Junkmail

10:03 [SC] -- Good morning, it appears I do have your number. How's your day been?

10:07 [EJ] -- Uneventful, I'm currently browsing YouTube videos on company time. There are a lot of special idiots in the world.

10:21 [SC] -Try living with one!

10:48 [EJ] -- That doesn't sound good... you wanna talk about it?

10:54 [SC] -- I wouldn't want to bore you with my troubles. Thank you though.

11:12 [EJ] -- Don't be daft, I have nothing better to do today than watch YouTube videos and make chains out of my paperclips. I may as well be of use to someone.

11:36 [SC] -- I've been with my partner for about 7 years? Things have been a bit tough going at the moment. We're arguing constantly, over the most stupid things. I'm beginning to forget why it is we fell in love some days because there are times when I really cannot stand the sight of her.

11:47 [EJ] -- Well shit, I didn't realise you were gonna go on like that...

11:52 [SC] -- Sorry! I told you I didn't want to bore you with my problems!

11:54 [EJ] -- Calm yourself, I'm kidding. You're too easy to wind up! Seriously, I don't know you or her or the situation but if things are as bad as you say. Then something needs to change.

12:01 [SC] -- You're right, it's just easier said than done.

March 5^th

13:01 [SC] -- Happy Saturday dork! Just been for a beast of a run and come home to a lecture about how I have no time for Becca. Please save me from losing the will to live!

13:03 [EJ] -- Sweet, how many miles you clock this time? You seriously need to speak to her Sophie! Lay everything out on the table, about how unhappy you are. Because I would put money on the fact she's probably just as unhappy as you.

13:07 [SC] -- You're pep talks are on point(!) -- Note the sarcasm. I try, but whenever we begin to have an open and honest conversation she gets upset and it usually ends up costing me money. Just 13 miles, but it's actually a pretty nice day down here so it seemed a shame to waste it.

13:13 [EJ] -- Just 13 miles, she says... like it's normal to do it every day. You're a fucking machine -- take that as you will (; What do you mean it usually costs you money?

13:18 [SC] -- I will, my mind is running wild! (; Well, I'm just the worst at confrontation, so when the tears start flowing. My credit card usually starts a sob fest of its own. Becca is... materialistic? She likes nice things. I can usually placate her with a new watch, or a new bag or perfume or... well there was the one time she talked me into getting her a new car...

13:25 [EJ] -- Sorry, just go back a second, you bought her a car? That must've been a nuclear size blow up if it cost you a fucking car! Jesus man, you are so whipped.

13:47 [SC] -- Fuck you, I'm not whipped!

13:53 [EJ] -- Sounds like something someone who's whipped would say...

14:01 [SC] -- You're such a dick.

14:03 [EJ] -- But yet you keep coming back for more...

I grin at my phone screen, remembering just how comfortable she made me feel from the get go. The way she would listen to me complain for hours about Becca, how she would just let me go on and on about how unhappy I was. She'd comfort me, but she was never shy about giving me hell when I was in the wrong or being stupid about things.

I ache, I ache so much it almost consumes me. There have been so many nights when I've been lying next to my girlfriend, Becca always sleeps with her back to me now. Since coming back from Scotland I can't stand her touch, so I've turned her away as much as I can without it raising suspicion. And the times where I can't deter her, the feeling of her hands on me, the way my skin crawls when she kisses me; it makes me feel even worse.

"What are you smiling at?" Becca asks as she strolls onto the veranda, a sheer robe clinging to her curves. I can tell she's naked beneath, the way her nipples strain against the delicate material tells me that. Last night was one of the nights I couldn't put her off, I push the thought of that away and focus on composing my face and looking at her demurely.

"Nothing, just thinking. You sleep well?" I ask sincerely, she stretches languidly and moves to sit in my lap. Her fingers go to the short hairs at the back of my neck and she plays with them lovingly. I swallow down the bile that begins to rise, and smile as sincerely as I can at her. Her blues eyes meet mine and she dips her head to kiss me softly.

She hums in approval as she breaks away and grins dopily at me "I slept amazingly, I don't know if it's the time difference or all the sex. But I was so tired last night."

I laugh dryly and push her off of me so I can stand, unable to bear her touch any longer "Bec, we're an hour behind France, it's not like we're on a different continent." I can see she's about to argue with me but I cut her off quickly "Why don't you order yourself some breakfast, I'm gonna jump in the shower and then we can decide what we do today." I reason with her backing away quickly, Becca raises an eyebrow at me suggestively and rakes her eyes lazily up and down my body.

"Want some company?" She purrs, my hand goes to the back of my neck and I rub it nervously.

"Any other time, yes. But if we start that now we'll never leave the room and there's a whole city out there to see." Good, well saved. Now, just to make my escape without looking like I'd rather be anywhere but here and I'm in the clear for now. I need to fix this, it isn't healthy, for either of us. And poor Ella has been so good about the whole mess, what the fuck am I going to do?

Ella -- June 23^rd

The last couple of weeks have been hell, I've never felt emptiness like this before. I can't tell this to the one person I want to, because she's the reason I'm feeling so helpless, and I can't try and push her into making a decision or hurry her into talking to Becca. This is a choice she has to make on her own, I want this too badly to force her hand and rush her through it. I know if she doesn't make this choice, if she doesn't choose us herself it'll wither and die.

I also know that if she doesn't choose me, if she doesn't choose us, that I'll be ruined for anyone else. Fuck, I sound like some whiney protagonist from a shitty Rom-Com movie my ex-girlfriend used to make me watch. Even though we still talk daily, it's as if the natural easy flow of our conversations has gone. I keep telling myself it's just the strain of the situation, that things will fix themselves once this weight has lifted from over the two of us. But right now, I'm not convincing myself anymore.

I pick my phone up, staring at the message icon, feeling deflated when I see there's no little red bubble on the green square, showing me there's no new message. Nothing from Sophie. Why should there be though? She's flown off to Paris with Becca, think about it, how do I even know for sure she's going to talk to her about everything? Seems pretty unlikely now that they're currently enjoying a weekend break in one of the most romantic cities in the world.

Fuck, I feel like such an idiot. I'm stupid for letting myself run away with this ridiculous notion that she feels the same way, that there is some chance for a future for us. Angry, hurt, lonely and a little drunk -- I tap the message icon, select her name and begin typing furiously.

22:17 [EJ] -- I know you're busy. I know you're on holiday, but you need to hear me.

I read the few words back and immediately erase them, a text message isn't the way to discuss this. I take a different angle, I'll be honest with her, take a softer approach and just make her aware that I'm still here for her. Waiting oh so patiently for her to make her fucking mind up.

22:19 [EJ] -- I know you're away, and things are difficult at the moment, but I just wanted to let you know that I miss you and I'm thinking about you. I'm actually doing both those things more than I care to admit, it's rather pathetic. Talk soon... xx

There, that wasn't so difficult, now I just need to wait for her to get back in touch and I'm sure the best place for that is in bed where I can at least try and sleep. If I'm asleep I'm not going to be drinking myself into a stupor.

Climbing beneath the covers, I set my phone ringer on, if by chance Sophie does call and I'm out of it; I at least want to be able to answer it. Checking my messages one last time, hopeful to see the three grey dots that show she's texting back, and feeling that familiar stab of disappointment when they're not there. I put my phone underneath my pillow and let my eyes close, sleep won't come easy. But it's better than being awake and feeling like this all the fucking time.

Ella -- June 24^th

I don't know what time it is when I open my eyes, the familiar timber tones of my mobile ringing out loudly beneath my pillow wakes me and for a split second I think it's my alarm going off and waking me to get ready for work. That's when the taste of last nights whiskey binge makes its presence known in my mouth, and the throbbing in my head reminds me that it's Saturday. And that isn't my alarm going off, it's a phone call.

I reach under my pillow like a crazed woman, and one look at who it is and I feel my heart soar. I feel lighter than I have in days at the mere thought of hearing her voice. My fingers are clumsy as I try and answer the call, my throat is still thick with sleep and hangover and it takes a few attempts to clear it before I can talk. But I raise the phone to my ear, impatient to hear Sophie's voice.

"Sophie? It's so good to hear from you, are you ok?" I ask, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a rushed blur.

I hold my breath as there's an uncharacteristic silence on the other end of the line, I can hear the wind blowing breezily through the handset and the distant sounds of traffic in the background, I'm about to talk again when I hear something that makes my blood run cold and bile rise in my throat. Last night's purge threatens to make a reappearance but I swallow it back as I listen "Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you thinking about my girlfriend?"

"Excuse me?" I ask quietly, sitting bolt right up in bed, the covers gather around my waist as I try and ignore the ringing in my ears and the pounding rate of my heart.

I hear her sigh loudly through the phone before continuing on in a hushed tone "Don't play stupid, you heard what I said. Who are you?" I open my mouth to reply but she cuts me off "Actually I don't give a fuck, listen to me you fucking slag, stay away from Sophie. Stop with the texts, the phone calls. Stop everything, she isn't interested. I know this because she's just asked me to marry her. So back off." And as quick as it came, the call disconnected, leaving me with alone and holding a silent mobile against my clammy cheek.

I stay frozen like that, eyes wide, phone held in my hand pressed against my ear; for a good length of time. I want to cry, I want to scream and shout and throw things, but I don't. I don't move, I don't make a sound and the tears don't come. Married? Sophie's getting married? This can't be true, she wouldn't do that. She doesn't even like Becca... but why would she lie?

I feel emptiness encompass the entire inside of my being, the space where my heart once beat is now replaced with a gaping void of hurt, loneliness and longing for the one thing it was once beating for. I've been a fool, I've been a damnable idiot in letting myself get swept away with these feelings I let myself give in to.

Limb by limb I slowly move, dropping my hand down to my side, allowing the phone to fall to the mattress. I stretch my legs out in front of me, flexing my toes to get the blood flowing through them again. Gradually I remind myself that I've got to get moving, I need to get out of bed, make breakfast, check my emails. Life must go on, with or without Sophie. I wish it was the former, but she's made her choice. And it wasn't me.

Sophie -- June 26^th

The report in front of me isn't holding the same interest for me as it may have done last week. Since getting back from Paris on Sunday, Becca's been acting weirder than usual and Ella's been ignoring me. It's like she's just disappeared into thin air, no matter how many times I've called, no matter how many messages I've left or sent, I've had nothing back. I'm worried about her, worried somethings happened, I'm in two minds whether I should go up there and check on her. Just to be sure she's ok, and then I can come home.

This week is going to be hard enough without this added pressure, the weight I feel crushing my chest is getting heavier every single day and I find myself struggling to breathe. I plan on speaking to Becca tonight, I've picked up the keys to my new flat, I've picked out furniture. I just need to take my clothes. She can keep everything else, I don't want it. I want a clean break, I think it'll be the best thing for the both of us, I just need to man the fuck up and tell her it's over and it has been for a while.

Time drags by, my eyes keep finding their way to the clock on the wall in my office. The way the ticking noise fills the room obnoxiously makes the skin at the back of my neck prickle in frustration. Becca tries ringing me a few times, each time I hit the silent button and watch as my phone dances across the dark wood of my desk, eyes fixed on the screen as I purposely ignore the woman who's life I'm about to turn upside down.

I can't stop feeling guilty, I want to talk myself out of it and make myself give it another go and really try this time. But then I give myself the mental slap round the face I need and force myself to stick to my guns this time and tell her it's over.

The drive home is unbearable, for the first time in my adult life I almost wish for traffic to be horrendous. But just my luck, the roads are almost clear when I leave, even the traffic lights seem to be against me tonight! As I pull into the drive outside my home, the house I've lived for the last four years, I feel unshed tears burn in my eyes as the gravity of what I'm about to do hits me. The new set of keys in my hand bag feel as though they weigh a thousand pounds as I carry my bag inside with me and set it down next to the door.

I catch my reflection in the mirror in the hall and move my eyes away almost instantly, not even wanting to look at myself. I don't think I'd recognise the person looking back at me if I was to stop and study myself closer, "Becca?" I call out as I walk cautiously down the hall. I can smell cooking and feel even worse when I realise she must've cooked dinner. Becca never cooks, only on special occasions, this thought has me thinking about the date. It doesn't coincide with anything that we should be celebrating, so why is she cooking?

I walk through to the living room and stop in the doorway, Becca's stood in the middle of the room wearing a little black number that leaves very little to the imagination. I swallow thickly at the sight of her, I may be about to tell her I'm leaving, but that doesn't mean that I don't still find her extremely attractive. Seeing her with her hair falling down her shoulders in its natural curl, the smooth material of her dress clinging to her every curve almost makes me change my mind about the whole thing and giving this another go.

And then my conscience reminds me of Edinburgh, and Ella and my heart drops into my stomach and I take a step forward "We need to talk..." I say, my voice sounding calmer than I feel. My palms are clammy, my stomachs reeling, my head feels as though there's a jackhammer chipping away at my brain, causing it to rattle against the sides of my skull and create such pressure that it hurts to even blink.

Becca holds a hand out for me and smiles softly "We do, I have something I want to say." Shit, I take a precarious foot forward and ignore her extended hand, folding my arms across my chest and begin chewing at the inside of my cheek. Becca watches me and drops her hand "What is it Sophie? You look as though you've just ran over the neighbours kid."

"I'm moving out." There, I've said it, it's out there. I just needed to rip it off quickly like a wax strip, except instead of the smooth, satin finish one would expect from such treatment. I feel like I've just ripped it away from my bikini line and left half the wax behind, those three words hurt me to say more than I thought they would, but the second they're out there; I feel free.

Becca's mouth twists in distaste, her hands run through her hair and she rocks back and forth on her feet nervously. Until she stops, her entire demeanour changes, she pushes her shoulders back and juts out her chin in defiance. She looks confident and sure of herself within a split second, the change is so quick it almost gave me whiplash "No you're not, I'm asking you to marry me. We're gonna get married. You're not leaving Sophie." She says it so matter of factly it takes me a moment to process what it is she's actually said, she wants to get married? Is she serious? The hilarity of this situation causes laughter to erupt inside of me, I bite down hard on my lip to try and stop it from bubbling over, but it's too late. It's already out and in the blink of an eye, I'm doubled over, my hands resting on my knees, my hair falling across my cheeks, tears roll down to my chin. And I laugh louder than I have done in years. "What are you laughing at?" Becca snaps impatiently as I stand up and try and compose myself, I catch the cold, distant look in her eyes and that does everything to sober me up.

Soon enough this doesn't seem funny to me anymore, this isn't amusing, this is serious, she was serious. "I'm not marrying you Becca, this, us..." I pause and nervously run my tongue across my bottom lip "We're not working anymore, we haven't been for a while and it isn't fair on either of us to drag this out much longer. You need to be..."

"Are you going to her?" She spits out at me, the way she says that last word, the way it's so coated in malice and hurt. She knows. She fucking knows and she wanted to marry me anyway?

"What are you talking about?" I ask, afraid of what it is she's going to say.

"Your whore in Scotland, I've seen the messages. I've spoken to her, told her to back off. You. Are. Mine Sophie. Do you understand that?" Becca closes the distance between us and fists her hand in my hair, pulling it back so hard tears spring to my eyes, I grasp her wrist tightly in an attempt to pull her away from me but this only enrages her more. Her right hand, balled into a fist, flies into my cheek hard. My head should've whipped to the side with the force of the contact, but her hand is holding my hair so tightly, it's impossible.

Quicker than I can comprehend, both of her hands go to my throat and she forces me back into the wall behind me, the back of my head hitting the brick hard. Shooting pain ricochets through my skull and I can hear myself croaking out what almost sounds like a plea for help. Becca is a couple inches shorter than me, but that doesn't deter her brutality, her dexterous fingers squeezing my throat tightly. My own fingers claw at her hands as I struggle for air "I love you Sophie, I forgive you. But you are not leaving."