A/N: Well, here it is. I'm having some writer's block atm with chapter 5 :\ Today, I had my RS exam. It was tragically bad :\ Anyway, enjoy :D

Chapter 7

Switching her alarm clock off, Gabriella pulled her covers further over her head. It wasn't out of tiredness or grumpiness. It was more out of ignorance. If she could stay in bed, if she could just fall back to sleep, then there would be no need for her to acknowledge what day it was. If she could just stay in bed all day, and not go into work, she might be able to cope. That way, when she inevitably started crying, nobody would be there to ask why.

But, then again, nobody would comfort her, either.

Dragging her feet out of bed, she wandered through to the kitchen of her flat in just a pair of shorts and a tank top. She stood there, listening to the workings of the kettle as it boiled the water, ready for her coffee. She leaned forward to press her forehead against the cupboard door. It was at this time that she missed Addie more than ever. Addie had never had expectations of her on this day. Where everybody else either expected her to still be distraught, others expected her to have moved on. After all, it'd been twelve years. But, to Addie, that didn't matter. All Addie saw was her older sister who was upset. She didn't expect Gabriella to be moving on with her life at the soonest opportunity. She just wanted to make everything better.

Alejandro, however, stayed away from Gabriella on this particular day of the year. It wasn't out of ignorance. Alejandro had never, throughout his marriage and fatherhood, mastered the art of playing Florence Nightingale. When anybody was upset, he always felt helpless. And it showed because it was guaranteed that he'd put his foot in his mouth and make it worse.

Without Addie, she had nobody. Nobody had ever been able to make her feel like it didn't matter if she cried. If she wanted to spend the day screaming, Addie would sit there patiently and only talk when Gabriella was finished. If Gabriella wanted to sleep, Addie would be there when she woke up. It didn't matter.

The landline phone started ringing but Gabriella stood still, determined to let her machine pick it up. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that it would either be Sharpay or Maria. It was a fifty-fifty chance as to which one it would be.

"Gabriella," Maria began quietly. So it was her mother this year. "How are you doing today, Sweetheart? Maybe you shouldn't go into work today."

Wrong. If Gabriella didn't go into work, who knows what she'd do. If she went to work, she could work with cars, hopefully have something to occupy her mind, and things would make sense for her.

"Sweetheart, I know you're there. Why don't you pick up and talk to me? I think Sharpay will probably drop by the garage sometime today to check up on you," her mother continued.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. She was approaching forty and people acted like she was a little girl!

"Please call us later, Gabi. We just need to know that you're okay. Well, I'd better go. Your father needs his morning coffee. We love you, darling," she finished quietly before the machine beeped, signalling the end of the message.

They say that things get easier with time. No. Not for Gabriella. For Gabriella, it still sucked.

"How's Gabriella getting on?" Jack asked Troy conversationally.

Jamie rolled his eyes, leaning back on two legs of his chair. "Please! She's slotted in just fine. I think she should have the official title of 'Troy's Personal Rescuer'."

Troy glared at his brother. "It is really not like that. There's nothing going on between us. I just asked her to get a spider from my office. Jamie, we're not even friends. We don't know anything about each other."

"Many would interpret that as you want to be more than friends but you're stubborn as fuck and your stupid fear of women and your ego gets in the way," Jamie exclaimed.

Troy frowned. "Three things. Number one," he began counting on his fingers, "don't swear here. I like my customers to think we're friendly people. Number two, I'm not afraid of women. I just avoid drama. And number three, my ego is fine."

Jack laughed at his two sons. "Troy, calm down. The more riled you get, the more he's going to pester you. Have you not learnt after forty years?"

Troy groaned, throwing his head back. "Please don't say that word. You know I hate being reminded of how old I am."

"Is that a grey hair?" Jamie asked jokingly.

Troy reached out and ruffled his brother's hair. "What about your grey hairs, Old Man?"

Jamie pushed his brother away. "My hair is just fine."

Jack rolled his eyes. "How's Andy about Gabriella?"

Troy shrugged. "They get on really well."

Before he could continue, Gabriella strolled in and threw her bag aside. She instantly began tying her hair up, like she always did. Troy couldn't believe it. She looked awful. Her eyes were red, bags were under her eyes and she looked rather pale.

She stepped closer and fiddled with the bandana around her wrist as she spoke. "What needs doing today?" she whispered.

Troy stepped forward and touched her shoulder, straining to get eye contact. "Brie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she snapped as she shrugged him off. "What needs doing?"

Troy sighed and didn't press the matter. He gestured to his truck that was in the workshop once again. "You can continue fixing that, if you like."

Gabriella nodded and, without another word, got to work.

"Is she okay?" Jamie asked slowly.

Troy glared at him. "How does Sarah live with you?" He turned back to see Gabriella already working on his car. "She's the furthest thing from okay."

"Talk to her," Troy muttered.

"Hell no. She's scaring me," Jamie muttered. "I vote Andy should do it, he's the youngest."

Andy rolled his eyes. "You can't play that card. Not at the minute. You're both wimps. Besides, Dad's the boss, I vote he should do it."

Troy sighed. "This is ridiculous."

Jamie and Andy both looked at the oldest Bolton man. "You've only just realised that?" Andy hissed. "We've been stood here for ten minutes, giving reasons why someone else should be the one to approach her. Just do it, Dad. You're the one closest to her."

"We're not going out," Troy protested.

Jamie and Andy exchanged glances. "Um," Jamie began, "Andy didn't mention anything about going out."

Troy frowned. "Okay. You win." He strode over to his truck and leaned against the driver's door. "Hey, Brie?" he murmured.

"Yeah?" she asked, still working in the engine of the car.

He sighed and walked around to her. Upon impulse, and not really thinking of the consequences, her gripped her shoulder and forced her to face him. "Talk to me."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, you're a really crap liar. Tell me what's wrong. You've been working non-stop, you haven't had lunch, you haven't complained about me at all today, and you're crying," he pointed out.

She quickly wiped her cheeks but then shook her head. "You can't prove that."

He frowned. "Brie, take a break, eat something. I don't know what's wrong."

She suddenly turned to him, her eyes blazing in anger. "Exactly. Nobody knows what's wrong. Nobody can tell me that they know what I'm going through."

He touched her arm. "I could try if you'd tell me."

She snatched her arm from his touch. "Stop it. Stop acting like you care for me. All you care about is making sure that I, the mere woman mechanic, will fix your precious truck properly."

Troy was about to speak again when a blonde and an African American guy strolled in. "Gabriella," the blonde spoke quietly.

With tears in her eyes, Gabriella looked down at the ground. "Troy, these are my best friends: Sharpay and Zeke. Zeke owns Baylor's Bakers round the corner. Shar, Zeke, this is Troy, my boss."

On a normal day, in normal circumstances, it would've been expected of Troy, Sharpay and Zeke to shake hands and to greet each other. However, it wasn't a normal day. So they all settled to nod briefly at each other before turning back to Gabriella who was staring at her left wrist, twisting the bandana around and around.

"We got you some flowers," Sharpay finally offered, breaking the silence. She gestured to the extravagant bunch of tulips in Zeke's arms. "I thought we could visit her together."

Gabriella shook her head. "No thanks. I have a truck to fix."

Troy touched her arm before she could turn away. "Go. My truck can wait until you feel better."

She glared at him. "You don't know me. Maybe I want to fix your truck. Right now, today, I'll do anything if it means I can think about anything else for just two seconds." She turned to Sharpay and Zeke. "Maybe you two should go alone."

Troy sighed. "Brie, why don't you go home?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "And why would I do that? Why would I go home and be by myself? I told you, I'm much happier working with cars and occupying my mind. Leave me alone."

Before any of them could respond, she turned back to Troy's truck. He led Zeke and Sharpay to the doorway and glanced at Gabriella. "What's wrong with her?"

Zeke shook his head slowly. "You can't ask us that. If she wants you to know, she'll tell you. Just let her be for today. She'll be better tomorrow."

Sharpay nodded in agreement. "It's just this one day a year, sadly. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I mean, there are criminals getting away with what they've done but Gabriella feels like this every year. If there is a God, his plan is fucked up."

Zeke placed a hand on Troy's shoulder. "Keep an eye on her, okay?"

Having an addiction is never a nice feeling. Whether it's to a person who is good for you or whether it's to an illegal drug that, despite how good it makes you feel in the moment, will kill you, there is not one human being on the planet who will enjoy feeling that want, that dependence, that incurable need. An addiction is, by definition, the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance or activity. But, it's more than that. It's that voice in the back of your head urging you to do something. And sometimes, you're not strong enough to fight it and you succumb to the addiction.

But, whatever the official definition of 'addiction' was, it didn't matter. Because the only person an addiction affected was the individual. At least, that's what a leaflet had told Gabriella over ten years ago. But, it was lies. That wasn't true. You had to be a selfish bastard to believe that crap. No. Gabriella believed that an addiction affected everybody around that individual. It breaks their heart, it frustrates them, it angers them. An addiction can cause your father, who was always reluctant to show emotion, to weep in your arms.

Gabriella, lying on her settee in her living room, reached for a cushion and pulled it over her face. She knew that there were two possible outcomes to that action: either she'd suffocate and die or the cushion would stop the burning in the back of her throat.

She wasn't suicidal. She didn't want to die. She wanted to forget. But, at the same time, she didn't want to succumb to her addiction. She didn't want to see Greg cry for his daughter again. She didn't want Addie to worry about her. After all, she had enough to worry about. But, she didn't want Troy judging her. Because that's what an addiction causes, isn't it? Judgement. While we live in a naturally judgemental society, it seems even worse when the word 'addiction' is used. If someone's a drug addict, they must want to knife you. If someone's addicted to sex, they must have an STD. If someone's addicted to alcohol...well, then they must be depressed and turn violent when drunk.

Gabriella knew. She'd heard it all before. At least, about the alcohol thing. But, despite her efforts, despite thinking of how much it would break her family's hearts, she couldn't help it. The burning in the back of her throat was too much. She was in a losing battle.

Getting up from the couch in her work clothes, she grabbed her keys, and left her apartment building. She stumbled, mostly, with her vision blurred with tears, to the nearest pub, The Duchess, the one where she met with Troy, Andy and Steph that one time. She sat down on a bar stool and paused. Was it worth it? Were things that bad?

The barman walked over and gave her a friendly smile. "What can I get you, Sweetheart?"

Ignoring his demeaning name for her, she thought, Yes. It was worth it. I'll forget. Things are that bad.

She looked him square in the eye and said, "A pint of lager, please."