"Is she in there?" Lifting my hand up I rubbed my eyes, turning to see a blurred figure outside of my room, talking to a passing nurse. "Alison Sugg? Mitchell?" Already I could hear the nerves rise in her voice making my heart sink.

A small thank you was exchanged as she walked inside, a shadow of true self as she nears my bed. On her face is a small, fragile smile. "Hey Zozeebo." I try to hide the glossiness in my eyes by reminding her of something familiar, she laughs lightly before breaking down. "Zoe," I cry too, unable to contain my emotions after all this time of wondering how she would react.

She wipes her eyes, trying to ease the tension with a chuckle. "Look at me, I'm a mess and you're the one in hospital." A smile crosses my face, one with sincerity as she sits down, clutching onto my hand with both of hers. "Ali, there is so much I need to say."

"It's okay, Zoe. I know." A simple statement, I know. That I know how much she wants to say, apologise for not realising, for acting out, for the treatment I felt. "You don't have to say anything."

Zoe shakes her head forcefully, taking one hand from mine and wiping her face harshly, sniffing loudly. "No," She bluntly states. "I need to tell you how sorry I am. That I know, no matter what I do you can't forget or fully forgive me for letting this happen to you." Another sniff sounds from her as her lips tremble. "I just wish I had seen it, how he, he," Muttering her name lightly she just cries more, the cry that aches your chest and leaves you exhausted.

"How were you to know? I only knew by a mere fluke." I explain, but she remains silently sobbing. "Once I'm out of here, we can sort this out. I promise." Taking on the role of the stable sister for once she lifts her face, blotchy and broken whilst I lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

We both sat in the quiet of the hospital room for a while, neither of us knowing quite what to say to each other. There was tension, it felt briefly that the burning sensation on my cheek arose, but eased with the coldness of my tears as they fell thinking back to it, how it all happened so quickly. "Do you, do you remember the accident?" She pipes up, and I deliberate my response, shutting my eyes.

Keeping my eyes closed I try to think back, like I have done every hour of the day, yet nothing. "It's not clear at all. I don't remember it, any of it. Caspar says we went for dinner. A date." She raises an eyebrow and I can see one side of her mouth turn upwards lightly. "I don't think it was anything like that, Zoe." Disheartened I relax back in the uncomfortable bed.

"How do you feel about him, really?" Glancing over to her I can see the curiosity loom heavily in her eyes, it was weird growing up, knowing my eyes would never be like hers. I'd never read descriptions about the blue resembling the natural world of the sky or ocean, no one would come up with a thousand different descriptions for my green eyes. Yet, Caspar could. He did.

We were just chatting, late at night. We decided to FaceTime, back in the Darkbloom and Varjack days. I told him I was a mess, too tired with black clinging under my eyes, but he described my eyes like no one else did. Miles never complimented me like Caspar could, no one had ever been as supportive as he has been.

A series of events flash before my eyes, the good, the bad, the poetically beautiful and the ugly. "I don't know." It's the truth, part of me wants to surrender and say I do, I really like him. That I've never felt this way towards someone before, and that it scares me. Then part of me wants to remind myself of all the horror, the torment he was guilty of causing me and the spiral it lead me down. One I feel I am only just getting out of.

"Do you think he feels the same way?" Pondering the thought I lick my lips, deep in thought. My own thoughts, not multiple voices overpowering each other. It's something to get used to.

"How am I supposed to know?" I ask and she sits back in the chair, crossing her legs.

"Ali," She starts, going into the big sister mode, the supportive element she was always better at than I could ever be. "if you know, then you know. I knew with-" She cuts herself off, Alfie still being a sensitive topic to discuss. "Anyhow," Quickly moving on I engage, waiting to hear what she has to say. "who knows," Motioning to my current state. "about this?"

Biting my lip I can see the disappointment cross her eyes, "Joe doesn't know. Mum and Dad do, they were phoned after Jess and Jim. They know I'm okay." Sighing lightly I can feel the guilt itching through my cast, rubbing away until the irritation becomes irresistible.

It bubbles, stretches through the plaster and whispers all the possibilities, what could be. But more than anything I can feel the pressure, the plaster tightening from my mistakes, not using my voice wisely. "Ali?" Snapping out of it Zoe leans closer to the bed, concern crossing her face. "You zoned out, mumbled things to yourself." I can see the worry again, just like I did when we were growing up. "I'll go speak to a doctor, and give Joe a call, okay?" Nodding in response she gets up and walks out, leaving me alone.

Truly alone.

*

As she enters the room a smile forms on her face as my legs dangle over the edge of the bed, still marked badly, but the bruising and swelling has eased. "You ready to go home?" She asks, holding onto her clipboard full of patients with varying severity and priorities.

Nodding in response she helps me get into the wheelchair, despite being allowed home I have to have my leg filled with stitches off the ground. I was going home. Somewhere I needed to be for some time. I needed to think, to have an escape and connect with what life should be. Wheeling out of the room that brought comfort, confusion and delusion I glimpsed inside my neighbours rooms, seeing them asleep or watching TV like they were at home, but this was no home nor haven. It was a place that just did its purpose, nothing more, nothing less.

My Mum stood up when she saw me, a small smile crossing her face at the sight of me, full of life. Regardless of how I appeared physically I haven't felt this alive, this refreshed in years. I was going home, I was going to start a fresh, give myself some time to focus on myself before anyone else. My health was too important to dwindle into nothing again. I refuse to let myself spiral.

As my Mum drives home she tells me everything, about the neighbours who lost their cat, the irritating customers at work, the weather, the house and its faults that I knew all too well. She avoided asking the obvious 'how are you' as I held onto my new medication, the ones I was going to stick to like glue.

"Can I ask you a favour?" Speaking up I interrupt the incessant britishness of discussing the weather, she pauses.

"What is it, sweetie?" I can hear the apprehension heavy in her tone, the fear that I could snap at any minute. That until I digest these tablets I am a ticking time bomb.

Unsure how to phrase it I enjoy the moment of silence as the sounds of cars whizzing by comforts me. "I want six months," Pausing she glances my way before focusing back on the road. Whilst I let the statement hang heavy around us I lift my legs up, bringing them closer to my chest as the seat belt constricts my movements. "six months to just get myself back together." Thinking it all through it feels like the right thing to do, yet the lack of a second voice lowers my spirits.

"Listen, Ali." The start of a parent's negative speech, it is always the same. "I think it is a good idea, just promise me. Promise me you will stay on track this time, I don't want to have to check your bottles again." She speaks with control, her voice not faltering like previous times we have had a conversation like this.

Lowering my legs I straighten up in my chair, trying to get comfortable against the hard backing. "I need this to work, there is a lot I need to do." Every person plays in a slideshow before my very eyes, every single one of them I need to talk to, to clear things up with, to get a reason, a form of explanation from. Everyone is present for a differing reason. I know I need to be stable to talk about most of it, I hold onto my Mother's locket, thinking briefly about what could have been if she were alive, if I was not like her in this respect.

"Six months then? To start afresh?" Mum asked one last time, just to get a sense of certainty from me.

"It's all I'm asking for, then I will try again. Get back to living." Resting my arm against the window I watched the traffic decrease as we got nearer to home, to the house I grew up in.

"Welcome home, Alison."