It had been four days since Zoe had been discharged from hospital, and she hadn't left the house once. Max had given up trying to see her, but when she'd arrived home there had been flowers, identical to the ones he'd given her on the night they first kissed, waiting on her doorstep. She'd pushed past them, left them wilting in the rain. Her sofa had become her prison - she would sit for hours on end thinking about what had happened, about that night and the days that had followed, about Max. She'd listened to his message, one of the few she'd bothered with, to his declarations of love and protection. The battle in her head between desperately needing to be loved and being damaged goods, something no one would want to touch, was at times unbearable. There were moments when all she wanted was his arms around her, his voice in her ear, his lips on her lips. Other times, she would get claustrophobic in her own skin, feel sweaty hands crawling under her clothes and strained panting filled her head until she screamed herself to sleep.

Sometime mid afternoon she heard a knocking on the door. She stayed where she was until it became impossible to ignore, the incessant banging putting her more on edge than she already was. Uneasily, she made her way to the door, her heart racing.

"Zoe? It's Charlie." He opened the letter box, peering inside. She pressed herself against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "Zoe, I'm not leaving this time." He banged on the door again and Zoe sank to the floor, clammy hands forcing her down, wrapping their hands around her neck and Charlie's voice mingled with the whispered threats and climaxing grunts in her head until she screamed and blacked out.

When she came round, she was lying on her bed, the faint but unmistakable smell of coffee and toast filling her nostrils. Charlie appeared at the doorway, carrying mugs and a plate piled high with toast slathered in strawberry jam.

"It's a good thing you're one of those idiots that leave their spare key under the mat." He grinned at her, throwing the key onto the bedside table.

"Hi." Zoe whispered, furious with herself for being so weak, so dependant on others. Charlie sat at the end of the bed, his face the picture of concern and she knew before he opened his mouth what he was doing to say. "No Charlie." She took a piece of toast, shaking her head vehemently. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Zoe, the poor boy's a mess, he just wants to know you're alright." Charlie glanced at her dressing table, where a photo of Max, pouting, took centre stage.

"Well, I'm fine." Zoe replied curtly, but buckled as Charlie turned to look at her, so understanding and concerned that she couldn't hold it in any longer. A sob escaped her lips and after a moment's hesitation Charlie pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as she wept on his shoulder. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be held for comfort, for protection. When they finally broke apart she smiled sheepishly, brushing his damp shirt. "Sorry." He pressed a kiss to her forehead in reply before grabbing a piece of toast and laughing as he gazed around the room.

"The last time I was in here was when I found out about you and Nick." He looked back at her, grinning at her confused expression. "You wouldn't remember, it was years ago and you were very drunk. I had to carry you up here and he was sat on the bed in a towel, waiting for you to come home." Zoe buried her face in her hands, groaning at the thought of it.

"God, you poor man." She lifted her head, smiling for what felt like the first time in years. "Thank you." Charlie held out his hand and pulled her to her feet, shaking his head.

"No problem. Now let's get you sorted out."

Later that evening, the pair sat in the kitchen, half empty bottle of wine on the table and a cigarette dangling from Zoe's fingers.

"I'm going back to work tomorrow." Zoe glanced over at Charlie, at quiet resolve in her voice. She'd been thinking it through all evening and had come to the conclusion that if she was going to get over this, she had to start sooner rather than later.

"Are you sure?" Charlie sounded uneasy. "I've spoken to Connie, she's fine for you to take as much time as you need." He didn't mention the fact that she'd also have to face Max, but he didn't need to. She was terrified that he'd ignore her and she'd be alone again, terrified he wouldn't and that she wouldn't be able to handle his concern, his distress.

"I'm sure Charlie." Her tone was final and Charlie nodded reluctantly as she checked her watch. "Do you want to stay over?"

"That would be great but-" Charlie didn't want to leave her by herself but at the same time didn't want to push her too hard. Zoe interrupted him, her lower lip trembling slightly.

"Please?" He looked at her curled up on the sofa, cradling a glass of wine and sucking the life out of her cigarette, and smiled gently.

"I'll set up the spare room."

I can't apologise enough for how crap I am at updates! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, your reviews make my day so please keep them coming! X