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When she showed up at his door, tears leaving black tracks of makeup down her face, he didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't even question how she had come to be there, on his doorstep, at an impossible time of night. He ushered her inside and sat her down, offered her tea, coffee, water? She settled for brandy. What eighteen-year-old drinks brandy? He ran her a bath and she sank into it gratefully. He brought her a piece of toast with his best strawberry jam and still asked no questions. When she was done, he handed her a big fluffy towel and cuccooned her, swaddling her like a child. He led her to his bedroom and slipped his biggest shirt over her head and folded back the duvet. She slid into his bed and he tucked her in and wiped the last smudge of makeup from under her eye with his thumb. He left a cup of water on the bedside table in his favourite mug. He perched on the edge of the bed until her eyelids fluttered shut and her breathing was relaxed into soft snuffles. He gently held her fingers in his hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He grabbed a blanket on his way out and made a bed for himself on the couch.

Empty

I want to hold myself together
So my insides don't fall out.
I don't feel so well
But I'm not much cop
As an empty shell

Creep

The stone walls are sticky and I can hear a dripping tap. I'm crumpled in the corner and everything is dark as coal. Iron invades my nostrils and I can taste salt on my tongue. My forehead is damp, maybe with sweat. Something is dried in my hair, making it crunch under my nervous fingers. My eyes dart around the room and I see a shape on the ceiling. I can't make it out. I've been ignoring it for hours. I swear I saw it twitch. My tongue feels too big in my mouth. I look up again. Two shining eyes are staring right back at me.