Vince froze, much like a rabbit in the headlights. Friendly banter and the smell of turkey drifted in from the dining room. He dropped the unused knife in the sink, wincing as it clattered to a halt. Howard swallowed audibly.

"Vince. Just…what have you been doing?" He shrugged in reply, looking strangely distant, eyes darting around the kitchen. "You-you've don't this before haven't you. Show me your wrists."

"No!"

"Just do it!"

"Its none of your business!" He tried to dart past, making a dash for the stairs, but slipped on a ridiculous Christmas decoration and ended up grappling at the countertop pathetically. The shirt sleeve had ridden up in the process revealing a painfully thin arm littered with cuts.

"Oh god." Howard had gone a few shades paler, and could feel his meal shifting uncomfortably in his stomach. "You said you were better. You said you were okay." Vince face contorted in anguish.

"Yeah, well I am to me. Its none of your business anyway, is it!?" He spat, tugging the sleeve back down and pacing a little, before leaning against the wall, glaring.

"None of my bloody business? Vince, you're my friend, of course its my business! I want you to recover. I'll help you!"

"I don't need you help!" He snarled, successfully barging past him friend and stalking up the stairs. Howard perused, suddenly worried about what was going to happen next. The bathroom door slammed shut before he could get in.

"Vince!" He hammered on the door, "Vince get out here now! I'm worried about you, your reckless, you're gonna do something stupid, please just open the door!"

"I'm not thick, and aren't I allowed to have a shower anymore?!" Howard guessed the question was rhetorical, but still dithered on the other side of the door, barely relaxing when the shower patters to life and the smell of whatever expensive conditioner marked with a post-it note reading "KEEP OFF" is currently in use. With classic timing, a shadow cast down the narrow hallway, and Melinda sidled up beside him.

"Come downstairs." She purred tugging on his hand.

"No!" He said, shrugging her off, still trying to listen through the door.

"So you'd rather stay upstairs, eh?" Somehow, she had managed to shimmy between him and the door, and was trying to look as seductive as possible, subtly moving in the direction of the bedroom.

"Mel, we can't!" He whispered after her. She had already began to undo her hair, and it now tumbled down her back in loose curls. "My-erm..my mums downstairs."

"Then why are you listening to him in the shower?"

"Erm..well.." Melinda sighed and readjusted her dress.

"Come on…lets go downstairs then. Your mum's finished her dinner and is lecturing us all on chavs that come to her door with ski masks on to sing Christmas carols."
"What?!"

"Look, never mind, just hurry up. And get away from the bathroom, the blokes only having a shower! Think of the rest of us downstairs!"
"Well…Mel, actually. Um. I think he's ill. I need to do something so could you go and keep everyone happy down there? Please?"

The woman in question glared intensely, then skulked away, leaving a small trail of hair accessories behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Howard went into his room and picked up his phone, scrolling down to the number tabbed as 'Naboo – Cabin' Maybe Naboo would know what to do, seen as Bollo was already blind drunk on his own unique cocktail, 'Eggnog Martinis'.

The phone seemed to be ringing forever, before Corrine answered the phone. Soothing music was playing in the background and Howard could almost smell the incense.
"Hello?" Asked the voice again, as he had unwittingly begun to daydream.

"Oh hiya! Sorry, um, its only a quick call, but could I possibly have a speedy word with Naboo?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll just get him for you. He...might take a minute though!" The phone was put down, and the volume of the music lowered slightly. Downstairs however, loud, karaoke music thumped through the floor.

"Howard you nob, what d'you want? I told you I didn't want disturbing!" Naboo sounded mildly irritated.

"Yeah. Naboo. I need you to help me. Its about Vince…"

Back in the bathroom, Vince was getting dressed again, leaving a pile of slightly bloodied towels by the wash basket. What little amount he'd eaten was now splattered down the toilet bowl.

It was over, because everybody knew.

Please review!

// Screams and legs it //