You took my heart, could I please have it back?

[34] You took my heart, could I please have it back?

.:Recap:.

I let out a frustrated groan and dumped my guitar on the sofa, standing up and pacing irritably. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I suddenly becoming too attached to people I really shouldn't? I shouldn't be getting attached to James; he would only hurt me. I had to stop thinking about him. But how?

The answer came almost immediately; ignore him, unless not doing so is absolutely necessary.

.:Story Start:.

The rain poured against the window and I stared out of it, my chin resting on my knees, which I hugged. The rain matched mine - and my father's - sombre mood.

Ever since he figured out why I was 'ignoring' him, he had been quiet, reserved, upset. He tried a couple more times to get me to talk, but I didn't, and he finally stopped trying, telling me to come to him when I got over it.

Whenever that might be, I thought glumly as I watched the plants and leaves bow under the weight of the rain pouring down on them. I wasn't sure how long it would take me to overcome my paranoia and fear; all I knew was that we needed a bit of 'family time' before I could even begin to recover.

Sighing, I pulled myself off the window ledge and crossed the room. Because I couldn’t be bothered to go up into the attic, I sat on my bed, took my guitar out and strummed it a bit before starting to play properly. I did my best to ignore the image of James in my head as I player 'his song', but it was difficult.

I played a variety of different songs, my melancholic mood being reflected in my music, for several hours until I heard my father call me down for dinner. We had spaghetti bolognaise, and although I was looking forwards to the meal, it was the first with my father since I got back; yesterday and the day before I had eaten in solitary in my room.

Cautiously, I headed downstairs and into the kitchen where he was just laying the plates onto the table. It looked very appetising and smelt delicious, so I sat down, averting my eyes from my father. It tasted heavenly - spag-bol had always been my dad's specialty - and I wolfed it down hungrily, still ignoring the figure opposite me. He too was eating, but gloomily, as though he wasn’t hungry.

When I finished, he stood up and collected his plate before coming round my side of the table to pick up mine. He approached without care, seemingly forgetting about my little dilemma, and leaned close to me.

Memories of him leaning over me threateningly to hit me clouded my mind and I whimpered and cowered away, momentarily blinded by my memories. He stopped, froze for a moment and then sighed as he stepped back. I swallowed nervously, my heart still pumping, and he walked away.

He put his plate in the dishwasher, a frown on his face, and once he was out of the way I followed suit. I ran the dishwasher while dad made himself a coffee and I went into the living room and turned the TV on.

Sitting in front of it, I went through the recorded programmes and found QI recorded from last week. While dad had his coffee and relaxed in the kitchen, reading a newspaper or something, I watched QI. When it finished, I flipped through the channels and saw Eastenders was on, and they were talking about Christmas.

I didn't much like Eastenders, but it reminded me of something. Christmas was coming up in a week. My first thoughts were of presents, which was to be expected after five years of none whatsoever. My second was that it was now the Christmas holidays, which was a relief; it was Monday again tomorrow, and I had been dreading facing Nicola.

These thoughts weren’t too pleasant, so I went back to thinking about presents and considered what to get the Collins'. Sarah probably wanted some game or other; I resolved to ask Alex later. However, I had no clue what to get her brother or mother. I knew I should get something that symbolized my extreme thanks, but what?