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

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

I'm REALLY, REALLY sorry, I've been so slow! I'm back at school and have a lot of work to do, but also I had hell loads of writers block for this chapter. I'm really sorry :( Still, I hope it was worth the wait!

.:Story Start:.

The lack of sleep was definitely catching up with me.

No matter how many good things happened in my life, there would always be something ten times worse just afterwards. I lost sleep because of it. My dad was getting extremely violent, his need for alcohol completely consuming his rational thoughts - not that he seemed to have any to begin with.

I was constantly tired, never getting enough sleep, always going to bed at around 11, not getting to sleep until 1, waking up about seven times in the night then getting up at 6.30, 7.00 if I was lucky, only to have to endure either school or work, then going back home, having the usual 'appointment' with my so called father, then going to bed a couple of hours later.

Alex had noticed my exhausted state, and picked up on it on the Thursday of half term. No matter how much I told him not to worry, he would always come back, always try to make me feel better about whatever was bothering me.

I didn't want to tell him about The Accident, knowing I wouldn't be able to hold back the floodgates containing guilt that were stored away in a corner of my mind. I would most likely break down, and he would probably hate me for what I did - and didn't - do that night. And I couldn't have my only friend turn against me, even considering what happened.

It was Friday now. I was staring miserably into the bathroom mirror, tracing my cuts absently with my right forefinger. The shadows under my eyes were like extra bruises, hanging below orbs of blue that had somehow faded with gloominess, depression and exhaustion. It was a wonder I didn't drop asleep on the spot.

I sighed and plodded downstairs, not in the mood to eat breakfast but knowing Alex would reprimand me if I didn't. Sometimes he was annoyingly nice. I pulled out some cereal and milk and as the time went by, I stared into the bowl of soggy cornflakes, watching them slowly sink as I left them there.

The familiar knock on the door was the only thing that shifted me from the squashy foam seat as I dragged myself along the hallway to let Alex in. I opened the door, yawning, and waved sleepily at him.

"Morning," I said, standing aside. He raised an eyebrow.

"Liz, really, you can come round ours tonight to get some proper sleep-"

"No, it's fine, honestly-"

"Liz." Alex was adamant; I could see it in his face. He really was concerned about me.

"But-" he glared at me, and I sighed, slumping against the wall.

He prised me away from the wall and led me into the kitchen, and eyed the soggy cornflakes on the breakfast bar. He raised a 'what have I told you?' eyebrow and pointed at the bowl, before folding his arms and glaring at me.

"I'm not hungry, OK?"

"I bet you are, you just haven't got an appetite."

"Same THING!" I practically shouted at him, looking at him for a minute. Then, overcome with a wave of guilt, I sat on a bar stool and put my face in my hands, biting my lip to stop myself crying. Alex is my friend, don't shout at him...

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not trusting my voice. He wasn't angry - he just sat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

We sat for a while, me staring at the wall thinking about my dad's actions, which were getting steadily worse, while he tried to comfort me as best he could. I appreciated every word, but I just wished there was something that could be done...