Chapter One

Can you be a million different fragments of a person and still be that person? Marissa wasn't sure if there was an answer to that question, or if she even wanted to know. Staring lifelessly out to the sea, her long fingers preoccupied fidgeting with her phone, she wondered how she'd let everything get so far out of her control. The coarse wooden boards of the life guard station protruded menacingly into her back, the wind was howling about her ears, whipping her hair out around her face and tying it into knots, aggravating her tear-stained face. And she was lonely.

Choking back another sob, Marissa wiped away the fresh tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes angrily with the back of her hand. She was more than just angry with herself, she was furious. She was a coward, she knew all too well she was weak, and she was fed up of feeling sorry for herself. But right in that moment of darkness, when the only sounds were of the tide lapping gently at the shore and the sand as it danced and jumped in the wind, she felt beyond reach, as if she weren't really there, as if she was floating high above looking down at her own pathetic, crumpled figure far below. As if with one more gust of wind she would be blown into the distance, far across the sea where no one could follow her or bring her back.

A wooden board strained from behind, creaking in protest at the intrusion. Marissa flinched and came crashing back down into herself, her heart racing. She had been so close.

She could make out the footsteps as they edged closer. They were light, but not so light as if they made an attempt to sneak up on her, but not so heavy as if they were definite they should approach. Bringing her knees up to her body she hastily wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and took a shaky breath that almost preceded a sob. It was dark, but not so dark that she couldn't make out his face.

He was wearing that smile, that same smile he'd worn earlier that day. But something this time was different, much different, the way it creased at the corner of his lips – as if he understood, as if he somehow could possibly know exactly how she felt in this moment in time. And there she thought that no one could.

She parted her dry lips slightly, to break the stony silence between them, but immediately clamped them shut again and turned to look back at the sea once again. Her hands fidgeted uncomfortably around her knees, and not for the first time that night she wondered if she had made a mistake in calling him to come and meet her, to allow him into her one remaining piece of sanctuary. But she had, and he was here. She glanced over at him shyly, feeling that funny twinge in her stomach as his eyes locked with hers, something unknown within them that she could not place. Maybe calling Volchok here had been a mistake after all.

'Look, I-' she began quietly; stopping as he suddenly closed the distance between them and sat besides her. She felt his arm against hers, his slow breathing, and fell silent once again.

He turned his head in her direction, but kept his eyes fixed on the cliffs in the distance, pretending to study them. 'How's the bruise Marissa?' he inquired gently.

She flinched as she brought her fingers up to her face, gingerly reminding herself of the bruises and how she acquired them. 'A little sore,' she mumbled in reply, memories fresh flooding back breaking down the flimsy barriers she'd built in her mind. Weak Marissa, so weak.

The silence was more than she could take, the emptiness, the pain…she wasn't sure how to act around him, wondering if he was at all sincere or relishing in the first steps of her own self destruction. Tears sprang to her eyes like long lost friends and as much as she detested the idea of allowing him to witness her sadness yet again, she couldn't help but give into them. She bit into her lip and brought a clenched fist to her mouth, trying to gather all the strength she had left before she completely lost it.

If he noticed anything, he didn't act like it. For a while he remained still, motionless like a concrete statue, hard and unnerving. A stale smell wrinkled her nose, a nostalgic comfort from days she thought she had well and truly conquered. She'd like to think she'd done it for herself, at first she had, but in the end it had really been for another reason.

The tide picked up and attacked the shore with more aggression, each time it went out it came rushing back in faster. Marissa shivered involuntarily, her thin jacket not providing much warmth. She took a deep breath and wrapped it tighter around herself, wondering if she should head home. Then again, it wasn't really much of a home.

'You know,' Volchok began, as he stirred besides her reaching into his pocket, 'things could always be much worse.'

Was he talking to her or too himself? Before she had a chance to answer, he had a silver flask in his hand and held it towards her, offering it. Marissa was caught in a moment of turmoil, her brain telling her to not be so stupid, her heart screaming that nothing else mattered anymore anyway, so what did she had too lose if she had already lost everything?

A fleeting moment of courage graced her, and she looked up into his eyes. He was no longer smiling, yet that unknown she couldn't place was still flickering in those eyes. He was challenging her then, testing her boundaries, searching for her limits. Well, that wouldn't be too hard then, she realised with a hint of smugness, he was about to find that she didn't have any, not anymore.

Her hand reached out faster than she would have liked, eagerness bubbling in her veins. Even a brief second of hesitation couldn't stop her; she was already spiralling out of control. She wasn't prepared for the icy coldness of it against her fingertips but that was soon forgotten as she brought it to her lips and took a tender sip. It burned as it trickled down her throat, but she was thankful she didn't cough. She glanced at Volchok as she took another gulp, feeling a hint of a buzz as it started to hit her head.

'So Atwood dumped you,' he commented as Marissa handed him the flask back and he took a swig, his face utterly composed. She nodded expressionless, having almost forgotten the entire scenario. She pulled a stray piece of hair from across her face and tucked it behind her ear, the desire for another drink pulsing within her, trying to keep herself preoccupied.

The smallest hint of a smile graced his lips briefly. She was already reaching for another pull of the flask. 'That's just too bad.'

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