Time is relative. The passage of time, were it to be measured by human perception alone, would be the least accurate entity in the whole of the universe. As if it weren't difficult enough, when emotions are added to the mix, the result—pure chaos.

Tressi sat at the edge of her bed looking out her bedroom window. The changing colour of the sky went unseen in her unfocused gaze.

Edda. Des. Edda. Des. Past. Future. Past. Future.

What had started out as a mild throbbing headache, had now morphed into a full blown migraine, with her head feeling like it was supporting a ton of bricks. She didn't know how long she'd sat there; she hadn't noticed when Des had left the room. All she knew was that, in that second, she was alone.

Utterly alone.

Then she remembered—Des wasn't her only option. There was someone else who'd promised to help her, who'd let her know she wasn't alone in this. She grabbed her phone and dialled Mrs. Lepoci's number, holding her breath.

There was no answer.

So she tried again, and after it'd rung for quite some time, Mrs. Lepoci finally picked up. "Hullo... Who's this?"

Mrs. Lepoci's voice was groggy and thick with sleep, not to mention—the annoyance was pretty clear too. Tressi then realised she had no idea what the time was. She looked at the clock to see that it was six in the morning; daylight had broken through. She was pissed at herself for not checking the time before calling.

"Mrs. Lepoci? It's me, Tressi. I'm so sorry for calling this early, I didn't realise what the time was. I'll let you go back to sleep. So sorry again," she spoke quickly.

"Oh no, no dear. It's no trouble, don't worry 'bout it. Is everything alright?" Mrs. Lepoci sounded more awake.

"Everything's fine, I was just returning the call you made last night. I should've checked the time, I'm so sorry," Tressi apologised again, cursing herself internally.

"It's fine dear, I'm usually up by now. I just called to check up on you. I was worried; I wanted to make sure you were okay and to ask if you'd found anything helpful from Andrew's notes."

"There's quite a lot of information there, Mrs. Lepoci. I haven't had the chance to go through it all. It's...hard, this stuff. And things here are... not the most ideal..." she trailed off, trying not to cry.

"What's wrong, dear?"

The way Mrs. Lepoci asked the question, it wasn't the curt, 'What's wrong?' her mother used to ask—the one to which she never wanted to answer because it felt like the question was only a formality, a hindrance. This time though, Tressi wanted to answer; she wanted to tell her everything that was wrong. However, she just said, "It's just work stuff, Mrs. Lepoci. It's very hectic here. Can I call you back later? I'll have to get ready for school soon."

"Oh okay. You can talk to me about anything. You know that, don't you, Tressi?"

"Of course," she whispered, not wanting her voice to break. "Thank you for checking on me."

"It's a pleasure, sweetie."

She hung up and the tears that she'd been struggling to hold back broke free as she sat watching the sun climb higher and higher up in the morning sky.

*
When Tressi finally went downstairs, it was eight-thirty and it was fully bright outside. She walked into the kitchen and her breath caught in her throat; Des was standing at the counter with a coffee mug in his hand. He took her appearance in wordlessly, and Tressi wondered what he saw—hair in complete disarray, dark circles which now had a purple tinge to them, pale and tired face.

Des was the first to break the silence. "Mr. Coram called the landline. He said your phone was switched off."

School. Midterms.

She'd completely forgotten all about it. Glancing down at the phone in her hand, she pressed the lock button to see that the battery had died, while Des continued, "I told him you were taking a sick day. I hope that's alright. I didn't think you'd be able to go today."

"Yeah," she mumbled. There was no way she'd be able to work.

Des set the mug on the counter and walked towards her as Tressi held her breath. He stopped inches away and pushed the hair out of her eyes, gently cupping her face. "How are you feeling?" He asked, not taking his eyes away from hers.

"F-fine."

Des let out a sigh at her answer and looked away, his face pensive. "Can we talk?" he asked, gesturing Tressi to take a seat at the dining table as he sat down himself.

She nodded and walked to the table with stiff limbs. As she gripped the edge of the chair to sit down, her hands trembled.

Des let out another audible sigh, "About what happened yesterday—"

"I'm sorry I haven't given you the answer you want, Des. I want to. I really do. But I just..."

"Can't," he finished the sentence for her.

Silence stretched on for what felt like eternity to Tressi, but in fact was only moments. Des nodded to himself, looking down at the table, as his brows furrowed in concentration.

When he looked back up at her, his face was smooth; she could see determination in his eyes. "I've been thinking about this the whole night Tress"—she knew it was the wrong detail to focus on, but his renewed use of the short form instead of her full name gave her a jolt of happiness and she almost missed what he said next—"and firstly, I want to apologise. I acted rashly, I shouldn't have been so hard on you—"

"You weren't—"

"No. I was. Let me finish. I shouldn't have flipped out on you like that. It's just, I hate it that you kept all this from me. I hate it when I feel like you're sneaking around. But now I've realised, it's my fault really. I obviously haven't made it feel safe for you to come to me when you have a problem and that's on me completely. I can see how much this is stressing you out, and I hate that I've been trying to make you choose—"

"Des, you haven't—"

"No, Tress," he said, getting up from his chair and moving closer. He knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his, "We've been going about this the wrong way. I have been going about this the wrong way. It's stupid to make you choose when it's obvious you don't have a choice really. And I haven't been nearly as supportive as I should've been. So I've decided—the only way we're gonna deal with this is by getting to the bottom of it. That's the only way to move on. You had it right the first time and this time round I'm gonna help you. You're going to Lapec and I'm coming with you."