"What are you doing here?" Wednesday asked with furrowed brows as she stared back indignantly at the boy she had once thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with. How foolish of her.

"We didn't finish our conversation," Patrick shrugged, his hands in his pockets as if him appearing randomly at her door wasn't creepy and unnecessary.

"That's funny because I'm pretty sure we did," Wednesday bit back, the headache already throbbing in her skull not allowing her to fake any niceties in that moment.

She kept a firm hand on the door, not letting it fully open. A sense of anxiety started to rise at the situation as she knew there was going to be some form of confrontation.

"Well, I mean, you put the phone down on me before I'd finished speaking," he rebutted, his lips formed into a straight line.

"Because you were being rude," Wednesday replied, wondering if he'd smacked his head in the last 48 hours to explain him forgetting.

"Fine, I shouldn't have said what I said, but I was angry."

Wednesday rolled her eyes at the pathetic excuse, already done with his presence.

"Still no excuse."

"Can I just come in and talk to you about this?" he asked, sighing as if it was Wednesday being difficult here and not him.

"No."

"No?" he repeated, shaking his head as he looked taken aback.

"No, you're not coming in," she affirmed, holding her foot behind the door.

She felt and looked like shit and all she wanted to do was get a shower and watch rubbish films on Netflix. There was no patience left for Patrick and his discussions anymore, especially not today.

"So, you want to do this out in the street then, is that it?" he pushed.

"I'd rather not do it at all. There's nothing left to say."

He scowled, breathing out a shocked laugh. "What happened to make you like this?"

"Like what?" she asked with a bored expression, the pounding in her head creating a swirl of nausea in her stomach.

"Nasty and heartless," he replied quickly. "That isn't the Wednesday I used to know and love."

Wednesday closed her eyes, feeling the sudden build-up of uncontrollable emotions she'd forced down where Patrick was concerned. She knew sleeping with him again had been wrong and she'd apologised for it. All of this, however, was unnecessary and she was starting to find it harder and harder to hold back her own rage.

"Well maybe that's because she never existed."

"Bullshit. You used to be kind and caring and now you're just selfish."

She breathed through her nose, literally and figuratively biting her tongue to prevent anything from spilling out. Her cheeks were flushed hot from the effort, the devil on her shoulder willing her into speaking.

"You can't even deny it. You've changed for the worst. No wonder you're so lonely you had to come crawling back."

That was it. The final straw. Her eyes flew open as she stared at him with a venomous look and she was sure her already dark brown eyes would now be raven black.

"Listen. I've said sorry for what I did, there's no excuses. But that doesn't give you the right to come here, to my house and start giving abuse to me because you feel butthurt."

Patrick made a move to open his mouth in rebuttal, but her hand snapped up, gesturing for him to stay silent. He'd talked enough—this was her time now.

"But actually, you are right about something. I have changed. I've grown to become a more selfish person because do you know what I've discovered? The only person who will love me unconditionally is me. So no, I won't be taking shit from people who claim to care for me anymore. And I guess I should be thanking you for that. You spent so much time in our relationship making me doubt myself or making me feel guilty for nothing and when we broke up, I finally saw how toxic that relationship was once and for all."

Patrick stood with his mouth wired shut, like he was a toddler getting a telling off from a parent. The redness in his face told Wednesday he was embarrassed, but she pushed on regardless.

"So, thank you Patrick, for showing me exactly what I don't deserve from someone. If it weren't for you, I might still be the girl letting other people make her feel bad. Now if you don't mind, I'm kindly asking that you fuck off away from my house and out of my life for good."

She turned and slammed the door shut not even a second later, letting out the biggest breath she'd ever held. Her hands were shaking from the adrenaline of the conversation and she daren't turn around to see if he was still stood there. Instead, she marched back upstairs and headed straight to the bathroom, fingers jittery as she turned on the shower tap.

A few minutes later, she stood still under the running showerhead, letting the warm water splash onto her head and run down her body as she kept her eyes wired shut. Her brain felt hazy as it desperately tried to process all the emotions she'd felt in such a short space of time. Grief, pain, sadness, anger. Her rude awakening and the subsequent confrontation had left her feeling just as exhausted as she had the day before. And truthfully, the entire week before that too. She couldn't remember what it felt like to not feel so exhausted all the time.

After she'd stepped out of the shower and got dressed, throwing on comfy joggers, a hoodie and big fluffy socks, she quietly padded to the kitchen and looked into the fridge, a grimace curling over her lips as she stared at the bare shelves, bar one mouldy orange. Even the milk was off, meaning she couldn't have a cup of tea and though it was a small issue that could have been easily rectified, she felt like it was another blow to her already fragile mental state.

Going back to the living room, she threw herself down onto the sofa and turned on the TV as she took out her phone. No messages. She breathed out sharply through her nose as she bit the inside of her lip, before going back to her contacts as she stared at Harrys name in her phone. All she had to do was hit call. Her finger hovered over the screen as she willed herself to press down.

Just fucking hit the call button.

But then as her eyes quickly flicked to the news on the TV, she noticed the date. The 29th of December. And her resolve faltered. He was on holiday now.

Harry and a few of his friends had planned a week-long trip to Anguilla ages ago to ring in the New Year. He'd kindly asked her if she'd wanted to go earlier in the year, but it had been just before her and Patrick had broken up and she'd stupidly thought they would have worked things out by then and would have something planned for the occasion. Another foolish hope from her.

There was no way she could call him now, not while he was away with his friends in the Caribbean, drinking, relaxing and having fun. Sighing, she knew she'd have to wait until the new year now to contact him.

Furrowing her brows as she looked at the tv, she realised she had no plans herself for New Years Eve. Zara was away in Dubai, no doubt with an extravagant night out planned for it; Mitch and Sarah were back in America at his parents; her own mum was spending the night with friends. Wednesday knew that she could realistically ask any of the outer circle of friends she kept to join their celebrations, but there was something desperate and sad about the thought of doing that. Plus, she knew she'd never enjoy a night like that. It would leave her sad as opposed to happy, watching couples kiss as the clock struck 12 and the friends, closer than her, hug and celebrate together.

Defeatedly, she laid there on the sofa for hours, flicking through the channels monotonously until the grumble in her stomach got too loud to ignore. Opening up her food app, she ordered a takeaway (double the servings, so she'd have some for her dinner later) along with a bottle of wine and ate it once it had arrived as she sat in her large, warm, yellow throw and watched The Notebook on Netflix. But not even the romance between Ally and Noah could lift her spirits.

She felt deflated, in every way possible.

/

this is a short chapter BUT it will have a part two coming tomorrow night so keep your eyes peeled for that! it's going to be a tear jerker...