Dedicated to SaraRBA for her lovely comments on the previous chapters. Thank you for the support!

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LISTENING TO MY favourite songs hurt.

It had never dawned on me exactly how sad my playlist was. I had a full list of songs that could make one's heart break by just one snap of the fingers - just like my heart had broken all over again at the sound of my favourite song playing through my phone speaker.

I sat spread-eagled on my bed, listening to Wicked Game by Chris Issak. The lyrics stung like knives into my body and despite them making my pain worse, I couldn't bring myself to pause it. I adored that song and I wanted to let all of the pain out. Completely, one hundred per cent out.

It had been two hours since I woke up, beyond relieved that it was a Saturday, and I had not moved an inch ever since. My throat had felt dry, my tongue like sand, and my head a giant sack of needles.

I had been staring at the ceiling, trying to find the will to get up from the bed, but much like my dignity, that will was nowhere to be found.

Merely a day had passed since Mac called me to end things, but I felt like it had been a lifetime.

Everything seemed to be standing still. Especially the time. I kept glancing at the clock in the hopes of seeing it skip a few hours, but it refused to obey. Not for the first time I wished the talking clock from Beauty And The Beast would be here. At least I'd have more company.

I kept my fixed stare upon my cream-colored ceiling. Thoughts of Mac spun around in my head ferociously. The song didn't help either.

He had been the first thing I thought about when I woke up. I didn't even have to wake up to think about everything that had happened. It was something pressed so deep into my subconscious that it was as if I'd been aware of the break-up even when battling with my dreams. But even sleep, it seemed, wasn't enough to fully distract me.

I felt useless. Pathetic, even.

If some words from one simple boy were enough to reduce me to a state of vegetation, what would I do when something worse happened?

What would I do if the person I loved would lie to me? Cheat on me? Or even worse, die?

I closed my eyes and tried to push those thoughts away.

I felt as if the break-up had only just now fully registered into my brain. I somehow felt worse today, but maybe that was because I had a lot of time on my hands and nothing to do with it. No one to spend it with. And that left a deep void inside my chest - a black hole I didn't know how to fill again.

That emptiness was truly what consumed me.

Tears rimmed my eyes. I could hear footsteps outside my room and I immediately blinked them away.

I didn't want my mother to see me like this. I felt vulnerable and ashamed for letting myself reach this state.

And I also wasn't ready to hear an hour long speech about why men were only good at something unless they were women.

This was in fact one of her jokes, which I couldn't laugh at even if I wanted to at this point.

I let out a sigh of relief when the steps descended onto the stairs to the living room. I reached for my phone and changed the current song, aiming for a more cheerful tune this time. But even the happier songs from my playlist still had depressing lyrics. I clearly hadn't thought this through.

I let the song play nonetheless, but I couldn't focus at it anymore. I felt as if a wave of ants suddenly climbed on my legs, marching their way up from my toes and to my knees, shooting currents of energy through the very fabric of my skin.

I stood up from the bed and almost lost my balance due to the sudden change of weight into my feet.

I felt as if I had not been walking for a week. My legs felt stiff and I could barely make a step without feeling the ants sting every single part of my skin.

It was then that I realized I couldn't mope around in my bed anymore. It was either that or risking growing roots for legs.

I moved mechanically across the room, one step at a time, and after a few more tries, I finally regained my force. I needed to take a walk. I needed fresh air, and I needed to move.

Before I had time to change my mind, I dressed into something more uncomfortable - a pair of jeans and a hoodie - and walked downstairs.

Mom was cooking something in the kitchen. The air smelled of fresh bacon and I instantly felt my stomach growl.

"What are you doing?" Mom asked sternly, most likely having noticed my outfit. "I hope you're not going out without eating first. You woke up more than two hours ago. You must be starving."

I was. But when Mom had first come into my room a few minutes after I woke up, asking me if I wanted to eat, I was in no mood for such a thing. In fact, I had not realized I was hungry until I sensed the smell of food.

So I took a seat at the table in the kitchen and watched for a few moments as Mom put the sizzling bacon and eggs into a plate, added a fork and a knife on top of them, and put it in front of me.

I didn't expect to finish eating in under five minutes. Not with everything that was on my mind. But considering the fact that I had not eaten anything for approximately nineteen hours, it only made sense I ate something now. Plus, eggs and bacon was my favorite type of breakfast, and Mom was more than aware of that.

I left the plate in the dishwasher and went back into the living room where Mom had relocated in the mean time.

She was watching the news and I went to hug her goodbye, telling her I was off for a walk. She raised an eyebrow and I knew she was a little bit sceptic of me going alone, as she knew how much I hated that. But being alone right now was more than enough for me.

I walked outside into the brisk morning air and headed north towards the centre of the town. I had no exact location in mind, I just let my steps guide me because, quite frankly, I had no other option.

The sky was grey and overcome with clouds that threatened to spill their wrath in the form of heavy rain any second. I hadn't thought of bringing an umbrella but I wasn't too worried about the wheather either.

I winced inwardly every time I passed by a couple holding hands. Looking at them felt like a knife was repeatedly being plunged into my stomach. And I must've felt that at least a dozen times during my walk.

It reminded me of the first time I had done that with Mac, holding hands while walking home together, right after that first night when we'd both agreed we would be a couple.

It wasn't an oral agreement; not exactly. It was more something we both agreed on without actually voicing out the words.

Except that our intentions for our relationship had most likely been diametrically opposite. Me, enjoying the happiness his presence brought along, and him trying to find ways to make Jenny Whitman jealous by being with me. At least that's what I imagined he had been doing.

I shook these thoughts away. I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, ready to spill out, but I wasn't going to let them escape this time. They would remain trapped in there, locked up into their own iron clad cage.

Mac is not worth crying over, I reminded myself.

I reached a turning point at the end of the street and without actually realizing it, I crossed the street and turned right, heading onto Third Avenue, which was actually a smaller, cheaper replica of Fifth Avenue.

I passed by countless shops, dressed-up mannequins staring at the people passing by through the window, with their glassy brown eyes and fancy outfits that somehow only ever looked good on their current plastic bearers.

And that's when I saw them.

I came to an abrupt halt, my heart clutched tightly into my throat. A chill passed through my body and my hands grew with sweat.

There, inside one of the shops, were the aformentioned sources of pain in the bottom.

Mac and Jenny.

She, trying on a pair of silvery high-heeled shoes, and him, sitting down on one of those small shop stools, examining her with what looked like a sheepish smile.

I glanced at them through the window, half of their profiles turned towards me, and even though I wished I wasn't seeing clearly, that I was confusing them for someone else, I knew I wasn't.

It was them. And the sight of them together killed me even more.

I hurried away from the window before they could see me, but I was no longer thinking.

I marched back into the direction where I'd come from. Except that I was now set onto auto-pilot mode. My feet had a will of their own as they seemed to be leading me back home, but my mind was flanked by Mac and Jenny.

I was blinking furiously, trying to make that poisonous image of them together go away.

But it was hopeless.

It was burned into my cornea, so deep that I wasn't sure I was able to erase it. To erase them from my mind. Erase the smile he had been wearing at the sight of her. Only her.

Not me.

Her.

And as I kept walking, an irrational thought began to overcome me. It was like a bolt of lightning passed through my body. I instinctively fished my phone from my pocket and search for the number in my contacts without thinking twice.

"Hello?" The voice answered after three rings.

"I'm in."

"What?" Barbara asked, clearly confused.

"I'm in," I repeated, determination sneaking into my voice. "I need you to help me find a date for prom."

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Hello there, thank you so much for reading! What did you think of the ending? Will Barbara find Cece a date in the end?

Comment down all of your thoughts, and also leave any feedback you have regarding this chapter or this story in general. Your votes and comments really motivate me to keep writing :)

Next chapter coming up this Wednesday or Friday max. Stay tuned!

P.S. Are the chapters too long? Let me know what you think. Thank you!