When going through tough times, I always liked to think of those less fortunate than myself that would kill for my minor problem. It never really made me feel any better, but it would always make me feel guilty for my self pity and expose just how much I'd blown the situation out of proportion in comparison to much more important issues that were happening elsewhere.

As I sat parked in Axel's truck outside one of Ian's houses at five in the morning that Monday, I couldn't say my internal scolding was helping what with the two boys beating each other senseless mere metres away from me. Every fibre of my being screamed at me to get out and put a stop to the fight between Parker and Jason, but if I was going to help out I had to think things through first. What help would I be if my legs were shaking so much that I could barely support my own body weight? That even being this close to Jason, behind the safety of a locked car door and all of Parker's friends, still made my teeth chatter. Never mind pull Parker free from his demonic clutches, how would I stand? If I was to be logical in my response to this insane situation, I had to sort myself out before I worked up the courage to sort out the fight.

This was the twelfth punch I'd seen to Parker's face, not taking into account the five minute meltdown I'd had within the vehicle where I hadn't looked at the pair at all. Having only the soundtrack to the brawl was somehow worse than the visual. The pained grunts that I couldn't be sure escaped Parker's lips or Jason's had soon driven me stir crazy, and although the sight of crimson coating almost the entirety of Parker's face made bile rise in my throat, it was better knowing he was still upright. Alive.

I flinched as though I'd been hit myself when Jason slammed Parker into the garden fence. One of the pointed spikes tore through the back of his shirt, but from my distance I didn't know whether or not his flesh was included in the rip. He bent down to pick something up and Jason took his doubled over position to his advantage, kneeing him in the abdomen. Hard. Parker fell to the grass but I could no longer see him. The fence was in the way.

I clambered out of the car without so much as a single thought. Selfish. I was selfish for accepting his demand to hide in his car. I was hiding and it was my fault that he was here in the first place. That he was fighting his old friend. That his old friend, the guy he'd actually hated and had no longer lived here, was back. Screw thinking logically. Screw sitting back and spectating. I was the one to blame but Parker had somehow wound up as the punchbag. It didn't matter that I was scared. It didn't matter that I was afraid of touching, either. He was mine, and nobody laid a finger on him but me.

"Get off him!" I screamed as I ran. It didn't feel very windy, but my jerky legs were moving so fast that my hair was whipping about my face. I flew past Hayden who was standing as still as a statue just as he had been throughout the fight's entirety. I whizzed past Axel who was struggling to hold back a snarling Matthew, the harmless puppy that Jason had turned into an enraged Staffordshire Bull Terrier ready to rip his throat out. "Don't you dare hit him one more time!"

A hand grabbed my upper arm, pulled me back. Topher.

"Let go of me," I panted, squirming to reach Parker.

Forget planning how to intervene. Parker was on the ground with Jason looming over him painted in angry red. There were broken shards of a terracotta flower pot littering the frost coated grass and Parker's bloody hand was inching toward a jagged piece.

"I've tried to split them up, Flora. It's no use. This used to happen before you came into his life. Not with Jason, but these type of fights. The type where he's the one to decide when it ends. You can see it on his face-"

"I don't give a fuck what you see on his face!" I wrenched my arm from his grip and ran. "Get the hell away from my boyfriend, you dick!"

"Flora!"

At the sound of my name, Parker's hand froze around the makeshift weapon he'd been slyly trying to grab a hold of and jerked his head to look in my direction. There was only enough time for Parker's mouth to form the shape of a perfect O before I launched myself between them. This just so happened to be the exact moment Jason shot his fist out.

I staggered backward and tripped over Parker's feet, falling flat beside him. Everything seemed frozen in place, unmoving. The adrenaline, I thought. It's the adrenaline. Belatedly, however, I came to the understanding it was because everyone was frozen. They were all wearing the same expression Parker had worn barely a second ago. Eyes were trained on my stomach, the spot of impact. I caught a flash of something orange and triangular slipping from between Jason's scarlet fingers before it disappeared in the dying blades of grass. The moment the shard of terracotta pot hit the ground, Jason sprinted. He'd rounded the street corner before I'd even registered the first throb of pain.

"Flora," Parker's voice was uncharacteristically high in pitch as he scrambled toward me. One of his arms was across his stomach, fingers pushing at his shredded shirt whilst the other helped drag his body nearer me. I was praying that he wasn't trying to keep his internal organs from spilling out because there was certainly enough blood around for that to be the case.

"Some first date this was," I attempted a forced laugh but it turned into a throaty cough as my abdomen protested. It didn't particularly like the coughing either but I couldn't seem to stop. Reflexively I grabbed my stomach, and it was only then that I caught sight of the expanding pool of crimson soaking through the thin material of my clothes. My fingers glistened in the light from the rising sun. "Oh."

"Did he just- stab you?" Axel sputtered. He was now holding Matthew up rather than back. He was limp in his arms, shaggy blond hair a mess and tears streaking through his blood encrusted face to reveal the milky flesh beneath.

"Why is he crying?" I voiced my thoughts. Barely half a second ago the boy had been livid. Why did that amuse me? Why did I feel hysterical? The sky was so very dark...

"Because- I- you-" He removed his hand from his side and winced as he flailed it about, gesturing to my stomach. "I can't- you just got- are you laughing?"

"I feel funny." I confessed, squinting to make him out. His face was an indistinguishable blurred oval. So was Matthew's. Everybody's faces, smudges of paint on a vast black canvas. Smears. Specks of pink.

Gone.

***

"I can't provide you with a specific answer, Mrs Montgomery. Your daughter will wake when her body is ready. The pain medication I've prescribed her with will of course make her drowsy, maybe even a little confused. Thankfully the blow she had to her face didn't appear to give her a concussion. I believe it was the stress and shock of the night that eventually caused her to pass out. The sight of the injury her stomach sustained must have pushed her over the edge, and rightly so. An abduction and a stabbing on the same night? Awful. Absolutely aw-"

"How serious is the damage?" The voice sounded vaguely familiar. No... it was too high in pitch. Squawky like a bird.

"Not as bad as it looks. As I was saying earlier, it wasn't blood loss that caused her to pass out but simply a combination of the stressful events. No bones broken, no irreparable damage. One of her abdominal muscles were slightly torn but with appropriate bed rest and those stitches, everything will be fine. A night of observation should do the trick and then she's free to leave. An incredibly lucky girl you have."

"-poor baby," The voice was mumbling. Or was the woman crying? I knew it from somewhere but my brain was having trouble catching up with my ears. "-to think it was all that boy's fault!"

"About him," The male speaker paused. "He's really rather adamant that he see her. He's been waiting outside all night even though he's in a worse state than your daughter. Far worse. That fight nearly killed the boy. Though his intention of calling the ambulance was for your daughter, he himself was actually in a much greater need of our assistance. He still is but our doctors can't move him out of the hallway."

"You only let family in," She was speaking clearly now, loud. It was her firm voice and I'd recognise it anywhere. "Do not dare permit Parker Heywood to enter this ward. He's nothing but trouble, that boy. Threw a brick through my window because I told Flora to stop seeing him. Oh my poor baby," There was more incoherent muttering. "-poor thing. Can't help attracting the wrong type-" Mumble. "-restraining order, maybe?"

"It isn't really my place to say, Mrs Montgomery. I'm just a doctor. Perhaps you and your daughter should discuss this situation. Or you and your husband."

"Ian's not my- Oh. Yes."

At the mention of Ian's name escaping my mother's lips, my eyes automatically shot open. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it, stomach screaming in protest. The sheet underneath me crackled as I tried to rearrange myself again. White. Everywhere I looked, sterile white. The rickety cot I was on, its paper thin sheets, the walls, the tiled flooring. It was all too bright for having just opened my eyes, the light blinding me like two insistent fingers prodding at them.

"Ian-" I wheezed, panicked. What had my mother meant when she went along with the marriage suggestion? Where they engaged? Perhaps I shouldn't have left them alone so much in the house. I should have gritted my teeth and tolerated my discomfort. Got in between the pair of them rather than hide. What had I done? I'd ruined Parker and his friends. I'd ruined my family... "Ian-"

"Right here, sweetheart." His voice replied, and suddenly he was obscuring my vision. His face the only thing in my line of sight. Ian and his ginger hair and ginger stubble and dark, dark, dark fathomless pits for eyes. Fake pits. Those weren't his real irises. There was probably something even more disturbing hiding underneath those contacts of his. How could this be? How could he be sitting on my hospital bed? Was this a nightmare? "It's alright," He said soothingly as he brushed his fingers up and down my forearm. How could my mum let him touch me like this? "I'm here."

I recoiled quicker than I ever had for anything. So quick, in fact, that one of the wheels on the cot made a horrific squeak and the entire bed began to move backward. The wall prevented the rolling wheels from travelling any more than a few centimetres.

"Flora!" My mother cried, rushing to my other side and steadying the bed. It was claustrophobic. Too much. "Flora! Oh my baby girl, my poor baby!" Her hands fluttered by her sides, clearly wanting to touch me but knowing better. Unlike Ian, she didn't just spontaneously force it. Perhaps she hadn't noticed he just molested my forearm. "You're awake! I'm so happy you're awake."

"Why did you agree with the doctor when he said Ian was your husband?" I spat.

"Really?" My mother's voice had taken on that uncharacteristically high pitched edge, the sound that was close to tears. It reminded me of when my father left. "That's the first thing you say! My goodness, Flora. You've been through hell and your biggest concern is-"

"Are you engaged?"

"I- no! It was just to get him in here with me so that he could see you were safe and well. Only family can see you. Ian was very concerned." Defended my mother.

"I want him out," All I could think of were the photographs. The photographs in that room that belonged to Ian. Ian, a stalker. Ian working with Jason. Was Jason still out there? Had he come back for Parker? "I need to see Parker."

The silence seemed to stretch on for an enternity before my mother tried to break it. "Flora-"

"Right now," I could feel tears welling in my eyes. The hysteria was close and soon I'd be a blubbering mess. When things felt too much at home, this was how I ended up. Not that my mother was aware, but Parker was the one who always brought me back down. Stopped me from floating away. Kept me grounded. "Mum, I need to see Parker right now. I need to-"

"Shhh, honey it's okay-"

"Don't call me that." I snapped.

"I'm sorry, but you're not seeing Parker. Not after this. We can talk about how you got wound up in that gang fight later, or why you were hanging out with Parker in the first place after I'd specifically forbidden you all those months ago, but for now you're to get better. Ian and I can keep you company-"

"Ian needs to leave!" I yelled. The tears were streaking down my face now, my hands pulling at my hair in distress in a very Parker-like fashion.

"Flora, what has gotten into you?" She hissed, wiping at her own welling tears. "Baby, we're just worried about you. We'll just sit on the chairs at the side and let you sleep. It'll all be fine."

"I'll be fine when he leaves, mum! I do not want that man anywhere near me."

Ian had his head tilted slightly to the side, speculative. I couldn't meet his eyes. Not today. Not now. I needed at least five minutes to myself to gather my thoughts before I started the daily mind games through staring contests.

"Flora," Her voice was low. "Stop making a scene. Do you want a doctor to come in and tell me to leave?"

"If it would get rid of him," I jerked my head in his direction but kept my gaze focused on my mother. "Then yes. One hundred times yes."

She gasped.

"It's okay," Said Ian eventually as both my mother and I stared at one another, my face hopefully with a mask of determination and my mother's sporting an infuriated one. I couldn't blame her, really. She was oblivious, after all. I probably just seemed extremely ungrateful for having two people that cared about me and ordering them both to leave without so much as a thank you. She couldn't know that one cared a little too much - and said one wasn't her. "I can go."

"No," Said my mother evenly. "You're staying here. You've done nothing wrong, Ian. She's just a hormonal teenager who can't accept her own mother's happiness and this is being amplified because of the accident. Take none of this personally, I'm sure she'll appreciate it later."

I clambered off the cot, ignoring my mother's shrill shrieks of protest. I was wearing nothing but a paper gown and felt incredibly exposed in front of Ian as I backed into the farthest corner of the wall from the pair. I wondered if he'd already captured a shot of me in it with the camera that bared an incredible resemblance to Skylar's. Wondered if the camera was hers. I could feel the gauze on my stomach move, my wound sing it's hatred toward the pulling of skin as I raised my arm, pointing toward the door from which they were to exit from. "I think it'd be better if Ian was out of the picture!"

I still refused to meet Ian's eyes but I felt his stare more than ever. I hoped that he received my hint as to why I was acting this way. Maybe then he'd stop with the calculating looks. Each one felt like it was scorching my soul, scorching through my paper gown and seeing all of my secrets, all of my everything.

"She's right, love. It's best if I go if it means she'll be comfortable. I'm a therapist, I know what's best for a patient when I see it. This time it's my departure. I'm not family," There was a pause, a scorching stare in my peripheral vision. "Not yet."

It was a threat, I was sure of it. The tears wouldn't stop rolling down my cheeks and I was beginning to dry heave. Bending over, I put my hands on my thighs and tried to steady my laboured breathing. I used to have terrible panic attacks when somebody touched me, but the only contact involved in this argument had been with his eyes. It seemed that, too, was something I had a fear of. Just another thing to add to my list of never ending issues.

"Get out..."

"Flora-"

"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" I screwed my eyes shut as uncontrollable shudders took over my body. The room was much too small and Ian's presence much too big. We couldn't all fit. It was shrinking and so were my lungs. I crouched down, ignoring the searing pain in my side as I huddled in the room's corner screaming it over and over, unsure as to whether he had left the room yet. I didn't care. I'd yell it for as long as it took to leave my mind.

"Flora!" His voice ripped through the hellish blanket that had wrapped itself around my life, caccooning me in misery. "Flora? Flora, honey, breathe. Remember what works? In for three, hold for three, out for three. You got it? Count with me. Flora- eyes on mine. How many fingers?"

It was my Parker, his large hands tilting my head back from its hiding place in my folded arms. He wasn't a dream. He was warm and solid and here and mine. "Three," I said, voice raspy. How long had I been yelling? "You're holding up th-three fingers."

"So breathe in for three," He said calmly, hazel eyes boring into my own with an intense belief I was capable. I nodded, forcing myself to believe it too and did as I was told. "Hold... One, two, three... and out. Again?"

I wiped at my eyes after a few minutes worth of the breathing exercise. Thinking back to how Parker used to act when I cried, it warmed my heart to see him now. How he was always able to take control of the situation. Fix it. He always fixed things. But his face hadn't been fixed right. His face-

"Oh my goodness," I gripped either side of his face without thinking, turning it from side to side to inspect his injuries. He was black and blue. His beautiful porcelain skin was painted in varying hues of purples and reds and browns. All of his injuries still angry and fresh. I traced his burst lips, the lower one still bleeding. "I'm so sorry," I could feel myself beginning to tremble again. "I'm so sorry, Park, this is all my fault."

"Don't say that," He murmured, carefully hooping his arm around my back and tucking me into his side. "It's not true."

He, too, was only clad in a paper gown. We were undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes crouched in the corner of my ward. I shut my eyes and leaned my head against his shoulder - and he hissed.

"Are you okay?" I sat up immediately, studying his arms for more unnoticed wounds.

I was an absolute wreck on the inside and Parker was on the outside. Perhaps we evened each other out in a sense. I paused to think about that, looking over his battered features. We weren't even at all. Even covered in bandages and injuries he still looked heavenly. Though he'd never looked strictly angelic - more the fallen sort.

"Just a bit sensitive," He shrugged as if it were no big deal, trying to draw me nearer again. I resisted and he caved at the look I sent him. "I dislocated my shoulder. Got a broken nose and a few broken ribs. My hand is fractured and I've got severe bruising, apparently. That's all my ailments out in the open, now will you come here?"

"Where do I put my head if your shoulder-" I began but he just grunted and tugged me back into the same position.