It was happening again. The attack. The panic. Heart rate quickening. Fear colliding. Trying hard to breath as she lay on the bed wishing for the ground or time to stop; or was it start? He said he was on his way. John was on route. He would be here soon. There were no words needed. He would just hold her until it was over. Like he had so many times before.

  Carey heard as Johns car pulled up. He let himself in to the flat and to her room. Quietly engulfing her world. Safe. She was safe. Eventually time slowed and air rushed to greet her lungs like long lost friends. John felt her breathing return to normal and loosened his comforting hold on her.

  "God, you smell" Carey said half jokingly pushing John away, but not so far that they were completely de-tangeled. "That's what happens when you drag me over here mid-run!". They stayed like that for a long time. The familiar constant in what felt like the river of their lives, pushing and flowing. Never leaving time for stability. This warmth between them was good and pure and true. Perhaps they both needed to feel grounded.

  Soon the conversation started to flow and they talked. About trees and rivers. About the future, and the past, "And, hey! I wonder where that guy from school is." "Definitely a hermit" "Or a billionaire". "He was weird", "he was just a bit odd". "Didn't he ask you out one time". Both carefully avoiding talking about why they were both now lieing in her bed, fully clothed on a Sunday afternoon. They both knew the reason. Neither needed reminding.

  Later when John had gone Carey had eventually made it to the pool - as was the original intention for the day. Being underwater nothing else mattered other than remembering when to surface. Perhaps that was why she loved it so much. Plus after swimming her minimum km she was always knackered.

  When nobody else was in the pool Carey would slowly crawl from one end of the pool to the other underwater, following the lines made by the sun refracting off the glass roof of the pool. The trick was to slow down. Not so much swim as gently pull herself along the bottom at a crawl. Don't concentrate on the lack of breathing. Look at the floor of the pool and feel alive. Wait till the burn in her lungs was akin to screaming and then slowly breath out. It's the need to rid the body of CO2 that causes the pain, not the absence of air. If you move to fast you will use too much oxygen and have to surface before getting to the other end in one go. It focused her brain. Make it from one side of the pool to the other, underwater. It was achievable. Measurable. Mostly. The game gets harder as you go, as muscle start to build up acid.

  Even in winter the outdoor pool felt like an oasis. Shielded from the harsh cold that lay in wait. The air was water thick with moisture, the glass structure acting light a greenhouse. It didn't feel quite real.

  In the changing room Carey caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror for the first time that day. She looked- Pale and tierd. But there was something else there as well. That slight absent gaze partnering the dark circles under her eyes. "...I look damaged" Carey assessed. Was it something people could see? Could she ever look at her face in the mirror and not see it there. Like a neon sign and snugged mascara declaring to the world "I am broken". The rain had moved in on the afternoon as it so often did on quite Sundays and as the storm clouds gathers a memory stirred...

  Carey was crying on the floor. Or she had been. It had been so long since she moved her joints were frozen in place like marble. Her phone lay on the bed ignored for what turned out to be days. John had at some point realised that this wasn't a fight. Carey wasn't ignoring him. That something was very wrong. When he had appeared after having driven for miles to be there he was left standing in stunned silence. Looking down at her broken and bruised form - at the girl who had been so strong and wild, he didn't know what to do. He didn't need to ask what had happened. Thunder passed over the house and awoke in him a mad idea. "Get up". Carey looked at him with bleary eyes completely lost. "Get up". It wasn't a question. So she stood. Unsure of why or where John wanted to go. "Come on". She wasn't sure of anything in that moment but up she got.

  He hadn't touched her- for which she was grateful. At that moment she never wanted to be touched by another human as long as she lived. They walked down to his car, a black Ford Focus, in resolute silence. Or rather she followed in unusual unquestioning obedience. Together they drove towards the heart of a storm that was threatening to beat down trees and disrupt telephone pilons. Never had the weather so accutley matched Carey's mood. They drove until the storm had battered parks and high streets looked like rivers. Their destruction felt like comparative empathy. That the world was as broken and helpless as she felt. The rain will fall if you choose to be outside or not. Perhaps it could even wash her away.

  Staring at her wrinkled feet in the changing room Carey wondered how this had come to be. She was not weak. She. was. Not. Weak. This would not be the defining moment of her story. Perhaps she just needed to learn to ride the nauseating wave of oblivion when it came. John had been right. In his silent endeavour to make her see that the storm would pass. All things will pass. For now Carey had to keep faith that this was true.

  Chapter 2

  AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' started blaring out of Carey's phone. She was tired. She was always tired recently. Looking at the silly face smiling up at her she swiped to answer the call. "What are you doing right now?" John burst, forgoing formalities. "Bring Exhausted and reading up for my assignment". "Exhausted isn't an occupation and don't you read enough for class?" "If I didn't read so much you would never have used the word 'occupation' in that sense just now". They often quibbled about language- or rather the others respective use of it. It wasn't that John was stupid, not by a long way. He was just more black and white. Preferring to be outside living than inside reading. Carey read so vivaciously to find a connection with someone else and to be able know the name for a feeling or experience. John didn't need an experience defined for him. "What are you going to do with a English degree anyway" "Isn't it important to know what we are and how our experiences fit into..." "We ARE" he emphasised the word with a grin whilst also cutting her off. "going out today, I'm nearly at yours." "Do I have a choice" "No". It was an absolute end to the discussion.

  Carey felt a sudden burst of energy and rushed to grab her running gear, knowing that would be the occupation for the day. The only thing she didn't know was where. They had been running together for years. John had needed to get out when he was younger. Carey had never asked questions. John needed to run, so they ran. Through fields and trees, past streams and on. Just knowing the new possibilities for the day made her legs ache and blood pump. She felt alive. In these moments she never felt happier.

  There was something quite comforting in the silence between them. It was always there. It was enough to know the other was there keeping pace and matching breathing. They could read each other and know the path the other would take. If there was a branch to jump or a hill to scramble they didn't need verbal approval. They just conquered it. It was In those moments, Carey hit the magical flow- the world seemed beautiful again. She loved the woods best. When the sunlight streamed through the trees and it was just slightly too warm to run. The sort of day where it seemed the world turned only for her. Just so she could jump over this river bed or decent down the rutted ground as John kept pace beside her.

  Eventually they had both stopped running. It wasn't so much about the distance. They ran until they didn't. As they ambled back towards the car John was very quiet.

  Eventually he was able to be silent no longer. "He was drunk again last night" referring to his step father.

  "He is always drunk".

  "He was really drunk."

  "Are you okay John?"

  "...The situation is not okay. I- I am as okay as you can be, given- you know."

  Sometimes there were no words for the awfulness of a situation. For the repeated disappointment and hurt. Words became meaningless with their repetition. "Maybe she will leave him" "your mum loves you" "this doesn't define you". These were the words Carey had uttered a thousand times. Eventually they stop meaning anything. It becomes almost insulting in the lie.

  "You know John, this whole situation fucking sucks. It really sucks."

  "That's Carey."

  Perhaps in these moments we don't want sympathy. Perhaps we just want validation and recognition of our pain.

  C 3

  Carey was at her Nans house for the weekend. Nana Rose was one of those all encompassing women who would grab you into a hug that made everything better. She lived in sheltered accommodation but was eminently house proud. Her four rooms were immaculate and she was proud of every trinket and cut glass ornament.

  Nanna Rose was helping at fete in the local church and needed a hand with the jams and cakes. Carey could now knock out a Victoria sponge in no time at all- Mary Berry would be proud. Lazy Sundays spent with her nana learning how to bake had paid off. There was something quite magical about learning to bake with a grandparent. They would turn ordinary things into sugary goodies and ensure you have fun along the way. The fete would mean seeing uncles and aunts and cousins. It was a nice throwback to a time before...Carey would pretend everything was ok. It was a welcome change to be around the easy bussel of a cake fair. It could almost be a scene from a BBC drama. Perhaps people came because they no longer had grandparents to make them cakes or make a fuss over their kids. It seemed to Carey there was a need on both sides of the generation gap. After all nobody makes you feel loved in the same way as a grandparent. Even as a small kid if you fell off of a swing they would tell the swing off "you bad swing! What are you doing tipping Carey off like that?" Perhaps as an almost adult it was more nessissary in a world where everything felt so uncertain- like the ground could move underneath without warning. It would be okay with your grandparents. Nana Rose would know what was happening and have a secret plan.

  Later that night -laying on her sofa come bed - whilst on the phone to John they talked about grandparents. Carey only had Nanna Rose left and she knew as good at appearances she was, Nanna Rose missed her husband Gpa Ben immensely.

  "What do you think makes us miss people?" Carey proposed absentmindedly. "What do you mean" "like biologically. Is there a reason, are we in some way interconnected?Like with those sheep in Australia" "What do sheep have to do with missing people? Other than they might make you a nice blanket to cry into" "It's the Quantum Entanglement theory. One day all the sheep in the world started rolling over cattle grids. Sheep don't have phones so the theory goes somehow they knew. The base of the theory states that two interconnected atoms could be miles apart but if one changes the direction of its spin the other changes at the exact same time. " "You don't think it's a coincidence that maybe people haven't realised sheep could do this" "Maybe, but here's my expansion on this theory. What if - when you spend a lot of time with someone, especially if you love them, your atoms could get tangled up. And then if you suddenly don't see them anymore, you feel their atoms rotating and that's why you miss them. Or if like Nanna Rose, you lose the love of your life you suddenly have partnerless atoms"

  "I think you miss people because you cared about them." "But why do we care about some people and not others, maybe we are not compatible on an atomic level" "Maybe you should spend less time thinking about why you miss someone and more on getting out and seeing people. Speaking of I want you to meet someone" "you just don't like the idea our atoms are all intertwined. And oh yeah, whose this?" "It's a surprise".

  A surprise. He meant, of course, a girl. That was good. Carey was happy for John. He deserved someone nice. After they hung up she went downstairs to watch David Dickerson prance about declaring things to be as cheap as chips. Nanna asked if that nice boy John had been round much. Carey had a sudden feeling like perhaps he wouldn't be round so much anymore.

  Carey felt Nanna Rose staring at her when she should have been watching Bargin Hunt. "You know, Carey. You are carrying something bundeled up inside you. It won't do." "It's find Nanna. I'm fine" Shocked by this sudden profession from her Nanna, perhaps she wasn't as good at pretending as she thought. She was fine though right? "Whatever it is, I love you. People care. This isn't a battle you have to fight alone... I heard you crying last night." She has been crying. Whenever she tried to sleep it came over in a wave and all the feelings of guilt and shame came flooding back- what if it HAD been her fault? "I just dont know how to make it better" Carey whispered into the space between them. "You don't have to make it better. You just don't let it destroy you. Whatever it is." "How do you stop feeling so helpless?" "You get up. You fight." Perhaps survival isn't instinct. Perhaps it was the internal flame. The fight and fire of her divine spark. Carey wasn't sure she had the energy in her to get up for around round in the ring yet. Nana Rose saw the doubt in her once firey grand daughter. "If you don't want to talk to me that's okay, but I will say this. If you talk to someone else you would find your not alone in whatever pain your in. That might not sound reassuring. But perhaps they can help you find the way out of this darkness."

  Chapter -

  Carey hadn't seen John for months. On the radio an old song started to play. It reminded her even more of times gone by. She missed the sense of home that had been there. She missed the sense of belonging and how John had made her feel. Even when things were bad they had had each other.

  Three years earlier John had shown up on her doorstep with a black eye and a proud defiance. His face was as grey as the dirty walls in his parents house. Paper limply hanging onto the walls and only held there by smoke. The two bed terraced house had thin walls. So thin they allowed you to hear even the faintest whimper through the plasterboard. Not that his mothers cries were ever faint. Her screams penetrated and permitted through his dreams. The carpets were faded and torn. Unloved and wantonly in need of attention- much like John.

  His father drank. And when he drank he got mean. It unleashed a certain cruelness that was only usually witnessed with mobs who would tell you their victim had deserved their punishment. Even that they had been the cause. John had once again tried to protect his mother. The thing neither John nore Carey could understand was why she stayed. Janet had always seemed so desperately unhappy. Almost as if the world was lost to her. And again and again she forgave the bruises and hurt. Was it the remberence of young love, was she scared to leave or did she just no longer believe she deserved better in life. Janet was a disappointment to John. Shouldn't she have been stronger. Cast aside this abomination of a man to look after her children, whom she loves... right? Janet loves John? It was always a question and never a certainty.

  John on many occasions had raged against the universe demanding to know the answers to all these questions. Why she begged to be saved and when salvation came ran back to the cage she knew. Perhaps it was a form of Stockholm Syndrome. Yet Janet kept preaching, maybe this time he would change. This time he would stop drinking- and he was really sorry. Everything was going to be better. "how can she believe this every time? Does she actually believe this man will change!?" Carey thought for a moment and remembers something she had read a few years before "maybe she just can't accept anything more. Perhaps she doesn't believe she deserves happiness. Like in 'perks of being a wallflower'- remember we read it in English?" John had been angered by this. He wished Carey wouldn't always look for answers in books. This was his pain. His. People might have had similar pain, but this hurt was unique to him! Didn't his mother love him - or at least love him more than she loved a man who was drowning with no intention of being saved. It was heartbreaking to bear witness to. Just because the problem was common did not make it easier or bring him comfort. It felt private and secret. He always wondered if perhaps there was something lacking in himself that meant his mother hadn't chosen him. Chosen to live for him.

  Thinking back now Carey saw parallels in their situation. Yes it was a common offence she had suffered. Did that make it easier? Did the shame and humiliation she had felt subside from knowing she was not alone? Or did it just make her more enraged to know this sort of thing happened everyday. Perhaps the only truth in the commonality of such events is that it is never the victims fault. There is no mystical element missing from their matrix. The sad truth was, these things happened because someone wanted it to, and their forceful actualisation tears at the foundations of our innocents. Our parents cannot keep us safe from these boogeyman. There are things worse than the darkness and usually it's the monsters that live there.

  Does that mean we are broken? Does the exposure to such evils mean we will never know love or happiness? Carey could not accept this idea. That she would be broken forever -because she was too scared to fight. Perhaps the truth was, whilst this would never leave her, it also didn't have to permanently consume and define her too. For the first time in almost a year Carey felt fire within her once more. She felt the determination to carry on. She was ready to fight for this life.

  Chapter

  Back at Nanna Rose's house Carey was very quiet. She was thinking about what had happened earlier. About her freak out. Okay maybe she wasn't healed.

  Fuck.

  Would she always have days like this? Days where it was all so overwhelming and things that would normally be fine were not. Like a duck that had forgotten how to float, she was drowning.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Talk. Carey- what happened. Just start somewhere"

  Talk. Her voice was caught in her throat and if she gasped for air all that would follow would be incomprehensible blubbering.

  "Stop. Breath. Take the time you need. I'm here. I'm listening. "

  Listening, how often do people really listen and could Carey find the words to be heard?

  "I was shopping. I was shopping and I just couldn't find anything. Everything, everything had meaning. This skirt was too short, the trousers make me look repressed. The blue ruffled top was too low. How are we supposed to represent ourselves. I'm so ugly. God. And I don't want to look like I'm advertising anything but I don't want to look damaged."

  Slow. Your babbling.

  "In class. In class a guy made a joke about me eating a pair. He said I had a nice pair. Later he touched my side. Why did he touch my side? I didn't want him to. When I reacted badly he made a joke about being a prude."

  "That guy is a jerk. What is it they call it nowadays. Nagging, netting?"

  "Negging"

  "In my day we called it being an asshole.

  Carey laughed.

  "Seriously Carey. Screw that guy. He has no right to make comments like that about you. And to then to make you feel bad for not welcoming his cruddy behaviour? As for your clothes. If you need to cover up for a while - cover up. Wear what makes you happy. If you spend your whole life thinking what other people might think you won't do anything."

  Like a warm blanket on a cold night, Nanna Rose brought safety in her words. In her tight squeezes of all encompassing hugs lay the reassuring beat of home. Nothing was as grounding as a hug from Nanna Rose.

  "That's the thing Nanna- no clothes make me happy. Choosing them makes me anxious. I just want to disappear into my own skin." Nanna Rose hugged Carey. Got her a blanket and let her be invisible to background noise of David Dickensons dulset tones.

  A text case through from John

  "Reginald is a fucking asshat Carey." John was responding to the mumbled voicemail he had received earlier.

  "Today I feel dirty and used because someone else wanted me to feel that way- do guys know what they are doing?"

  "Maybe, some of them are smart enough to have seen a 'how to guide' on YouTube for how to be an asshat. Most are just dumb enough to believe the world owes them a girlfriend. They really believe you are dumb for not being amazed at their asshattery."

  "Niceguys"

  "Niceguys who are in no way nice. I can only apologise on behalf of my sex"

  "It's not okay John. To neg someone into being with you because you don't believe you are worth more. It's emotional abuse. They make us believe we deserve it."

  There was a "..." and then nothing.

  "Perhaps today I just can't deal with it. I'm sorry. It's not you"

  Chapter

  Perhaps after all the pain both John and Carey had been through what they both needed was to heard. To have somebody- anybody really- listen to them. Really listen. To know and understand the pain they felt. There are no words to sooth the broken feeling that resides within them.

  Carey thought about their last conversation and how John had been so angry at her for always being stuck inside her head. Always a thousand miles from where they were. Right now she was thinking about how everyone in college had assumed they would end up together. Like some romantic novel. Whenever they fought it was just written off as a lovers quarrel. It did match up with all those ideals of love. In the old Romantic fictions of younder year. Heathcliff had been firey and possessive. Rochester was aluff and moody. Even Darcy was brooding and absent. Was that what she was supposed to want? Someone who was always so very hard to read, who only she could save. Should people need saving? No,she didn't love John in that way. She had wanted more. He is too quick to anger and quick to judge. But he had been there. A good and solid friend.

  The strangest thing about John being gone was how capable Carey was of carrying on. Now she thought back on it perhaps they had been friends only out of convenience?There were often times when Carey would be ashamed of some aspect of her being - because John had disapproved. Or when she had not spoken of things that interested her because John would not be interested. In his absence Carey had felt stronger.

  Now the only shame she felt was for that night. That awful drunken night. Carey could rise above the broken home, the bullying at school, the isolation. The truth was she never cared for any of those opinions that had been forced on her. It just seemed like something she had to get through.

  But that night had made her feel dirty and broken and worthless. And why go to the police when some absurd figure like 6% of crimes committed get convicted. And she was drunk. So in some people's eyes (some very, very stupid people) she was culpable. Every inch of her body felt anger and desperation all burn to her core. Her bones ached and flooded with shame. Who could love her now? Who would want her now. Logically Carey knew that if 1 in 3 women experience "this sort of thing" then lots of men (and women) could love such a wretched soul as hers... Sometimes logic is the farthest thing from comfort. Bear facts are not warm and comforting. It's the friend standing over you telling you to get up. This is life. Do you think this has never happened before?

  - But it had never happened to *her* before. And repeat exposure to the experience was not likely to dull the pain. Just because an experience is common does not take away the horror or make it comforting. It did however make Carey think that romance needs to be redefined. It's not these fuck boys on the dating apps who ghost girls. It's not Christin Gray. Maybe it's the guy who can see past her scars and love her all the same. Either way, Carey had made a decision to be the heroine of her own story. Be the saviour of her own soul.

  Ch

  Carey was graduating soon. None of it felt real. What would having a degree really mean? It was another definition to add to her matrix. Carey Jenkins. 21, athletic, mousy hair, likes books, has degree. It sounded like a dating profile. Was that all there was to judge of her? The problem, Carey realised, was her past. If people knew it they could judge her on it. So the logical thing to do would be to move where nobody knew her. She could start again. Go through a foreign film phase, only smoking pink cigarettes from France, or become really interested in gin production. Any of these transformations could help define herself. So, opening her laptop, Carey started planning.

  As is the way of things - just as we have the courage to make a change, another comes out of the blue. The kind that takes the breath out of your lungs and the confidence from your step. Carey knew something was wrong. She hadn't slept. There was a deep unwelcome pressure on her chest. When the phone rang she didn't need to hear the words "grandma Rose is in hospital. Come quick". The heavy silence before, the slow breath out. Sometimes the things that connect us scream out in agony negating the unpolished and crude words, leaving only truth. Carey grabbed her bag and was out the door before her phone had removed the caller ID from the screen and returned to the green of her home screen.

  At the hospital Grandma Rose lay in the hospital bed. The smell of death was creeping in. She smiled a weak smile when Carey walked in. It was a matter of when. Staring at an uncompromising end and not knowing how the world would keep turning without Grandma Rose, the world seemed too unfair today. The pillar of strength that is a Grandmas love is always removed too soon. Leaving an uneasy void.

  In the morning the hospital room was cold and still smelled of bleach. Carey stared at the body of her grandmother. Something inate told her that the flesh and bone laying on the bed was not all that had been her grandmother. Something had left and In doing so had taken the last of the childhood comforts with it. Finding herself with nowhere to go and being requested to vacate the room Carey found herself in the small grey nondescript room that functioned as a multi faith room. Not that Carey much cared for such things but for now it offered the silence she craved.

  Ch

  Funerals are odd, things. They feel confining and restrictive. How can an entire life be defined by a small turn out, a few words and a song. In the end, someone who existed in every fibre of us is no more. The grandparent who lit us with fire and drive and belief is gone. It felt like the ground had shifted and something that was always supposed to be there suddenly wasn't. And how was Carey supposed to make it through this new day in what felt like an alternate universe. It was alternate. The place that she called home, her earth, her shelter had gone. No matter how far away she had traveled it was okay, because Nanna Rose had been there. Like True North always guiding her home. A stead fast light in the darkness.

  What universal constant was there? Money could be there and gone in a moment. Love can be wasted away, people day by day letting their relationships die. The wind gently tickled Carey's face and hair bringing her back to the present. The wind was a constant. It felt comforting. It was like a reminder to carry on. That this wind would fill her lungs as sails and drive on.

  Looking in at the cold lifeless room, Carey remembered to breath and went in to the musty church hall. The one whose yellow curtains had not been changed in forever. She drank the Luke warm tea and ate stale biscuits. Not because she liked them, but because these people had known her Nanna. And right now, they were the closest she would ever get to seeing her again.

  After the funeral was over Carey thought about duty. What we do for duty and how, perhaps sometimes it held us back. She sat by the river she had walked along with Nana Rose in the morning and raged along with John. The sun was setting, and the light was entirely different from when it rose in the same spot. The air felt heavy and tainted. In the mornings it always looks joyful, light and hopeful. If Carey had been religious perhaps she would have noted this as a religious experience. Where everything felt right and she sat in deep unmoving contemplation. Time past almost without touching her. In that moment she existed across all time and space and the moment was last forever- forever and never. It was overwhelming and beautiful and painful. But pain the kind of way when your muscles ache from use. It felt like an awakening after so long of being crushed by a weight of some unnamed oppressive force. Carey rose. She rose with such determination and presence, it felt like a butterfly finally ready to emerge into the world. Fly Carey, fly.

  Five years later

  John is rushing through the airport in Dubai hoping to make the connection to Gatwick before the gate closed. All of a sudden he saw her. Or he thought he did. No it had to be. Five years and she still looked exactly as she had. Like time had forgotten about her. But there was something different. A sort of self determination rooted somewhere deep. She looked good. She looked really ... happy.

  "Carey!? Carey, my god!". Carey - who was engrossed in a book looked up confused as though emerging from a dream. "John? John!" As a huge smile erupted into her face. He two flung themselves together like two separated ends of a magnet. "I can't believe it's you" they both said in unison "God I've missed you" Carey blurted out before she could stop herself. "I missed you too" John smiled. "But what about your flight?" "Fuck the flight Carey, this is you and me. Remember how that time you said about missing someone and it being your atoms rotating" "you were listening to that?" "Of course. I don't know where you get these ideas from but you are right. Maybe we are just here because we missed each other too much and didn't know how to cross the void". "From the monosalybiic man no less". Carey laughed. She couldn't remember John forming this much of a sentence about anything much less *feelings*.

  "No, come on. You have a flight. I'm not going anywhere, John. Let's meet up when we get back. Let's start again". "Are you sure? I don't want to lose you again" "you will never lost me, John. We can fall in love and marry other people. But we will never lose ourselves." "No. No I spose not. Okay. I have to run. I'll catch you in back in the UK. Your heading home? Here. Here is my number and my email" he said writing on her ticket. "Call me. Please". There was a pleading in his eyes that didn't make it through to his voice. He looked right through her for just a second as though reaching for a home that had once been there and then ran to catch the gate before closing. Carey slumped into the hard chair and felt as though a hurricane had passed over her. For the first time in quite a few minutes Carey breathed and her lungs thanked her, almost as though hugging her at the experience.

  Ch

  It's amazing how much time people spend in silence. Because they don't know what to say. Because they are scared to vocalise the feelings swilling around inside them. Carey was sitting very still wondering how or if to answer the question John had just asked. Did she ever think about it? How did she move past the desperation and the loneliness and worthlessness.

  She thought about it. She thought about if she met the guy in the street, in some happenstance. Mostly she thought about it when running. She thought about beating the crap out of him. She didn't think about the unequal body mass or the fact that she had never thrown a punch. In those moments Carey was sure her rage would carry her through. All of it, all her rage went into the road. She ran faster and better than she had before. Would it make her less if she admitted it. "Yes. Yes I do." "I think about it too. I think about how I left you to battle it alone" "You are not obligated to carry anyone else but yourself John." "Maybe. But you were there for me. And before you ask- I think about my home life. I think about beating on my step dad who drank and I think about screaming at my mum for staying. I could scream." "I don't think we are defined by what has happened to us. Not unless we let it. I refuse to let it be. Do we roll over and accept our status as broken forever? That the love we didn't get from our parents means we are not worth loving. No. Am I completely 100% okay with what happened? No. It fucking sucks. Does something completely random bring up those feelings of hopelessness and scars being torn open, yes. But it passes. We have to be the heroes of our own lives John." "But you don't see your family, Carey, you walked away." "Yes. Because they will never see me as anything more than the person I was in the darkness. And it forces me to see their reflection. It's heartbreaking but I can't let myself be defined by their interpretations. I have to stand on my own." "It's awful you know. It's heart wrenching and not-enough-words-horrifying watching someone you love destroy themselves. It breaks you down in a way that steals the breath from your lungs. And all you can do is watch." "I'm so sorry that happened to you John. I can't imagine what it was like. You were strong for so long" "and then I wasn't. I thought the girl, what was her name? I thought she could help me raise above, not my station, but my then position. I thought by being with her they would see me as a better man." "If they don't see you as a good man now John, they never will". "I'm sorry, by the way. For allowing my insecurities to get in between us. For letting my need for validation push you away" "it's happens. It was hard. It really sucked. But it was what you need to do.... our drinks are dry. I'm exhausted." John breathed in the silence this time. "Carey- you look a thousand miles away

  Ch

  Carey was a thousand miles away. She was thinking about Kai. The way, when he looked at her she stopped breathing and how when they laughed together nothing else in the world mattered. It was that feeling in your stomach that puts you off your food because you could live off that euphoria. Of course nothing had happened. A few shared meals here and there in the work Canteen. It wouldn't be fair to Kai to start anything. Carey didn't know IF she could have a romantic relationship. It never seemed fair and she hadn't met anyone that had awoken these feelings in her previously. Every time she thought about sex she felt dirty and used. Any inkling of sexuality brought shame. Carey had tried having flings in the past but had never felt anything close to what people describe. Perhaps it was all a lie people told themselves. Until now. Until Kai. He excited her. She had found herself thinking about him and thinking about him was thrilling. It was just a crush. It would pass.

  "Carey?" John looked deep into her eyes grounding Carey back to reality.

  "Sorry. I was thinking about relationships. About how mostly we fall for the idea of a person. When you think about someone you never imagine them to have a past. To have some deep overriding darkness within them. You just imagine them to be a really good cook or super funny. You think about their great smile" At this Carey was smiling and John knew she was talking about someone in particular and his interest peaked. Carey continued, a small line of confusion appearing on her forehead by her right eyebrow "How do you let someone in? It's so invasive. How do you know the person will still like you when they discover all your strange little foibles never mind ... you know.. something so consuming."

  John smiled. "Carey. Stop talking in metaphors. Tell me about the guy".

  "What guy?"

  "The guy that makes you smile like it's a secret. The guy who has you wondering if he could make you forget about your pain"

  "He does make me forget about everything. I feel alive somewhere deep. I haven't felt this electric in years. It's inescapable and silly. He is just being polite about my crush. We brushed hands the other day when he made me a tea and I felt a pulse run up my arm- is that normal?"

  "Who wants normal!? And regarding the bit about imaging people- perhaps when we first meet people we imagine them to be one thing or another. But the good stuff, the really good stuff is the bits you never imagined. The strange couple culture you build together. Your own private language that encases you both." John seemed impassioned and continued "you are now not being fair to your fellow man, do you not imagine them as complex and fragile things as you. With their own passions, their own oddities, their own battle scars. We are all broken things. No one gets out alive"

  "Ha." Carey was stumped

  "Vanity alone allows you to think that you are irredeemable- that your tragedy is greater and more lonesome than the next person. This is a sickness"

  "You are right, John. Logically you are right. The past has blinkered me to my own plight. I know that my own personal tragedy is less than others yet cannot believe myself worthy of - not even loving- of taking up someone else's time. It's too scary a possibility. What if they ask questions and open up the scars that still lay there?"

  "It could be cathartic, to have someone hear what you have to say, to really listen and not to judge or see you as less than before- but to see you a greater, as stronger and more beautiful for experiencing such tragedy. It's how I see you. I see you as one of the strongest people. As one of the bravest for now wanting to try again. Of allowing the possibility of hurt."

  Carey paused, bewildered by Johns words and considering her own carefully.

  "It's so scary. This thing is so consuming and paralysing in its entirety, only when I think about it separately. The uncertainty of it all allows for doubt that I do not feel in the moment"

  "Don't think. Just feel. You have come back from worst than this. Jump, Carey."

  Discarding the possibility of being restrained by inaction and fear Carey smiled and felt a warmth spread through her in a way that had been lacking for a long time. Carey realised she was whole again.

  Chapter

  Carey and John continued to meet up for coffee over the coming months building old bridges strong again. It became routine. One day Carey didn't show.

  A text message revelled

  "Sorry bad day"

  It wasn't just a bad day. It was a depressed day. It was so frustrating for Carey how she thought she was fine. Could think she was fine for months and then suddenly - she wasn't. The crashing realisation that you are not find was always a disappointment.

  "What's up?" John replied ever eager to fix broken things.

  "Sex."

  "Is the sex bad?" Kai and Carey had been going well, he thought. He seemed like a good guy. A little too sure of himself but otherwise.

  "The sex isn't bad. I just can't have sex. There is all this pressure to have sex and sometimes I just can't."

  Texting was good. John couldn't see the tears. Carey wasn't sure her voice would hold to speak. In her throat her voice box was throbbing with pressure willing her to release the words waiting there.

  Every muscle in Carey's body was tense. The sex wasn't bad. The sex was good. Just right now sex felt impossible. She was drawn in and bruised. There was no reason. Sometimes she just couldn't.

  "How do you say to someone 'I can't have sex with you today because I feel broken, maybe tomorrow but probably not' or that classic - it's not you it's me. It is me John. It is. I think I'm fine. For months - and then I'm just not".

  "Does Kai pressure you into it?"

  "No. But we are in a relationship. People have sex in relationships. Who would want to stay with someone who will randomly not want sex for extended periods of time. I blame the romantics."

  "The romantics?"

  "Romantic love is a very new concept. Most of the romantics just swanned about writing poetry in gardens drinking champagne. They didn't write about sustained relationships. They wrote about the moments before you discover someone and the journey of excitement. They didn't write about the reality of long term relationships. So people have these unrealistic expectations of what it should be"

  "Carey, you cannot blame the romantics for you feeling like you have to have sex".

  John watched the "dot dot dot" start and stop on his phone serval times.

  "I just don't want to lose this because I'm broken"

  "We are all broken. Talk to Kai"

  "I just feel like silence is this straight jacket constraining me. It's a prison... Don't you think also it's unfair that one man has to bear the punishment for another's sins. This is the lasting impact of one mans crime and now Kai has to deal with the fall out. How is that fair."

  "It's a trade Carey. You accept all of his baggage as well."

  "My baggage is heavier"

  "It's not a competition"

  Carey thought about it. She wanted to explain to Kai but she also didn't want him to see her ugly side in case it was too repulsive, to large a burden to take on.

  "If you don't talk to him and tell him the truth he will just think something else is wrong and then you could lose him regardless."

  "Damn it." Carey types as she dialled Kai's number.

  Chapter

  Kai had understood and had suggested that when she felt better they go away for a while. Get away from it all. So here they were in sunny Mallorca. Holidaying.

  They had visited the little tapas shops. Drink more cocktails than was strictly required. Kai was asleep on a sun lounger in the mid afternoon sun. Carey was feeling free.

  The sea before them was crystal clear. Warm and inviting. Perfect for a strong swimmer. Carey jumped in off of a little rocky alcove. The water was amazing against her skin. She was engulfed and her skin was hyper aware of the cooling water around her. It was bliss.

  Carey loved the ocean. It has an ethereal quality to it. Its untameable nature. You were only ever the seas mistress. If you enjoyed good weather it was because the sea allowed it. It could just as easily destroy you. That was what made it exciting. When you swim slightly to far and suddenly feel the temperature drop and the floor give way, the danger become a realisation. It's thrilling.

  It was this thrill that pushed Carey on. She swam further out. Testing herself. How far could she go. How far did she dare?

  On and on. And harder. Come on. You can do it. Keep going. Keep going. Harder. Push.

  The internal monologue egging her on

  Don't be weak. You can do more. Push. Just a bit further.

  Eventually she stopped. Lay back and floated on the top feeling infinite.

  Time past but she didn't notice. The day drew on and storm clouds began to gather. The waves started to pick up. Almost like an unhappy host sub tally hinting that she had outstayed her welcome.

  All of a sudden Carey was in the heart of a storm. The waves pulled her under and down. Round and round. Thrashing this way and that. Gasping for breath when she briefly surfaced.

  Pushed under again unable to surface a sudden calm came over Carey. She could end this now. All she would have to do is inhale. All the pain and suffering, all the paralysing fear would end in one breath. In that moment she was perfectly focused.

  A beat passed. The need to exhale was increasing. No. She wouldn't fade away. She hadn't come this far to give up now. With a new resolution, and knowing she would never go back to who she was Carey kicked hard. And she kept kicking till she surfaced. The breath that rushed to her lungs was welcome and enough to allow her to start body surfing to the shore. Perhaps she would never be the shiny perfect person she aspired to be. There would be bad days. Today, Carey choose to swim.