feisty and full of life. I just wish I could have been her forever.
I love you all. I'm sorry. Yours, always and forever, Blake x

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I grabbed some blu-tack from my desk and pinned the note to my bedroom door, where it would easily be found. Biting my lip to keep anymore tears at bay, I turned and headed to the bathroom, my entire being completely numb at this point.

Using almost robotic movements, I rifled through the bathroom cabinet. I shoved aside boxes of plasters, a tube of Deep Heat, some sponges and Mum's peroxide, until I found what I was looking for. I prised open the plastic box of Dad's fresh razor blades and grabbed the first one in there.

With a shaking hand, I lifted the blade up and pressed the sharp tip into the top of my left wrist. Bright scarlet droplets of blood appeared the second the blade broke the skin, but I was so desensitized to what was happening that I barely felt a thing. The numbness continued as I dug the blade in deeper and dragged it down my forearm, blood now flowing freely from the wound.

I still felt nothing. Nothing but light wooziness.

Razor blade still clutched in my hand, I collapsed back against the bathroom wall and slowly slid down until I hit the floor. Blood was trickling down my arm, over my palm and beginning to pool on the bathroom floor. The more blood that flowed, the more the wooziness intensified. I was staring at the red puddle spreading over the grey tiles, but I was struggling to keep my head up. The wooziness was becoming blackness now, and a small smile played on my lips. Peace was coming...it would be over soon...

My eyes fluttered shut, and I could feel my breathing becoming laboured. Was that the front door opening…? No, it couldn't be...Mum and Dad weren't supposed to be home until 4 or 5...I was imagining things.

The darkness was here. I could see it now. I wasn't scared. I was ready. It was finally over. The last thing I heard was the sound of my Dad running up the stairs, calling my name. I was sure it was my imagination again, my brain giving me what it thought I wanted, but I was glad. I always had been a Daddy's girl.

Goodbye, Daddy...goodbye, everyone...I love you...

I couldn't stop hugging myself. The entire walk to the nearby pub, The Crown and Thorn, I kept my arms tightly wrapped around my midsection, still somewhat shivering. The chill I'd felt from...what ever Julian had tried to do to me was lingering. I felt frozen all over, my bones like splinters of ice in my skin. It had to be a power; how else would I be able to feel it?

"Are you cold?" Simon asked courteously. "You can have my jacket if you like."

I shook my head. "N-no...no, I'm not cold." Not in the sense he thought, anyway. "Thank you though, Si, I really appreciate it." My voice sounded so small, so unlike me. Should I tell him about Julian's potential power? I didn't know. This was supposed to be a chilled night out, I didn't want to worry him. Nope, nope, nope. I'd deal with this shitty unexpected development tomorrow. Julian could get fucked. "Fucking arsehole," I grumbled under my breath, though apparently not as quietly as I'd thought.

"You...you don't get on with your ex-boyfriend, do you?" Simon said hesitantly.

"Am I being that obvious?" I said sarcastically, shoving open the pub door as we approached it, breathing in deeply to inhale that classic smoke-and-beer scent in the air. Ah, smelt like home. I turned back to Simon, who nodded. "What can I say. By this point, it's a hate-hate relationship."

"I'm sorry if you think I'm intruding," he replied as we sat down in a far-corner booth, taking off his leather jacket and neatly folding it onto the seat next to him.

I shrugged. "I don't hide who I am. A lot of people know my business with Julian from the papers, there's nothing left to hide at this point."

Simon's eyebrows raised. "Papers? What do you mean?"

I sighed, mentally facepalming. Of course Simon – quiet, nerdy, totally un-sports-oriented Simon – wouldn't have given the Wertham Star a second glance when Julian's trial was in full swing. How would he have known? "This is gonna be a long story, and one that will require me to have a drink in front of me to tell it. Give me two secs."

I went to stand up, but Simon beat me to it, sliding out of the booth. "No, no, I'll get these ones. You've had a rough day. What would you like?"

"Oh Simon, you're so sweet," I said graciously. "Are you sure? I can give you a fiver." He shook his head insistently, smiling slightly. "Alright then, thank you kindly. I'll have a pint of Strongbow, please." With yet another nod, Simon disappeared in the direction of the bar. I leaned my head back against my chair and sighed, my head kind of throbbing. How did Julian always manage to draw this kind of reaction from me? I knew it was what he wanted, so why did I respond? Because I was a mess, that was why. A fucking depression-filled, anxiety-driven mess with terrible impulse control. That, and the fact I was 90% sure he'd developed some kind of fucked up mind control power.

My phone vibrated next to me. I was scared to look at it. I knew who it was without taking a single glance at the screen. Setting my mouth in a firm line, I reached out and picked up the phone. Sure enough, there was his initial displayed boldly on-screen.

- One New Message -
J

We're not done, Princess. I'll see you soon.

Fuck off. was the simple reply I sent, and just for good measure, I shut my phone off completely. I was not dealing with this, not now. Not ever, if I could help it. 'I'll see you soon.' Who the fuck did he think he was, some cliché Bond villain? Give me a break.

"Here you go," Simon's voice suddenly floated into my thoughts, and a pint glass of gloriously amber liquid was placed in front of me.

"Much appreciated," I said, holding the glass up to clink against his bottle of Bud. "To community service. May our rehabilitation turn us into upstanding members of society." We both took a long sip, then I let out a sigh once again. "I don't even know where to begin."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Simon said seriously.

I shook my head. "My therapist says it's good for me to talk about these things, and it has gotten easier over time. More importantly, you're my friend, Simon, you deserve to know." I took a deep breath and launched straight into the tale of When Blake Met Julian…

"I was only nineteen when Julian and I first met. There's a track around the outskirts of the rugby grounds that a lot of people use for dog walking and running. That's where I was. I used to run quite a bit back then, it used to help me break up my college work. The senior team was training too that day, but the track gave the pitch a wide enough berth that I didn't think it would be an issue. Turns out I was wrong. Someone tried to take a particularly violent attempt at a try conversion and the wind caught the ball. Cue me getting wiped out by said rugby ball and landing on my face in the dirt.

"So I'm lying there in my running gear, spitting dry mud and grass out of my mouth when I hear someone running over to me, followed by, 'hey, are you okay?' I looked up, and it was him. He was so gorgeous, it was the only thought I could actually bring up at the time. I knew who he was, obviously. I love rugby, I'd been following the Wolves for a couple of seasons. I just couldn't believe star player Julian Quinn was paying attention to me, let alone asking me if I was okay. I was fine, obviously, but I let him help me stand up because...I don't know, I wanted him to. He smiled at me, made sure I was okay one more time then buggered off back to his training session.

"I did another two laps of the field and while I was at the gate changing my running trainers to my normal trainers, there he was again. And he was smiling again. My God, that smile. That's where the problems started. I melted the second he looked at me, I would have done anything for him. I'm not a shy person, you know that, but that smile had me blushing like a stupid little girl. I didn't know what to say. He asked for my name, and I told him within a millisecond. Looking back, the fact he didn't bother telling me his and just assumed I'd know it should have been my first warning about what a narcissistic fuckhead he was."

I paused for a moment, taking a long drink from the glass in front of me before continuing, "But back then, what did I know? All I saw was this beautiful, rugged, talented rugby player who could have had any woman in town, but somehow all he was paying attention to was me. What was I supposed to do when he asked me out for a drink that weekend, say no? Of course not. I agreed to the date as soon as he'd finished asking the question.

"That was the beginning of the end. We were official almost laughably quickly, I think it was about three weeks later? And you know what, for the first six or seven months, everything was perfect. I was so in love with him, it practically blinded me. All I saw was Julian. Nathan hated it, and hated Julian too. I thought he was just jealous that I was now spending time with someone who wasn't him, so I ignored him. It actually started to drive a wedge between, something that had never happened before ever. The worst part was, I didn't even care. I had Julian, I didn't think I needed anyone else."

My hand was shaking as I took another drink, the guilt of remembering how badly I'd treated Nathan back then making me feel sick. "Then he hit me for the first time. I didn't see it coming. We'd been clubbing with a few of his rugby mates, and he'd thought one of them was flirting with me. I argued with him, told him he was being fucking stupid and of course no one was flirting with me. He didn't listen, and I got one hell of a backhand for my trouble. The black eye didn't go down for two weeks, I had to tell people that a kid at the park accidentally hit me with a rounders bat. Somehow, people believed me. That just made it worse.

"After that, it was like anything that pissed Julian off had to be taken out on me. I looked a guy for longer than half a second? A slap. I argued back? A scratch or two. The Wolves lost a game? A Chinese burn...maybe a punch if it was really bad. I learned how to cover up the bruises pretty quickly. I didn't see the point in telling anyone what Julian was doing to me; if I hadn't told them when it started, why would they believe me now?"

My voice cracked, a few tears escaping from the corner of my eye. "I don't know what caused me to snap the night I finally split up with him last Christmas. The lies he was spewing in front of all his friends, seeing the bullshit 'perfect boyfriend' routine, the fact I flinched every time he moved near me, maybe. It didn't matter. I thought I'd got away with it, but Julian was never gonna let me get away with embarrassing him so publicly. He followed me home. Nathan was there with me but he wasn't strong enough to stop...to stop him..." I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling the choking noises I was beginning to make, my other hand frantically wiping tears from my cheeks. "I'm so sorry..."

Simon reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Blake, you don't need to tell me anymore if you don't want to."

Shaking my head, I wiped the last of the tears from my face and cleared my throat. I needed to finish; I always broke down at this point and refused to say anymore. Not this time. Julian would not silence me, not again. "I'm just gonna say it; he broke my jaw." I didn't miss how Simon flinched, his mouth dropping open in aghast shock. "I know, it's beyond fucked up, but he did. Nathan had already called the police but they were too late. I'd never seen him like that, he was so...so angry. Him and Julian were still kicking the shit out of each other when the cops and paramedics arrived. Julian got arrested and I got taken to hospital. I just...I just wish that was the last time I'd be in that hospital, but it wasn't."

"Blake, you don't-" Simon started to say, withdrawing his hand, but I interrupted him.

"There's no point pussyfooting around it, Simon. You've seen my sessions on Tuesday, you must have realised something is wrong with me. Attempting suicide will do that to ya, but of course, I couldn't even do that right. My dad found me, got me back to the hospital. A lot of words describing my head got thrown around, but eventually they settled on depression, anxiety and PTSD. So I got sectioned. For two weeks I was in that goddamn hospital getting prised apart by shrinks, but I will be honest, talking it through and getting put on medication has really helped me out. Julian broke me, but recently I've really started to sort myself back out. I'm almost me again."

When I'd mentioned I'd been sectioned, I noticed Simon's hand clench around his beer bottle, his knuckles almost turning white under the pressure. I frowned, but elected not to ask the question. I figured if Simon wanted to discuss something, he would, but he didn't. Instead, he gave me a sympathetic smile and quietly said, "I'm sorry you had to go through that, you didn't deserve it in the slightest."

"Everyone has to go through something shitty to prove they can come out the other side, right?" I shrugged, draining my glass and returning his smile. "So what about you, Mr Arsonist? What's your story? Why'd you try and burn someone's house down?" Simon suddenly looked so sombre that I immediately backtracked. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cross into No Man's Land. Don't answer if you don't want to."

"No, I'll tell you. It's only fair."

"You sure?"

"Yes. It started in secondary school. The boy who lived next door to me…he stopped talking to me when we started Year Seven. He thought he was too cool to be seen with me. He started to bully me, just out of nowhere. It was horrible, and he got the other cool boys in our year to join in. I couldn't handle it. Every morning I'd wake up for school, and just thinking about it would make me feel sick."

"That is bloody awful. You poor thing." School-yard bullies were the fucking worst, just jumped up little pricks who thought they were better than everyone else just because Mummy and Daddy had a bit more money than other people. "Didn't you tell anyone? Your parents? The teachers?"

Simon nodded. "Both. They didn't do anything. Nothing happened, and it got worse. We left that school when we were eighteen, but even then he still wouldn't talk to me except to make fun of me."

"So I'm going out on a limb here and assuming it was his house you tried to burn down?" I queried.

He nodded again. "A few months ago, he sent me a text. He was inviting me to meet him on a night out. I thought…I thought he wanted to apologise. To make things up between us. So I decided to meet him at the club he'd told me he'd be at. I found him in the corner, with his mates and a couple of girls. He looked me up and down, and I knew then that he hadn't sent that text as an apology."

"He didn't send it as a piss take, did he?" I said angrily.

Simon shook his head. "It was worse. He'd sent it to me as a mistake. It was one of the most humiliating moments of my life." He looked down, an expression of absolute mortification on his face.

"Oh Simon," I said gently. His hand was positioned on the table next to his glass, so I reached out and placed my hand over his. He jumped at the contact at first, but then continued with his story.

"I was furious, so angry that I went home and for the first time ever, I…I got drunk," he admitted.

"Ah, alcohol. The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems," I quoted from The Simpsons.

Simon grinned weakly at me, but I could tell there was no heart in it. "I was thinking about everything he'd done to me at school. I…I lost it. I went round to his house. Nobody was in there, I made sure of it."

"No point adding murder to the rest of the charges." I was probably beginning to make too many jokes at this point but sometimes my only way of coping with heavy situations was injecting (dark) humour into it.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone," Simon told me. "I just wanted to make him see what he was doing to me was wrong. I soaked some tissues in lighter fluid, I set them on fire then dropped them through the letter box. But I messed up. There was a cat in the house."

"Wait, what? A cat…?" I repeated, furrowing my brows in confusion.

"I could hear it meowing behind the door. I panicked, I didn't want to hurt the cat, the cat didn't do anything!" Simon's voice had taken on a vaguely hysterical tone.

"Well yeah, it's a cat," I said lightly. "If you're getting bullied by a cat then there might be a few problems. So...what did you do? Did you break the door down?"

"No...no, I-I didn't have any water or anything, and I wasn't strong enough to break the door down. I could see the carpet catching fire through the window, so I...I…I pissed through the letter box." ...What.

I leaned back in complete shock. "I'm sorry, what? You pissed…through the letter box? Like, literally pissed?" I couldn't help it. I started laughing.

"That was when his mum came home, and she was just screaming in the driveway. I tried to stop, but I couldn't, it just kept coming! Please stop, I'm being serious!"

At this point I was cackling with laughter, almost bent double in my seat. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't be laughing, and I swear I'm trying to stop! Oh my God…" I forced myself to calm down. Once I had, I looked him dead in the eyes, held his hand tighter and said, "I bet the dickhead whose house it was totally deserved it. If it's any consolation, if I'd been at school with you, I would have kicked his arse."

"Thanks Blake. You're a really good friend."

The serious conversations now subsided, I headed to the bar to grab us a couple more drinks and Still, the rest of the evening passed really well. I really felt like I was getting to know Simon properly We discussed our favourite movies (his was 2001: A Space Odyssey, mine was The Exorcist), our favourite music (he was a fan of Echo and the Bunnymen, while I obviously hero-worshipped bands like BMTH and Nirvana), our favourite TV shows (His, Battlestar Galactica, mine, Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and anything and everything in between.

By the time we were ready to leave, it was totally pitch black when we emerged from the pub, the only sources of light coming from the very spaced out streetlights and the occasional passing car. According to my phone it was half past ten, so we'd been out a good three and a half hours. It was also freezing cold, and I was shivering in spite of my jeans and boots. Goddamn it, why didn't I bring a jacket.

We made light conversation for the majority of the walk back to my block of the estate, but it petered out towards the final five minutes of the journey. I had a feeling Simon's social battery may have been run dry over the last couple of hours; I'd heard him talk more tonight than I had the entirety of the last three weeks.

"Right, this is me," I said as we walked up to my front door. We both stood outside the door for a second. "I had a really nice time tonight, Simon. Thank you."

"I did too," he replied, giving me one of his shy little smiles.

I smiled back at him, then opened the front door. "Sleep well, see you in the morning."

I went to step inside but Simon reached out and grabbed my hand, stopping me in my tracks. "Blake, wait!"

"What's up?"

"Would...would you like to go out again?" The words came out of Simon's mouth so quickly I had to give myself a second to process them.

"Of course I would," I said good-naturedly, wondering why that question had been so important. "Hopefully next time we'll be able to persuade the others next time, and we can all-"

"No, not with everyone," he interrupted. "Just...just you and me. For dinner."

"For dinner?" I repeated incredulously, and without meaning to, I repeated the exact same words Nathan had used to torment him earlier on today. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

He nodded slowly, looking like a deer in headlights.

Oh God, no. No, no, no, this was exactly what I didn't want to happen! Simon was the nicest, sweetest boy I'd ever met, but I saw him in a very younger brother way, I wasn't attracted to him in the slightest. There was only one member of the ASBOees that I wanted to go on a date with, and he was so emotionally unavailable that it was pointless. I didn't know what to do. So I panicked, and rejected that poor sweet boy in this harshest way I probably could have.

"Simon…I…I'm sorry. I can't. I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow." I pulled my hand out of his and bolted through my front door, slamming it in his devastated, confused face.

Why couldn't anything in my life just stay simple?

A/N – A bit of a long chapter but I really wanted to get a bit more of Blake's backstory out into the open, and I hope you enjoyed it. It's the flashback episode next and I am so excited to show you all exactly how Blake ended up in everyone's favourite orange jumpsuit. Please review, this is an almost canon-less chapter so I'd love to hear opinions and ideas! Love to all! Xx Gee xX

Chapter Nine Playlist
Turbulent – Waterparks
Better Off Dead - Sleeping With Sirens
Alone – Sleeping With Sirens ft. MGK