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idea that I should have more experience. It’s a fool who pretends she understands all her own motives, but from his perspective my reaction to spending the rest of my life with him wasn’t encouraging.
    A tear formed in my eye for the solitaire diamond ring I never saw. I brushed it away.
    This lying in bed in the dark, the hourly texts – had I just been playing at someone who was heartbroken in a typically teenage way?
    I bit down on my lip and caressed the places on my body where he’d last whipped me.
    What was love anyway?
    That sweet, sickly smell that intoxicated every breath.
    Limbs entwined under twisted sheets.
    Fingers probing, scratching, knowing my most private orifices.
    A smile over the breakfast table containing everything we’d done in the night.
    A small gesture, his hand brushing across my nipple.
    A big movement, the weight of his body crushing the air out of my lungs.
    His lips pressed against mine.
    Everything feeling like a dream.
    Feeling that all my life before knowing him was a dream.
    Glancing him out of the corner of my eye and sensing that we’d always been together.
    Falling together into the darkness, our bodies wrapped around each other.
    Not being alone.
    I was struck with a sudden resolve.
    We would have this break. I would play with other people. Then I would return to him and we’d be stronger. He would get down on his knees and ask me to marry him. I’d say yes. We’d get married on a beach in the Caribbean, watched by strangers. We’d fuck in the sand watched by strangers. And we’d live happily ever after. That was how this would work. I was certain.

Chapter Four - New
    Dean had never argued with Helena before, not properly, not shouting at each other, not feeling the hate surge through him as if it was a physical thing that could punch through his skin.
    It seemed so petty afterwards. All the things she’d circled in those glossy wedding magazines: £20 for a tiny candle for each guest; £1000 for a sponge cake; £3000 for an engagement ring. And that was before she’d gone through the supplements on perfect venues.
    He’d treated it like a joke. That was a mistake. He picked up a sheet of paper where she was making menu lists. ‘Who are you planning to invite, the royal family and their friends? The people we know will spend five minutes guzzling through “smoked Barbary duck with apricot dressing”, then me and you will be eating baked beans for the rest of our life trying to pay off the debt.’
    She hadn’t laughed.
    Weeks later, thinking about the look she gave him still made his stomach tighten.
    He couldn’t remember all the words; he blanked them from his mind. Just the desire she had to verbally hurt and wound him, and how he reciprocated with equal venom. There was an unfamiliar power in fighting; if she was screaming about how physically unattractive he was, then he could say her perfume made him feel sick.
    It was liberating, he could almost feel the words bubbling in his mouth. ‘I don’t want to marry you.’ His heart beat fast; he waited for her to say something that would warrant and justify his reply.
    But her anger and accusations turned into whimpers and tears. He couldn’t shout back, he couldn’t defend himself, when she was crying.
    ‘Do you love me, Dean?’ She hid her face in her hands. ‘Do you love me? Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?’
    ‘Of course I do.’ He put his arms around her and pulled her body into his. ‘How can you doubt it?’
    There was no pause in his response. It was afterwards, through many sleepless nights, that he realised that had been his opportunity to be honest, to say he had no idea what he felt, that he was scared, that the idea of marrying her gave him no happiness and that had to be wrong.
    Instead, since that argument, he’d made every effort to please her. In the little he recalled, Helena had said the worst things, but it was him who apologised, it was him who was heavy with