AN: this has gotten a lot shorter than I thought it would but I'm pretty sure the next one is going to be longer.

Disclaimer: the song "Close" sadly doesn't belong to me but to Rascal Flatts. But I'm sure they can perform it way better than I ever could.

Hope you enjoy!

It's just a worn out Notre Dame T-shirt

She's gotten mad and tried to throw that thing away

At least a hundred times

But she's got it on tonight.

Sometimes, when the pain got too bad, she was close to tearing it apart. Sometimes, she had thrown it against any wall of her apartment with all the force she had left in her body just to watch it slowly side down to the floor and simply keep staring at it. Those were the nights, those were the day when she didn't believe she'd ever see light again. She felt as if a thick merciless darkness surrounded her that just wouldn't pass.

In the end, she'd always get up from that couch she'd been sitting on, walk over to the end of the room and collect the shirt. She'd sigh, close her eyes for a while, take a deep breath and make her way back to the couch. Back there, Allison would sit down again, press the shirt against her face and try to catch just a faint rest of his sent in it. Sometimes she really thought she did. But then again, it could be just her imagination. Usually, that was the point where the tears would start to roll down her cheeks while the shirt muffled her silent cries. She'd curse herself for being so weak and because she wasn't able to let go and at the same time she couldn't help but wonder why this had to happen to her. It wasn't fair, she was way too young. She should be happy, go out with friends and have lots of fun. She should be dancing at bars, flirting with guys she met and have a good time. Instead, she was sitting at home, crying her eyes off until sheer exhaustion drover her to bed. She'd strip her clothes off, put his shirt on and sleep, only to awake with a migraine-like throbbing headache the next day. She'd reach for water and aspirin and wish she could spend the day in bed and didn't have to see anybody. Despite her wishes, she'd get up, fold the shirt neatly, put it away and swear that this was the last time she had let herself go like this. Maybe some day it would really be true.