The clock struck sharply at quarter to 1 a.m. It was pitch black with nothing but the whistling of trees and the gushing of wind, furiously creaking into the window panes and the empty space that was her sound but silent apartment. Squinting her eyes, careful not to let the sweet call of slumber fly away, she decides to switch her bedside lamp on, turning a bright luminescent shade of white light that fills her room, and leaves the roaches of the night scampering to safety.

‘You hate him, I get it but…’
‘You hate him too, you’re just blinded by the prevalent belief that you still need him…wake up. ..You don’t.’
‘…’
Well, we are almost there, for one day…I need you…I need you to forget this petulance and just be there. If not for me…then for mum’
‘Alright…fine, let’s get this over with then.’