Adaline stood in the steaming shower, letting the water cascade over her until her hands were warm enough for her fingers to comfortably bend. Reaching for the pink loofah, she squeezes lavender body wash onto the material. The crude sound it emits lets her know it needs replacing, and soon.

Adding shower gel to her ever growing mental shopping list, she lathers the soap into her body. The water runs brown beneath her feet. A mixture of dirt and hair dye consistently applied to hide potential grey hairs she had convinced herself were forming. Letting out a low moan as the water violently hits her breasts, she massages shampoo onto her scalp. The tension dissipates, leaving a freshness she was grateful for.

A muffled voice sounds from the hallway, but she's not phased. She had locked the door behind her so she'd be able to enjoy some much needed privacy. She'd definitely locked it, she was almost certain. Blinded by water and suds, Adaline reached a hand out of the shower, struggling to find the lock on the door to ease her doubts. Something soft brushed her fingertips. Pulling her hand back, Adaline wiped her face.

"What the hell?" she barked, half spluttering on the water as she covered her body with her arms.

Elliot looked back at her, a wry grin on his face. Pulling his shirt over his head, he stepped forward, entering the shower behind her. His trousers became instantly soaked, droplets beading off his belt.

Adaline couldn't help but stare at his muscular abdomen as a steady stream of water followed down the v-line leading into his underwear. In one swift movement, he flipped her around. Warmth filled her cheeks, face squished against the wall, water running down her back.

His lips brushed her skin, teeth nibbled her neck. She moaned despite herself, felt her nipples harden as his hand stroked upwards. Cupping her breast, he began to gently tease the alert buds. He knelt, moving her legs apart before kissing her inner thigh.

He turned her once more, lifting a leg so it balanced on his shoulder. His tongue easily found her clitoris. She buckled beneath him, almost falling as his head bobbed under her hands. Fingers entered her, winning another moan as she lowered herself towards the pleasure.

She wanted him. All of him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but it awarded only soft gasps. She shook as she climaxed around his fingers. Looking up, Elliot smiled and sucked each of his fingers, groaning slightly at the taste of her. She whimpered as he stood, her body begging for his touch again.

His lips crushed hers. Her mouth willingly parted, allowing his tongue to dive in and explore, to desperately cling to her own. He moaned, pulling her further into him. Wrapping her arms around his head, she pulled him away by his hair. A fire burned in his eyes at the sharp pain. Something primal she'd never seen before.

"Take me," she begged, barely a whisper.

Kissing her roughly, Elliot fumbled with the buckle of his belt. This is really happening. Torn between lust and guilt, Adaline halted. Could she really do this? Make love to someone so soon? As Elliot pulled down his trousers, his large manhood standing at attention, a loud knock on the door startled Adaline.

"Are you going to be much longer?" Elliot's voice rang through the closed door.

Adaline's eyes burst open. What the? The water, now freezing cold, splashed against her shin. Adaline was still sitting in the shower, back against the wall, skin on her fingertips puckered up. Elliot wasn't in the room, never was. Confusion made way for realisation. It was a dream! Thank God!

"Er, give me a minute!"

Turning the taps off, Adaline stepped onto the soft pink bath mat -everything in the house seemed to be pink - something her father had protested against when he was alive - and patted herself dry. Thank God I brought my pyjamas in here with me.

The thought of having to pass Elliot in just a towel was a situation she didn't want to consider, especially after where her mind had just taken her. Pulling her leg into the soft, pale grey loungewear bottoms, Adaline listened to the soft padding as Elliot descended down the hall.

Matching long sleeved top now on, Adaline slipped her feet in the slippers, mopped the floor with her discarded towel and tossed it into the laundry basket. Once out and into the safety of the spare bedroom, she called out, letting Elliot know the bathroom was vacant before closing and locking the door behind her. Letting out a deep breath, she slipped back into bed, exhaustion suddenly hitting her. She was unsure whether it was the cold or her thoughts that had drained her so much, but keeping her eyes open was ten-minute proving difficult. I'll just have a ten-minute nap, she told herself, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Just ten minutes.

Pinks and oranges streaked the sky when Adaline opened her eyes. So much for ten minutes, she moaned to herself. Her stomach growled, sending shooting pains throughout her abdomen.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pulled the cover back and stepped off, fumbling with her feet until they found the warmth of the slippers. A yawn escaped her as she stretched life back into her limbs.

The smell of her mother's beef stew wandered up the stairs, teasing her. Growing up, she'd loved winter for the variety of smells and tastes it brought with it. She had tried and failed many times to recreate her mother's dish. Christopher had got close a few times, but he too had failed to replicate it exactly. Not that his wasn't a delicious substitute mind, especially with his fresh home made crusty rolls. What she'd give to have just one more meal with him.

Not able to withstand the hunger any longer, Adaline almost sprinted to the kitchen to find her mother alone hunched over a bowl of steaming food. On the side was a bowl waiting for her, crusty rolls to the side. Adaline almost danced with excitement as she sat beside her mother and shoveled the food into her mouth.

"Careful sleepyhead, you'll choke," her mother said, not raising her eyes from her own dinner.

Adaline chuckled and saluted before slowing down her pace. The pair sat in almost silence as they enjoyed the hearty meal. Using the roll to mop up the gravy, Adaline thanked her mother. She'd missed the company of the older woman, the comfortable silences they could share.

Her mother grunted, mirroring her daughter's movements. A lump formed in Adaline's throat at her mother's lack of willingness to communicate. She knew Dottie wasn't pleased about the events of that day, but had hoped by now she would have calmed enough for the pair to discuss everything. To clear the air and make up.

"Look, mum, I'm sorry about this morning. It was nothing, honestly," Adaline's eyes pleaded with her mother.

Dottie's face softened as she pulled her daughter closer so that Adaline's head rested on her shoulders. Kissing Adaline's forehead and stroking her still damp hair, Dottie sighed.

"It's not that I don't want you to be happy. I just don't want you to rush into something and end up even more hurt than you already are darling,"

Adaline could understand that, could see the concerns her mother had. She didn't want to rush anything either. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. She'd refused to allow herself grieving time, burying her head in the sand whenever someone asked how she was coping or someone tried to mention her husband. Reality wasn't easy to accept, to recognize she was alone and the person she loved was truly gone forever.

She wasn't a believer of the afterlife. When you were dead, that was it. A bleak belief, but hers nonetheless. So she didn't have the comfort of believing she'd reunite with her lost loved ones when it was her time to depart from the world.

Christopher was gone, and there was nothing more to it. Before she realised what was happening, Adaline had let out an inhuman wail before sobbing hysterically into her mother.

"It hurts mum. It really hurts. Make it stop. Please. Just make it stop."

Dottie held her daughter close, shushing as she continued to stroke her hair. Her chest hurt as her daughter truly let out the raw pain and anguish for the first time since Christopher's death. Adaline's body shuddered beneath her mother's arms. She struggled for breath as the tears increased.

Dottie wished she could take the pain for herself, that she could save her daughter from a lifetime of hurt. She hated her role as a mother in moments like this, when she couldn't fix things with magic kisses or a chocolate bar.

It reminded her of when her children were five and seven respectfully. They'd found their pet rabbit cold and stiff, dead in its cage. They'd been hysterical just as Adaline was now, neither understanding why their parents couldn't just make the rabbit better. Why they had to congregate in the garden. Why their father had to dig a hole for their mother to bury the rabbit in an old shoe box.

They'd sobbed for days, Adaline taking it the hardest. Dottie had cried herself to sleep, feeling utterly helpless in the situation. She felt so much worse now. A rabbit dying was one thing. Someone you spent the better part of your life with was something else entirely.

"I know baby, I know." She continued to hold her daughter, her own tears now falling.

If Richard had still been alive, he'd have known what to do in this situation. He always did, she told herself.

"The thing is, baby, it's going to be hard. You'll always miss him. Your grief isn't going to get smaller, you'll just grow around it." Dottie continued to cradle Adaline until she fell asleep against her chest, as tiny in that moment as she was the day the rabbit died.