The Heart Shaped Bullet

Sunlight filters beneath my eyelashes as I open my eyes, making me wince and fling the covers over my head. Wait. Covers.  I pull it back, and sit bolt upright in a unfamiliar room. Then, realisation hits me like a brick over the head. This is Freddie's room. I freeze. Oh no.. I didn't.. did I? I tried to remember last night, yesterday even, but it was a blur.  I silently prayed that I hadn't just slept with the one boy I was meant to be keeping at arm's length, while slowly pulling back the duvet.  I was pleased to see clothes, but not my own.  Which told me precisely nothing.   I open the door, and head downstairs. The smell of food tugged at my stomach, and my mouth dried. What do I say to a boy that refuses to be sent away? Headstrong, obtuse... brave. I swatted the idea from my head. Then, I turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead.

Facing me was a man and woman, forks halfway to their mouths. Freddie was at the head of the table, clutching a knife half set into a chicken. Their eyes locked onto me, the father's outraged, the mother's concerned.  Freddie's were just horror.  I couldn't breathe.

The parents were yet to speak. " Her name is Erin, "  Freddie said, addressing his parents. I, on the other hand, tried not to scream. This was too close, too weird. This is another family I could ruin. They were just too perfect- the care, the love, emanated from every pore of their bodies.   I ran my fingers through my hair, hesitating for time while I stopped my head whirling and decided on what to say to stop them assuming I was a harlot.

The End

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