Page 7 of Werewolf Heart

Sara picks herself up from the wall, washes her hands, does her business on the toilet, then cleans herself as best she can.

Physically, anyway. Whatever’s going inside her head needs much more upkeep than she can afford.

Sara has been in love with Robert for a very long time.

It all started very slow. Almost quiet. She didn’t even notice how attached she was till they were close to graduating secondary school. Robert was indecisive. He wasn’t sure London would suit him.

“What if I get lost riding the tube?” He agonised. “What if I have an anxiety attack on my way to lectures? What if I have shitty roommates who don’t clean after themselves?”

And on and on he went. He got like that when things became too overwhelming. She couldn’t blame him. God knows she’s had her fair share of spiralling thoughts. However, Sara couldn’t let him go. The thought of never seeing him again caused her too much anguish.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that,” she told him. “Because if you go, you’re staying with me.”

A desperate act for a desperate girl.

Well, a few years in London sorted that out. Once Robert started to come out of his shell, once he flourished into the exciting young man she knew he was, things turned frosty between them.

There were roommate disagreements, of course. Someone left the dishes in the sink for too long. Someone forgot to put the cups back on the shelf. Someone wouldn’t stop hogging the shower. That someone was Sara.

It was a long year of figuring themselves out and their living situation. She learned to be more accommodating. Robert learned to stand up for himself.

However, nothing could’ve prepared her for Robert’s first college girlfriend. The shitty part was that she was nice. Gorgeous, too. Long auburn hair, shining blue eyes. Proper fit. Oh, yeah, her brain spit out. She and Robert are gonna have pretty perfect babies. Ugh.

Robert began to spend more time with Layla than with her. Which was fair. She was his girlfriend. Sara had to study for her exams, anyway. She had a life as well. (Or at least she tried to have one.)

Then he started to sleep at her place. First it was just the occasional weekend. Then it was every weekend. Then every other day. Four nights out of the week—till their flat started to feel like a one-bedroom, with a sad lonely woman living in it.

Even then, she reasoned with herself. They’re dating, she thought daily. This is normal. Stop being so jealous and fucking crazy.

Of course, Robert had to take the next big step in a relationship.

“Me and Layla are thinking of moving in together,” he mentioned offhandedly, one Sunday afternoon. “We believe it’s time.”

“You’re having a laugh,” she said back.

Sara knows she was jealous when she responded in that manner, she should’ve kept her cool and been supportive, but a part of her was genuinely concerned. They only knew each other for four months. Who moves in together after only four months!?

Unsurprisingly, a huge fight broke out between them. Sara spat some unsavoury things in her mother tongue. Robert told her she was behaving like a spoiled brat. They didn’t speak to each other for a while.

Although, he was kind enough to wait till Sara found a new roommate to split rent. And he did tell her none of this would change their friendship. It did; but it was nice of him to say that.

They didn’t speak as often. They didn’t hang out as much. They barely saw each other, actually. Different majors, different schools. Sara’s worst nightmare happened to her in the course of a few months and she still managed to get up in the morning. (Hurrah?)

She eventually heard through the grapevine Robert had broken up with Layla, and was seeing someone else. They reconnected, somewhat. But Sara still kept her distance. It hurt too much to be around someone she loved who didn’t feel the same. So, they grew apart. She tried to not think of him as much. She went out. She made new friends. All things considered, there were a few good memories from that part of her life. It really did feel like things were looking up for her.

Then she bumped into Tom at a pub.

He smiled sweetly at her and said he was sorry for spilling her drink.

“Let me buy you one?” He asked. “As an apology. You can tell me to fuck off afterwards if you’d like.”

Being easily charmed by pretty men, she said yes.

“Alright,” she smiled back. “I’ll let you buy me a drink. Just one.”

“Just one,” he laughed.

It wouldn’t be just one. It wouldn’t be just that night. And the sweetness certainly didn’t last.

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