My hair is brushed delicately from behind. I watch Alessia through the mirror, gazing as she concentrates on braiding my hair as carefully as she can. My throat feels tight as she combs her fingers through my black strands, but I blink my eyes and fight away the strong, unexpected emotions that suddenly rise to the surface.

"Such beautiful hair," she says in a soft voice.

I inhale a deep breath and quickly look down at my hands in an attempt to hide my watery eyes. Why couldn't I have a mother like Alessia? Why couldn't my mum do my hair and brush through it with such care? Why couldn't she just be a proper mum?

"I'm not pulling your hair, am I?" Alessia quickly asks. I lift my head and see her concerned expression. She must've noticed my tear-filled eyes.

Suddenly I'm embarrassed, but I try to remember Hayden's words. He always wipes my tears when I'm being emotional and assures me that crying is just a normal, human response.

"No," I tell her.

"Then what's wrong, poppet?" She quickly ties the end of my finished braid and crouches down before me.

"Nothing." I laugh to pretend that nothing's the matter, but there's no point in trying to hide it from Alessia. I'm only feeling more emotional as she speaks to me softly and comforts me.

"You can tell me anything," she assures me while giving my hands a squeeze.

I blow out and try to calm myself before I explain. The last thing I want is to start hysterically crying simply because she brushed my hair with such care. "I just wish I could've had a mum like you. All I ever wanted was for my mum to do these sorts of things with me."

"Oh, Sierra." She strokes my arms and looks at me sadly.

"Sorry. I didn't realise I'd get like this. I feel so stupid."

"Don't ever feel like that. It's not stupid at all, I understand." Alessia sighs and smiles sympathetically. "I've only heard a little about your mum. I'm sorry for the way she treated you. It's awful."

"It's fine."

"It's not. I never had the privilege of having a child. Finding that out was honestly the worst day of my life, and that's saying something, because I've been through some real shitty situations. All I ever wanted was to be a mother. To have that opportunity snatched from me...it's was awful. But if I ever had that chance, I'd never ever take it for granted. I couldn't imagine treating my child in such a way. If you were mine, I'd give you the world," she tells me honestly. "Your mother was lucky to have a daughter as sweet as you. But she had her chance and she lost it. And let me tell you, she missed out big time. One day she'll realise that."

The tears are fighting their way to escape, but I refuse to let them fall. "You really think that?"

"Absolutely," she whispers surely.

One tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. Alessia continues to hold my hand and rub my arm. "I'm sorry you couldn't have kids. I just know you would've been an amazing mother. It's not fair that you couldn't have that chance. I would give anything to have a mum like you."

The inner corners of her eyebrows pull up as sorrow and grief consumes her expression. "Thank you. That means a lot." She lets out a shaky breath and looks elsewhere as she thinks about something deeply. "Even when I was little, I wanted to be a mum. My parents got me a baby doll for my birthday when I was two. Apparently I would put her to bed and feed her a bottle. They only continued to buy me more dolls as I grew older. I remember singing to them and treating them all as my own. I told everyone it was my purpose in life. My friends made bets that I'd be the first to get pregnant. They all said that I would be the most loving mother out of them all."

My throat stings as I listen to her speak. She's still not looking at me. She's lost in her own thoughts and lost desires. I feel terrible. All I can do is hold her hand and allow her to let it all out, just like she did for me.

"I would've given anything. Anything." Her voice cracks and she has to take another deep breath. "I would've given my life to my kids. I would've done anything for them," she tells me desperately.

"I believe you," I assure her. "I know we'll never be your biological kids, but if you and my dad ever get married, I'd be happy to call you my stepmum."

With her eyes beginning to well, she smiles gratefully and gives my hands another squeeze. "If that were to happen, I'd be the luckiest woman alive."

"It'll happen," I whisper with a wink.

She chuckles. "I hope."

Me too.

A minute goes by. Everything seems to disappear. I'm in my own little world with Alessia, feeling dedicated to getting to know her. I've learned a lot today. I've found that my dad is in fact correct — not that I ever doubted him. Alessia really does have a kind soul. Even after all the hardships she's dealt with all by herself.

"What are your parents like?" I ask her. I assume they're amazing people for Alessia to turn out this way.

More sorrow washes over her face. I feel awful for bringing a reminder of another painful memory. I assumed they would be close.

"They were...incredible. They were everything someone could ask for in a parent. Gentle, kind, patient, considerate. They never yelled when I did something wrong, they simply helped and taught me right from wrong. Just such amazing people. Everyone thought so," she explains, her voice cracking from time to time.

Were. She's talking about them in past tense. I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means.

"They sound like brilliant parents. Are they still around?" I ask hesitantly.

She smiles to hide her pain, but her eyes betray her and showcase it all. She's falling apart inside. She shakes her head, I crumble inside for her.

"They were in a car crash before I turned twenty. I lost them."

An insane amount of sadness replaces my curious expression. Sadness for Alessia and all she has had to deal with in her lifetime. The loss of her parents, a man who broke promises and treated her like dirt, the news of finding out she could never have kids. It's just not fair. She deserves happiness and peace, I hope my dad can give her that and help her to heal from all this misery that no person should ever have to suffer.

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly. What can I say? There's no word in the dictionary that could ever express how utterly heartbreaking it all is. I place a hand on Alessia's shoulder. Suddenly I do something that I haven't done for a long time. I initiate a hug and wrap her in my arms where I soothe her back with my hand. She happily accepts it and hugs me back. I can practically see the smile on her heartbroken face.

"It's been a long time. I've accepted that things are the way they are. It's not too hard to speak about anymore. But the pain? It's never left me. There will never be a day that I don't miss them. I just wish we had more time."

"You deserved more time with them," I say. "No one should lose one parent that early, let alone both. You're so strong, I don't know how you're still you—how your still functioning and so joyful." I had one bad experience and allowed it to set me back further than I could ever imagine.

"I'll never be the girl I once was. She's gone. But from her, I've turned into the person I am now. She still lives inside me deep down, but I've grown stronger, I've learnt so many things." She holds my hands, like she knows. "It's okay to change, Sierra. We can never be who we were when we were teenagers. We're constantly changing. But that's not a bad thing. It just means a new chapter. To be happy with it, you have to accept and embrace it. If you're trying to be the person you once was, stop trying. Just relax, accept who you are now, understand your feelings, your triggers...work with it. Because if you hold yourself back and only focus on the past, you'll never grow. Focus on the present. On the you now."

Her advice starts to sink in. It makes sense. I haven't understood why it's been so hard for me to be myself and to enjoy the moments going on around me. But now I do. Now I understand. I've been so focus on who I used to be and how good things once were, I've lost myself in the past. I'm never focused on the present, I'm not enjoying these precious moments because of it. I need to let it all go. I need to find myself, I need to figure out this new version of who I am. Alessia is right. I'll never be her again. She's gone. Although it's upsetting, I know that a small part of her will always be with me. But now it's time to accept it and embrace the new version of myself. If I don't, I'll sink further and further until I'm desperate for a way out.

When Alessia leaves my room to join my dad who's just returned home from work, I grab pictures from a box I keep hidden in the back of my wardrobe. I keep them isolated there because I can't bare to look at them, yet I've never been able to let them go. The pictures hold people I'm no longer close to. I look through them one last time, remembering the good times that we once shared. But those memories no longer bring me happiness. It's not healthy for me to hold onto those when all they do is bring me down. I need to let go and move on. One by one, I crumble the photos in my hands and drop them into the bottom of my bin. I don't feel any sadness or despair. Only relief. I then grab all the objects that connect me to Peter. A hoodie, a card, more photos, a necklace. I hid them all away because I couldn't bring myself to part with them, even though all they ever brought me was disgust and anxiety. In all honesty, I don't know why I didn't get rid of all these painful memories to begin with.

I rip the hoodie and chuck the contents in the large bin outside, unable to have it in my room for any longer. The necklace falls in with it, along with all the other reminders of him. I feel stronger when I close the lid harshly, finally closing me off from them. They're gone forever, for good. I feel lighter because of it.

As soon as the lid is secure, I rush inside and run my hands under warm water where I spread a huge amount of soap over them. They feel contaminated, like part of him is on me. As soon as I wash the soap off and scrub my hands well with a towel, I let out a sigh of relief.

It's gone and replaced with everything he is not.