The days seems to pass us by quickly now, I don't even notice anymore, my mind is too caught up in other matters; like when mine and Niall's next fight will be, or what is happening in work, or when Emma will eventually give up and decide to eat.

I don't like to feel sorry for myself, I can sit on the couch and think of all the bad things that are going on in my life, but then I remember that Emma is upstairs and all aspects of my self pity dissolve. She has nothing, everyone turned their back on her, Harry's fans have started sending her death threats and she was kicked out of her own home. I have everything in comparison to her.

I continue to make breakfast for Niall, myself and Emma. We're having eggs on toast, sunny side up as always, just the way Niall likes it. He lovingly grabs two plates and sets them on the table, the correct cutlery placed either side of the white square plates. I notice the wrong number and take in a deep breath, this is what he does. "Niall could you get out another plate please?" I concentrate on the frying pan.

"I don't know why you make her breakfast. She doesn't deserve it." He mumbles to himself.

I stare at the back of his head and give him a cold disapproving glare, there is no need for him to speak like that about Emma. Like I've told him countless times before, it has nothing to do with us, and anyway, we only know one side of the story.

He takes out a plate and puts it by my side, knowing that Emma isn't going to be at the table with us. "Sorry." He whispers regretfully as he senses my mood then gives me a peck on the cheek; he knows I hate his bitter attitude, and I don't like to be around him when he talks about Emma because it's never nice things anymore.

"It's ready." I ignore his apology and place some toast and an egg onto Emma's plate, then doing the same to mine and Niall's. Once everything is ready I turn to face my boyfriend, "I'll be back in a sec." I tell him, taking Emma's plate and heading up stairs.

Outside the door I take in a large breath and knock. I know she won't answer me but I do it nevertheless to respect her privacy. My feet take me into the room and the dark consumes my eyes, sunlight barely visible apart from the cracks either side of the blackout blind. Emma's body in it's same curled up position on the bed, her back against the wall as she stares aimlessly into the air.

"Hey sweetie," I whisper gently, walking further towards her; hoping that the enticing smell of the food will awaken some sort of hunger inside of her. "I made egg on toast for breakfast." I smile sadly at the plate then back to the once angelic remains of my best friend.

She looks worse, much worse. Like the broken shell of the woman she used to be, her eyes never meet mine but her head leans back and she glances at the plate. It's like she is punishing herself by not eating, it is her torment for whatever she's done.

"I'll leave it there." I tell her, placing the plate beside her on the bed, in an arms reach so maybe she can nibble if she feels like it. Her bloodshot eyes meet mine and soften when she notices my concern.

Lifeless arms slowly extend as she reaches out to me, skin and bone is all I see. A cold touch embraces my face as her index finger rests on the tip of my nose lightly, her weakness overtakes her allowing the skin and bone to fall gently on top of her lap.

"I love you." I whisper to her in reassurance hoping it gives her that little bit of hope. Emma's eyebrows furrow at my words and she shakes her head discouraging my words. Like she doesn't deserve them. When her head falls, I take it as a sign to leave and close the door behind me.

I don't think I can save her.

•••

Work has been completely hectic today, I've been so busy and caught up with everything; although I don't mind much because it takes my mind off of everything back home, it makes me forget for a while until I have to face it all over again.

The drive back home is boring, Niall called me before and told me he is already home and that he made us dinner. Even Emma's which I was surprised at, but he refuses to go near her, which means that I have the duty of taking her food up to her.

I park in the driveway and glance up to the guest room window, I do this every time I come home, and the blind is always closed; she's exiled herself. Sometimes I hope that when I come home the blind will be open, and she'll be downstairs smiling or talking to someone. But she never is. That doesn't happen.

I walk in to find Niall in the kitchen, taking two plates towards the dining room table and leaving one for me to take.

I give him a quick peck on the cheek, throwing my coat and bag on the couch in the living room as I walk upstairs. My stomach drops as it always does when I head into the guest room, whenever I know I'm going to see Emma it drops. The sight of her scares me, it worries me and nothing but concern courses through my veins.

I take the still full plate of egg on toast from it's position beside her on the bed. She hasn't touched it, she never does, but I'd hate to not leave her anything and her then get hungry; at least she has the option. I leave the door open wide and make my way downstairs, I'm going back in there in a second so I don't see a point in closing it.

I race down the stairs and into the kitchen, scraping the plate of cold food into the bin. "Another waste." Niall mumbles sourly to himself, a stabbing pain in my back at his words.

"Don't start Niall." I warn, my voice tired from the same argument we always have.

"I'm just saying there are people that don't have food and here she goes wasting it." He argues back.

An irritated sigh leaves my lips as I turn to face him, the plate falling from my hands and into the sink full of warm water. "And what do you suppose I do Niall? Not leave anything for her?"

"Yes."

"No," I spit back, "that isn't an option."

"Oh so what, she'll keep wasting our food? Just like she wasted Harry's time." He fires back harshly accentuating every single word.

"Don't you dare, Niall." I scold him. I hate it when he does this, his opinion is hypocritical considering he only knows Harry's point of view.

"How dare I? How dare she!" He screams. "I hope she can fucking hear me and know what a disgrace she is! What a disappointment, a liar, and a fucking cheat she is!" He screams, his face turning and aiming his insults towards the stairs.

"STOP!" I screech at the top of my lungs, his face red and powerful, his eyes blazing as he glares at me. "STOP IT!" I finish.

I grasp the ready made plate full of food and attempt to leave the heated argument, hopefully he will calm down and all will be well tomorrow. Although, Niall seems to have other plans as he steps in front of my path. "No Hayley! I will not stop, she deserves to know what she's done to him, what she's put him through."

"And you are going to be the one to tell her that?!" I scream back with a scrunched up expression. "You have no right to talk to her like that Niall! You're so blinded by your friendship with Harry that you forget to remember that there were two people in that relationship, not just one!" I retort, my voice sounding sketchy as a scream.

"You only know what Harry is going through, you have no idea what Emma is going through because you can't even take a plate up to the fucking room!" I scream in his face, lifting my arms and smashing the ceramic plate with force, a loud crash being heard as it's shatters against the tiled kitchen floor.

I run past him leaving the mess and straight to the one place I know he won't go. I slam the door closed behind me, my tears falling effortlessly. We have never fought that bad before, I have never been so angry and hurt before, especially not having Niall be the cause of it.

I place my body next to Emma's on the bed, sitting in the exact same position as her; my back against the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest and my head staring straight forward into a dark abyss.

My sniffles are prominent and striking, my quiet whimpers full of sadness and sorrow. Nothing comparing to the emotionless girl beside me, all of her tears having dried up hours ago. She cries everyday, I don't know why, but she does. Although Niall wouldn't know that, he doesn't seem to care.

A cold familiar hand grasps mine and entwines our fingers tightly, I turn my head to find Emma already looking back at me with a soft painful smile; concern floods her eyes and she squeezes my hand tighter. Even though she is going through hell, she still manages to be there for me.

She strains to pull my hand closer, my body resting next to hers and my head falling to her shoulder as I cry. She doesn't do anything except stare into the darkness and listen to me weep. Her hand never letting go of mine.

___________________________

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- Pianogirl56