Two nights spent on the streets and I was bitterly cold. My clothes were comfortable but I had only put them on to spend time around the house. They were never meant to keep me warm. I did what I could: pulled my arms tight around me, curled up into myself in corners. It didn’t make much difference, but it was enough for me to get a few brief moments of sleep before I would wake, shivering violently with my skin tingling and crawling in the darkness.

Two days spent watching the house for signs of Cadie. Waiting for the moment when Jack would leave and I could go and check on her. I snuck into one of the bushes at the side of the house. A little painful but it kept me hidden and gave me a good view of the house. I sat and waited, falling asleep occasionally in the warmth of the day.

Eventually, the door opened and Jack walked out, large bags in his hands which he loaded into the car. I shifted backwards slightly, making sure I was completely hidden and waited until he got in and the car pulled out of the drive. The window to the lounge was unlocked so I crept in and up the stairs, heading to my room first to get my things. The door creaked as it opened and I looked behind me to see if anyone had heard it. No one came out so I turned back and found the room empty. Walking inside it was clear that all of my stuff was gone. The furniture remained but all the personal touches, the posters on the walls, the trinkets I had collected, all of it. I pulled the wardrobe doors open with a vague hope that they had just stored things there, but it was also empty. My clothes were gone, my music, my photographs, everything that had been my home just ripped away. My photographs. Panic gripped my and I ran over to the bed, throwing back the pillows but finding nothing.

I sank to the floor, turning so my back rested against the bed. Cadie was eyeing me from the doorway, a dark bruise covering the right of her face.