I pull the three shoe boxes out of my wardrobe. One is the box my school shoes came in, the second is a Converse one and the last is a Doc Martens box. And each one is crammed full of Josh. The box from Clark's is full of photos of us, of cinema tickets even though they're ugly things printed on the same paper as receipts and the cards from the arcade. The Converse box holds the bear he gave me in the early days as well as a bunch of lollies I never ate because I hate lollies (he caught the hint eventually) and a bracelet he got for me from Wales when he went last summer.

It's the last box that I'm looking for though. My favourite outfit once upon a time is neatly folded inside. A soft green jumper I used to wear all the time, paired with a very specific pair of slightly ripped jeans. It was my good luck outfit, the one I wore when I wanted something good to happen. Like when I want the police to not think I'm a total psycho for the murder for murder deal.

I take the clothes out and replace the boxes in my wardrobe. I'll give them a quick iron so I don't look like a complete mess tomorrow, pair them with a nice pair of shoes and a sensible hairstyle. I'll use all those stupid leadership skills we learnt in PSHE to make them take me seriously.

This is the outfit I was wearing when we broke up., The one I wore to Priya's older brother's party. The one I was wearing as Josh and I screamed at each other until our throats were raw and our hearts were broken. On that dodgy street on the outskirts of the city, that's where I was when I was wearing this outfit for the last time as my boyfriend broke up with me.

"I didn't want to fucking come to this thing, Josh!" I'd been yelling.

"Nobody made you!" He was going red from all the shouting, his eyes blazing.

He knew what made me. Laura's lingering gazes, her tendency to sit too close to him, to reply to innocent texts way too fast. And Josh? He didn't acknowledge it, not once, but he liked it. I could tell. The thought of other girls being interested in him while he had me, that thought was nice. Backups in case we didn't work out. Not that he'd ever admit it. So walking in on him with Laura, not doing anything (to her dismay) but laughing like he didn't laugh with me anymore hurt. It hurt so much that it started another fight, adding to all the ones we'd already had in the previous weeks.

"This isn't working out, is it?" His voice was softer all of a sudden, the blaze in his eyes dying down into a soulful gaze. "Eve?"

"Shut up," I whispered. "We'll make it work. It'll work, okay? Josh?"

"I'm sorry, Eve," he said.

One last kiss. Under a broken lamppost on a dodgy street. Soft, sweet. Not like the wild ones from the last few months, searching desperately for more like it would fix all the arguments. Filled with tears because I'd already started to cry.

And then Josh Hartley walked away from me.

That's how Mom and Dave found me, crying on the pavement with my fists clenched and my hair falling into my eyes.

And it feels morbid to be wearing this outfit now, after he's gone. To wear the clothes I wore while he kissed me for the last time. Maybe I did secretly hope that everything would work out, that one day Josh Hartley would kiss me again. But he can't.

I end up crying myself to sleep, clutching the jumper tight as it soaks up my tears.