27 | decisions to make

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Back in my dormitory that evening, I sunk into my bed, deciding to skip dinner because of my sudden loss of appetite. Meg had been absent ever since my return, and I was glad that I could sit in quiet for a while to think about the recent events.

Tearing open the envelope, I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. I immediately recognised Tommy's swirly scrawl, and my shoulders relaxed.

Hey kiddo,

Was going to call but I can't get my head around the time zones and I didn't know if you'd be free, so this seemed a little easier! We all miss you but I want you to know that your dad and I are so proud of you for sticking out this school thing. We knew you could do it. Keep working hard, I know that you can come out of that school with great results if you put the effort in. You always were a little smart-ass! Your dorm leader has been keeping us in the loop and she says you're still doing great — well done you!
We are all okay here; Owen has made a new friend in his class so he's pretty happy at the minute. Anyway, I won't keep you for too long, just wanted a little catch up. Don't rush writing back, I know you're not one for letters...
All our love,
Dad, Dad & Owen
(P.S, I hope you're feeling a little better about that girl we spoke about over Xmas. I know you weren't sure what to do about her, but I hope everything worked out okay. If not, don't worry, plenty more fish in the sea!)

I read and re-read the letter three times over, though I wasn't quite sure why. The last part of it caused a ripple of anxiety to wash over me; I'd forgotten that I'd ever even told my dad about the situation (leaving out the part that it was my teacher I was hopelessly in love with, of course).

With my head buzzing noisily with thoughts, I grabbed a towel and headed to the showers, desperate for a strike of brilliance to hit me whilst under the steamy jets.

It was deserted in there as everyone else was at dinner, and I undressed and placed my clothes on the hook of the cubicle door. I turned the faucet, my muscles relaxing under the heat that showered over me. I tried desperately to think of something genius, something that would solve all of my problems, but I was disappointed once again. I pressed my forearms against the wall and dipped my head. I suddenly felt like the whole world was on top of me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

A loud, unexpected sob escaped from my lips, followed my a stream of tears that mixed with the hot water already running down my face. I knew I was crying, but I wasn't even sure exactly why. Despite that, it felt needed, and I allowed my shoulders to sag as I sobbed harder and harder with each passing moment. Eventually, I turned and slid my back down against the wall and sat onto the ledge, leaning forwards to place my head in my hands. The mess that I had somehow created was suffocating me, wrapping its poisonous hands around my throat and getting tighter and tighter with each thought that passed through my mind.

And then I stopped crying.

The realisation hit me like shockwaves, and for a few moments my mind was blank, as though it didn't know how to respond. It was clear as day, and though the answer was a difficult one to face, it was the right one. I was still in love with Alexandra Bowen, and Harriet was not the person that could make me forget her. Maybe nothing could. I think I knew all along, but I was too terrified to admit it. The fear of not only getting hurting myself, but of hurting Harriet, had blocked out those feelings, but they were always there, deep down.

Recently I'd been questioning myself; did I love Harriet? Surely I must do... But that was the exact point I should have realised I didn't. If I had to question it, then it wasn't love. If there was doubt, then it wasn't love. And there was doubt, and there was questioning, and that was all the answers I needed.

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