He'd changed in so many ways since the last time Adaline had the displeasure of sharing a room with him that he had become almost unrecognisable. Her composure regained, she glared at him, wanting to spew obscenities in his direction and send him on his merry way. How dare he stand in front of her, sleeves taunt against his muscles in the same way that had sent shivers through her body all those years ago, awkwardly staring at the ground between them? How dare he act coy when he hurt her the way he had? Had treated her as though she were nothing more than a tool at his disposal.

The anger raged inside of her, igniting a hatred she had suppressed. Before she could stop herself, her hand was connecting with his cheek, sending a sharp sting across both their flesh. Pushing him out of her way, Adaline stormed towards the living room. Holding his reddened cheek, Elliot silently walked behind her, avoiding her mother's eye contact.

"I'll let you and Adaline catch up, Dottie. I'll see you tomorrow morning," without waiting for a response, Elliot almost ran from the house.

Adaline watched him fumble with his car keys, dropping them onto the gravel before ducking into a red car and reversing out of the driveway. He'd had a run down blue Corsa the last time she had seen him. She remembered the feel of the faux leather interior on her bare thighs that summer, sweat pooling underneath her as they drove for hours. He'd wanted to get out of 'this god-forsaken village' and have some fun; the kind of fun that changed a girl completely.

Adaline, rebelling after her father's death, had practically jumped at the chance to sneak away for a weekend with the young troublemaker. Her friends had warned her against the idea. Had been sure to share all the gossip they had heard about him from girls he'd spent time with before, but Adaline was convinced she was different, that she could change him in ways no other girl had. She'd been wrong. She'd woken that Sunday morning, alone, with no way to get home, having given him everything. A rushed note had been taped to the wall thanking her for a weekend of fun and nothing more. No goodbye, no point of contact. No care whatsoever for the shame and hurt he'd inflicted. She'd sworn in that moment to never let a man use her again, to do with them as she willed, then leave before they could. To take control of her sex life. Until she met Christopher and her world had spun on its axis.

"Addie, dear, are you listening?"

Adaline jumped. For a split second she had convinced herself she was twenty-three again, putting her bra and underwear on, searching the cabin for her jeans and shoes, desperate to escape the humility of the situation she'd allowed herself to fall into. Clearing her throat, she forced a smile. Dottie's mouth was still moving, but the words weren't clear to Adaline, her focus still not on the here and now. She nodded, hoping her response was appropriate for the topic at hand.

"Perfect. Spaghetti carbonara it is. You go and freshen up, you stink dear, and I'll go make dinner for us,"

Sniffing at her clothes and armpits, Adaline shrugged. She hated to admit it but her mum was right, the smell of body odour was sickening. It had been days since she'd bothered to brush her hair, which now stuck to her scalp, let alone wash. She hadn't seen the need, hadn't been able to drag herself to the bathroom since the funeral. Who did she have to look good for now? Christopher was gone and nothing was going to bring him back.

Her stomach roared at the thought of the food her mother was preparing, a reminder of the garbage she'd fuelled her body with over the weeks. She was an awful cook and so had relied on Christopher to do the cooking each day. With her inability to create anything ever remotely edible that wasn't spaghetti Bolognese, she found it easier to open a web browser and order whatever fast food she fancied in that moment. She was excited to have a fresh, warm meal inside of her. Sprinting to the bathroom, miraculously saving herself from a fall up the stairs, Adaline jumped into the shower.

The warm water felt heavenly against her freezing form, giving feeling back to her toes. She stood there unmoving, allowing the water to cascade over her, desperate for the shame that had surfaced to slip down the drain at her feet. Sliding down the wall, she sat, arms wrapped around her knees, and let herself sob. She cried for Christopher, for her mother, and for her younger self. At the cruel hand life had dealt her.

She wanted to run away, to go somewhere she could start a new with no eyes prying into her past. Where she could be anything more than a young widow with no parents. Where she could pretend Elliot and that weekend had never existed, that she hadn't given her virginity to someone who hadn't cared if she'd get home safe. Adaline yelped and jerked towards the wall as the water became suddenly ice cold, her mother once again forgetting to check before turning on the downstairs tap. Using her toe as a thermometer, Adaline waited until the shower had returned to a humane temperature before submerging herself once more. She had not missed those moments since moving out of the family home. She and her brother had spent many occasions screaming at their mother to turn the tap off. Their mother had spent those times encouraging her children to vacate the bathroom swiftly so they wouldn't be late for school.

Adaline chuckled as a crude sound emitted from the shower gel container before she lathered the soap into her body and rinsed. She imagined the bubbles to be a physical representation of her past, leaving her for good, her sins washing away, leaving nothing but her purity behind. Wishful thinking, she snorted, massaging shampoo into her scalp. When she was finally clean and unable to cry any further, Adaline grabbed the fluffy pink towel from the radiator and stepped a foot onto the soft bathmat in front of the shower. Dried and in her favourite pyjamas, a purple button down, checked set she'd bought herself the Christmas before, Adaline followed the scent of her favourite Italian cuisine, mouth watering and stomach growling in anticipation.

Her mother had laid the table as she always did; glass to the left of the plates, cutlery to the right, a steaming dish of food in the centre, ready for those present to fight over. Adaline piled the pasta onto her plate and almost inhaled the first mouthful. Her mother tutted her, tapping her hand crossly. She hated poor table manners and had been sure to raise her children better than Adaline was currently acting. She hated when children acted as though their parents had never fed them and had consistently reminded Adaline and her brother that it was incredibly rude and hurtful as a parent to witness such savagery at a table.

Mumbling an apology, Adaline slowed the pace, making sure to carefully chew and savour the flavours. Nodding her approval, Dottie continued serving herself before sparking conversation. Dinnertime had always been an occasion when Dottie and her family had shared the events of their day, who they'd spoken to, what they were proud of, what they wanted to achieve the next day. A time to connect as a family with good food at hand. It was rare that Adaline and her brother were present for a meal with Dottie at the same time as one another, their busy schedules making it difficult to find a mutually convenient hour.

She missed it greatly, missed seeing how close her children were. Adaline missed it, too. Before the funeral, it had been months since she'd seen her brother. They'd been so close as children, hiding under makeshift tents, telling scary stories when they should have been in bed. He'd been the ever-protective big brother and had served his role well. He'd cried to Adaline when Christopher had died, apologising for being unable to save her from the pain she was feeling. She'd called him silly and told him there was nothing he could have done, but she understood. She wished she could have saved herself the pain, wished she'd begged Christopher to stay home that day, wished she'd told him of their child, so he'd curl up beside her in a blissful bubble.

But it wasn't possible. They were both forced to accept that and, in doing so, had drifted over the few weeks since his death. Looking at her mum twirling spaghetti onto her fork using a spoon to create the perfect cone, Adaline knew she had to call her brother in the morning. Had to let him know what was happening, convince him to spend some time out of work and with their mother.

"Tomorrow," she whispered before taking another mouthful, ignoring the confused look on her mother's face. "Don't worry mum, just eat."

Nodding her obedience, Dottie ate, and the pair fell into silence, the sound of chewing and forks scraping on porcelain filling the surrounding air. Adaline vowed to make her mother's last days, weeks, months, memorable. To ensure she had her family surrounding her and fresh memories formed each day. To finally let her mother teach her to cook as she had begged for years. Vowed to curl next to her, to fall asleep as her mother brushed her hair like she did when she was a young child. She'd find her mother's favourite movies online for them to watch together, a large bowl of popcorn between the three. But most importantly, she vowed not to let Elliot ruin the last moments she had with her mother. She would be polite, ever the perfect daughter. There would be no small talk. In fact, she wouldn't say more than a simple greeting.

She would not let him ruin what time she had left. Not again.