Not Robert. No, Robert was fucking Rebecca Thompson in his one-bedroomed flat, no doubt.Helen looked at the floor of the studio. Her eyes followed the...track of teardrops as they littered the floor between the door and the large mirror that she now stood in front of. She stared back at the not so innocent teenager; with the smeared and dripping mascara, the dishevelled hair and the gaunt look on her face.Helen’s hand smashed into the glass with some force, she looked at her knuckles burgeoning. I crushed it between my fingers to force it to dissolve quicker. Cheryl started down the steps while I was shaking the bottle like a madman."Are you okay?" she asked handing me the bottle.I nodded and yanked the drink out of her hand to pound it down. She looked nervous so I glanced away trying to recuperate. My heart was still beating crazily, but I could not do anything except sit back down.Thankfully, Cheryl set off on her best lecture about the bad things that would happen to me unless I. More

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