IT'S BEEN A LITTLE over a week since that dream, and seeing as Christmas is now just around the corner, I've thrown myself into making the flat as Christmassy as I can... mostly for the distraction.

Today is always the worst day. It's Matt and Tessa's birthday today - they're twentieth birthday - and to be honest I can already tell it's going to be a bad day, since it's storming outside, and that it's nearly one in the afternoon and I'm still in bed. I don't have the energy to think about anything, or do anything.

I lie in bed for another half an hour, listening to the sound of silence, when I hear my phone buzzing from across the other side of my room.

I lift my head up and groan, not wanting to get out of bed. But it's buzzing like crazy, so I can only imagine it's Millie sending me instructions for airport pick-ups next week.

That was one piece of good news that came this week. Millie's exams are all finished, so she'll be heading over here in a couple of days time to spend Christmas with me. I had been resigned to be on my own, but then when she texted me, I was immensely relieved. The thought of spending Christmas on my own - despite being resigned to it - made me feel even more alone than I ever had. But as Millie was coming, I'd decided to go all out, seeing as last Christmas we didn't even have a tree.

The apartment is decked in decorations. I'd bought every kind of Christmas light available, hanging them up all over the living room and kitchen, as well as on the balcony. There is a huge tree in the living room, which is nearly two feet taller than me. That's the only thing in the whole apartment I haven't decorated - because Millie made me promise - but the rest of it is decked head to toe in Christmas.

As my phone keeps buzzing, I pull my pillow over my head for a moment before sitting up properly. I feel devoid of energy, so before tackling Millie's list of things to do, I decide breakfast and coffee is needed first.

With one last sigh and a yawn, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and finally get up and leave my room.

As I walk across my apartment to the kitchen, the bones in my legs and my ankles click numerous times, as well as me aching all over from my physical therapy session and as I lean down to inspect what food I have in my fridge, my back clicks too.

"Jesus," I say out loud, groaning as I stand up.

I had one more month of physical therapy left and I was glad of it. Despite only using basic machines, with weights I would have been able to do in my sleep back in school, after coming back from a separated shoulder and four leg surgeries, it takes time.

To take my mind off the fact Millie might not have been coming, I did extra sessions too, to show her how far I'd come. And as my back clicks again as I sit down, I'm starting to think maybe I'd taken it a little too far.

As I pour myself a bowl of granola - which seemed to be the only cereal left in my cupboard since it had been a while since I'd gone shopping - I can still hear my phone buzzing in the other room.

I walk over with my bowl and swipe away Millie's messages without reading them, sticking my phone in my pocket before going back to my cereal. It was probably her ringing over and over about all the Christmas decorations she wants me to get, despite me already putting everything up. Christmas is still a big deal to her, and I don't want to take that away from her. And I'm thinking, maybe some of that Christmas spirit will rub off on me eventually.

My phone is buzzing in my pocket non-stop. "Christ, what the hell is going on with my phone!" I mumble to myself.

I look at my phone and it seems I've missed nearly sixty-five phone calls from Millie, which was a bit intense. She had been known to butt dial me, as I'm on speed-dial one, but I had a horrible feeling this one wasn't a butt dial.

Deciding I should probably answer, I take my phone out of my pockey just as a text comes through, probably because I haven't answered.

My eyes skim the four words of the first message, and my phone drops from my hand and clatters to the floor, followed by my cereal bowl.

Four words.

Tessa has a boyfriend

The words are a punch to the gut, a stab through the chest and slap to the face all at once.

Tessa has a boyfriend

I pick my phone up off the floor, and as I read it again, I can barely see it or the other messages through the mist of red now shrouding over my vision. I feel like I'm gripping the phone so hard it might crumble in my hand. I can feel myself shaking, trembling, like my whole body is vibrating with some kind of unwanted pent up energy that just needs to explode.

So it does.

With a loud yell, I slam my phone down into the granite worktop, hoping it might smash the screen. I do it again and again, until I hear it smash and feel the screen splinters slice into the heel of my hand. I yell again as I grab the glass next to me and throw it at the counters across the room. I yell as smash all the plates out on the side and anything I can get my hands on... wishing I had some of Dad's decanters left that I could smash.

I'm angry. I'm so angry. How could she do this to me? How? How could she betray me like that?

But then my subconscious screams at me, loud and clear: BECAUSE YOU TOLD HER TO!

My whole body seizes in shock, unable to accept that she has found a way to be happy with someone else... or how anyone else could possibly deserve someone as special as she was. In my letter I had told her to find someone who could give her the world... and I suppose after of not hearing anything, I was starting to think that maybe there wasn't anyone. But no... There was someone, and now the reality of my mistake is truly sinking in.

Through eyes hazy with tears, I look down at my phone, trying to make out the other messages through the cracks in the screen.

With each message, a new dagger is driven straight through, as each detail kills me further. Tears drop on the counter from my eyes, and as I read the final message, I'm almost doubled over in pain, as that gaping hole - the one I thought was starting to heal - opens up wider than it ever had done, exposing me to the full heat of what I'd brought upon myself.

He's a boy from uni. Andy said his name is Jamie

I wanted to be the one to tell you before someone else did... or you saw it on Facebook

Archie, I'm so sorry x

She put it on Facebook? I think to myself.

We never really did anything about our relationship on Facebook, because we didn't really think it mattered... but yet she's done it with him?

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and sniff, shaking my head as my brain pulls me to my feet and walks me over to my laptop.

I need to see this. I have to see what this person looks like... what he looks like with her. Whether she does truly look happy. I understand it will be torture... but I have to do it.

But then my heart kicks in and my feet stop just short of my room.

Can I do this to myself? Can I put myself through this?

NO!

My subconscious is screaming at me to leave it be, but I can't. I have to see. How can I not?

Continuing along my previous path, I march over to my desk, open my laptop and pull up Facebook. I'd deactivated it since I'd come here, but I reactivate it quickly and for this purpose alone, hoping no one would notice in the five minutes I spend on here.

I type in her name and take a breath as it comes up in the drop down search. I hover the mouse over it, giving myself a second to prepare.

Once I do, it takes a minute for the screen to load but the pain hits me again as I see her pictures.

The first one, her cover photo, hasn't changed from the one it's always been. It's one of Matt and her when they were younger, both missing the same front tooth, both grinning widely with strawberry lollies around their faces. She told me once that she would never change it from that, and it warms me to know that she hasn't.

But then my gaze drifts to her profile picture. It used to be one of her and me. I expect she changed it as soon as I left, but I haven't seen it since before Matt died. Now, it's one of her and... him.

The photo hasn't been taken by her, as it's a close-up of her and this boy on a stage. She's singing into a microphone, but what I'm focussing on is the fact she's holding this guy's hand. They're gazing at each other, and I swear, what's left of my heart shatters then and there.

I can't really see his face - which is probably a good thing - but I can see hers. And I know that look. She's looking up at him the way she used to look up at me. Like I was her entire world. Her eyes are glistening and bright, and although I am glad she's found someone to make her this happy, I never thought it would be this painful to witness.

She looks so beautiful as well. Her cheeks are rosy and flushed, her hair is tied in a plait, the way she always used to do it, and she looks almost fairy-like as the multi-coloured lights of the stage shine over her.

What the fuck was I thinking? Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to let the only good thing I had left slip through my fingers. I'm an idiot. I knew it before I even left, but the reality is dawning on me more and more as I stare at this picture.

As I stare at it, stroking a finger over the screen, my mind starts churning out hundreds of questions, wondering whether this guy would be good enough for her?

No one ever would be. Even when I had her, when she had me, even I didn't think I was enough, so what gives this Jamie the right to think he is? No one would or could ever understand just how utterly special she was.

Oh god, what if she's told him about me? About what I'd done to her, how I did the most unspeakable thing by giving up. Giving up on me, on her... on both of us. But then even if she did, I could never hold it against her, because it's all true. I would also understand if I didn't tell him... because I wouldn't want the shadow of us hanging over her either.

I grit my teeth as I slam my laptop shut.

Why the hell are you getting yourself so angry? my subconscious asks me again.

"I don't know!" I yell back to it's silent question.

I'm literally tearing my hair out as I pace up and down my bedroom floor, wondering who this boy was, and whether he knew everything about her... All those little things that make Tessa who she is.

Does he know that she likes to pour her milk before her cereal every morning, or that she reads the last chapter of the book first, just to make sure the story ends happily? Does he know that she always forgets whether she's locked the car and always has to ask, at least ten times, for reassurance about whether she has or not? Does he know that she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's nervous, or sticks her tongue out slightly when she's really concentrating? Does he know she has insanely ticklish feet, or that she has a laugh that causes the darkest parts of your soul to brighten? Does he know she's petrified of birds, or that she's the absolute worst person to watch horror films with? Does he know she only drinks peppermint tea before bed, and that when she's asleep, she always tucks herself into the tiniest ball... Does he know that, if she loves you, she'll do absolutely everything and anything to protect you? And that when she loves you, she loves you with everything she has?

I shake my head. I used to know those things... but I had no right to know those things anymore.

My gut instinct tells me that she has told him, or that he would soon be lucky enough to learn all these wonderful things. I never told her I loved this things about her... all those tiny quirks that made me smile every day...

I shake my head and skip to the next photo, but I'm only slightly relieved when the next photo isn't one of two of them. But that relief disappears when the one of us isn't there either. I skip forward a couple more times before I can't bear it anymore. I snap my laptop shut and have to stand quickly before I either do something I regret, or I throw it half way across the room.

To be honest I'd already done something I regretted.

I need to get out of here. Out of my room, out of my own headspace. I practically sprint out of the room and get to the front door when I realise my phone is still buzzing.

I change direction and walk over to my phone which, despite being in pieces, is still working. It's Millie, I don't need to look at the screen to know that. But I can't talk to her now. I can't let her hear me so raw and hurting because she'll think it's her fault for telling me... even though the blame is certainly set to land on my shoulders. Now and forever.

To get the buzzing to finally stop, I pick up my phone and slam my fist into the counter, welcoming the fierce pain that comes with it. Pain helps. It really helps, so I slam it again, and then again and again until I hear and feel the crack of a bone breaking in my hand.

I scream out loud, letting all my pain and anguish out into the open as I ball my hand up into a fist, encouraging the pain before I slam it into the counter again. Tears are falling down my face but I keep punching it until my knuckles split open and bleed.

When I finally stop, my hand is shaking so hard, but it's what I deserve. But what I deserve more is a drink. Drinking seemed to work to drown Dad's emotions... so wouldn't it help to drown mine. It makes me sick to think I'm treading a fine line between our two paths, but I need something to drown me... and this is all I can think of.

Grabbing my keys from the bowl on the kitchen top, along with what's left of my phone, I pull on my sliders and head out of the door.

I needed to be somewhere far away from here, far away from anywhere that anyone knows me. And there is only one  place that can bring me solace.