Author's Note: Thank you so much for all your reviews guys, I really appreciate them :) I don't know how to reply to them (this site is too complicated for my tiny brain to handle) but every single one made me smile. This is a bit of a filler chapter, but it'll get interesting real soon, I promise, so please stick with it. Sorry for any mistakes, I have no spell-checker on my laptop. Enjoy :)

There are seventeen bruises by the time Naomi wakes up on Monday—gets up, really; her night was restless—and she counts them slowly, with shaky hands and an unsteady heartbeat. Her back is facing the mirror, head twisted round to study the marks; two more have bloomed on the back of her neck, small circles close together, barely touching. The inside of her left arm too, is decorated, the skin near her wrist severely discoloured and very, very tender; Naomi hisses as she prods at the marks, tries to scrub them away. She watches silently as the pressure turns them white, disappearing, before they inevitably darken and scar her once more. Permanent.

Naomi wonders how she hadn't noticed them before, is desperate to know how long she's been like this—damaged—but she's thinking hard and coming up with nothing. She reasons with herself it can't have been too long, or else she would have seen them, or Emily would have; ignores the little voice inside her head that says she doesn't pay much attention to her back, that her and Emily make love when it's dark in her room and they're too wrapped up in each other to notice things like that. Ignores it, because otherwise she fears she'll lose her mind.

Naomi keeps staring, but her reflection doesn't change like she wishes it would. She faces the mirror fully, wearing only her underwear, and gently touches the ruined skin of her stomach, the way Emily had done the day before, when all this started. She swears its grown bigger, blacker, imagines it slowly stretching outwards over the rest of her skin, and infecting. Naomi keeps staring, but her reflection doesn't change.

It screams danger.

Naomi waits for Katie and Emily sitting on the wall at the end of their driveway—she'd rather marry Nick Griffin than deal with Jenna Fitch today—and she hates the way that the thought of smoking a cigarette to pass the time sends a chill through her body, makes her stomach clench and her mind race with words like carcinogen. She's staring at the warnings on her cigarette packet—smoking kills—and her eyes blur for a second; she curses loudly before crushing the pack in her palm and tossing it in the Fitch's dustbin. Fuck, fuck, FUCK—

"Naomi?"

She starts, flicks her eyes upwards, blinking rapidly, to see Emily and Katie wandering towards her, the former looking concerned, the latter giving her a what-the-fuck look. Shit, Naomi thinks, fixing a smile on her face and standing up, praying that the twins hadn't seen too much of her freak out. Emily looks ready to say something, so Naomi pulls her in close and kisses her long and deep, ignoring Katie's predictable sounds of disgust and muttered 'lezza bitch.'

"Hello to you, too," Emily breathes when they finally pull apart, slight blush colouring her cheeks at such a public display of affection in front of her sister, who is currently glaring at Naomi spectacularly. Naomi smiles and winks at Katie simultaneously, watches the now brunette's lips twitch as she supresses a grin in return.

Over the summer, Naomi had spent long afternoons in the Fitch household, when Jenna and Rob were out and James was threatened with extreme violence if he told them Naomi was around. Naomi liked it at Emily's house; it was quiet and clean and pretty and there was no Gina or Kieran to be found; there was, however, one Katie Fitch.

It had been painfully awkward the first time Naomi visited; Naomi was very tempted to tell Katie to just fuck off and leave them alone, but dreaded the hurt look that would surely grace Emily's face, and the subdued look Katie had worn—ever-present since the rock incident—had unnerved Naomi, and she found her heart twinging with sympathy. So she'd suffered through the stilted conversation and uncomfortable silences—had received some mind-blowing sex from Emily as a reward for her troubles—and next time she visited, had brought vodka and spliff. The tentative smile Katie had given her when she was presented with the narcotics had been the start of a shaky yet oddly fitting friendship between the two; Naomi found that Katie was just as if not more sarcastic and cutting than she was, sometimes, and when she wasn't trying to be a cunt, was actually pretty fucking hilarious, and she enjoyed the banter they constantly bombarded each other with, and eventually managed to get along with the brunette—a much better colour on her—completely sober.

Now Katie was pinning Naomi with a look that was half angry, half amused. "Well, if you're quite done tongue-fucking my sister in the middle of the street, Campbell, could we like, actually get to fucking college at some point today?"

Naomi laughs, throws an arm around both of the twins' shoulders. "Sure thing, Katiekins. I'd hate to give you the oppurtunity to hold me accountable for the lack of A levels you're sure to acquire when college ends, when really it's the distraction of gashead football players and constant clothes shopping that's to blame."

Emily bursts out laughing at that, and Katie shoves her arm off, giving her the finger and stalking ahead of them, leopard-print skirt blowing in the wind.

Naomi forgets her troubles for the moment, and finds she can breathe.

Things are much different from last year.

Katie is no longer falling all over herself to be Effy's best friend; Naomi isn't sure what happened between them when Effy came back from wherever she was with Cook, but she assumes they reached an understanding of sorts, that they both majorly fucked up, and they've actually become proper friends. Effy's grown up, too; has stopped fucking everyone around and decided she wants neither Freddie nor Cook, who are both still helplessly in love with her (but pretend they aren't). Cook continues to shag pretty much whoever he can, and he, Freddie and JJ have finally stopped fighting about Effy and are getting along again, which JJ is thrilled about. Naomi still can't look at him for very long, else images of him and Emily in a bed—Naomi tries not to think about it, and mostly ignores the boy. Panda and Thomas have reconciled, and are besotted with each other once more, though Thomas continues to resent Cook enormously; Naomi knows Cook is sorry, can see it in his eyes when he looks at them together, and it surprises her how much they've all grown up.

They are a haphazard heap of bodies on the field, enjoying a brief bout of October sun during the lunch hour. Naomi and Emily are leaning up against a tree, the redhead cuddled into Naomi's side; Naomi is used to this now, public displays of affection, enjoys it even, how she can kiss and touch and hold Emily whenever and wherever she likes without freaking out and hurting her feelings. Emily's skin is warm against her own, and Naomi smiles at this, stroking a hand through her girlfriend's vibrant red locks, prompting a shy smile and a tender kiss from the littlest Fitch twin.

Cook wolf-whistles at them, and they break apart, rolling their eyes, to glare at him. He smirks dirtily, says, "Don't mind me, ladies. As you were."

Naomi just smiles at him and shakes her head, squeezing Emily's hand to calm her, as she's never been too fond of Cook. Even less so, since she found out about his almost shag with HER girlfriend. "We're not here to entertain you, James."

He laughs loudly, scooching closer to them on the grass, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Not even if I ask all nice like?"

Emily frowns and tells him to fuck off, at which he laughs and moves away from them again. "A'ight Red, calm yourself. I'll just have to picture it in my head, won't I?" Cook drags his eyes sleazily across their bodies, exploding with laughter as he looks at Naomi's neck, drawing the rest of the group's attention. The couple glance at each other, bewildered. "Shouldn't be too 'ard, mind, what with all these visuals you're presenting Cookie with," he continues, nodding towards the blonde.

As everyone turns to look at her, Naomi feels her face grow hot. As they start to smirk and laugh, and Emily blushes, she demands, "What?"

Katie gives it away. "Fuck's sake, Em," she says, laughing, "hungry, were you?"

Emily's blush deepens, and Naomi glances down at her neck to see what looks like a hickey printed on her skin. She freezes.

"Shut up, Katie," admonishes her twin, burying her face in Naomi's shoulder. Everyone laughs again, and Naomi tries out a smirk despite the chill in her bones. It stretches her face all wrong, even as she makes an offhand comment about Emily's libido that earns her an elbow in the ribs from the redhead and an extremely gleeful look from Cook.

All the while, her heart rate increases as she panics, her skin prickling with heat, and there's too much air in her chest (she's suffocating). Naomi can feel it – it's not a lovebite, not the result of Emily sucking hard at her skin in a fit of passion; it feels dirty, and she has to dig her fingers into her thigh to stop herself from trying to gouge it from her body. Naomi knows that it she were to touch it, it would really fucking hurt; Naomi tries to keep laughing with the others, even as she feels a memory burning in the back of her mind…

"Wakey wakey, Naomi," Gina called, shaking her two year old daughter out of slumber, smiling as her little girl sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes, flyaway curls messy and tangled. "Morning, sweetheart."

"Mummy!" Naomi sang, jumping up and squeezing Gina's neck with chubby arms, giggling sleepily.

Gina hugged her tightly before turning to find some clean clothes for her daughter, as Naomi bounced away happily on her bed. Then something caught her attention.

"Blue!" She shrieked, stabbing at a spot on her arm with a tiny finger, wincing as it hurt, and Gina spun around in shock at the loud exclamation. "Look Mummy, blue – like smurfs!"

Naomi watched her mum's eyes widen as she noticed the bruise that adorned her porcelain skin, saw her mouth turn downwards and her forehead crease. "Mummy?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. "You 'kay?"

Even as Gina nodded and kissed her arm better, praising her for getting her colours right and striking up a conversation about Papa Smurf, Naomi felt something wriggling in her belly, that feeling she sometimes got when she had a tummy bug and was sick.

Her mummy might be okay. But Naomi thought that maybe she wasn't.

Naomi is pulled from the memory – her earliest – by the eerie sensation of eyes boring holes in her skin, hot like little flames, and she glances upwards and meets irises that are bluer than hers, dark like ocean water and equally as intense. Effy's gaze drops to Naomi's neck before studying her face again, and lines appear between two raised eyebrows (the look brings about a sense of déja vu so powerful Naomi's stomach drops and she struggles to breathe).

There is no fooling Effy.