A/N: Ok, with the broken clock thing, I don't mean that term in the 'dumb luck' sort of way, which is how it's mostly used. This is an angsty-ish story.
Disclaimer: iCarly is not mine.
The broken clock is a comfort,
It helps me sleep tonight,
Maybe it can stop tomorrow,
From stealing all my time.
She remembers being five, and breaking her mother's favourite glass. She didn't mean to, but her mother hadn't been feeling well and she wanted cookie. So, not to disturb her (Mummy was cross if she woke her up), she brought her chair and reached up for a cookie, only to move her hand and knock over her mother's glass, shattering as it hit the floor (what a pretty sound).
Surprisingly, it hadn't woken her mother up (ah, the familiar effects of sleeping tablets), so she'd tried to fix it with sticky tape. After a good forty five minutes of hard work that just wasn't good enough, she'd pricked herself on the sharp glass and burst into tears from pain and frustration.
Her mother finally woke up to the sound of tears, finding Sam nursing her hand, not sure what to do. She'd immediately bandaged it, before looking sadly at the broken glass in front of her. To which she'd scolded Sam and told her to go to her room as she cleaned up the mess (bloody feet on broken glass).
She hates that feeling.
Of brokenness, of failure, of attachment that makes you feel hungry and sick at the same time when something's broken. Of feeling shattered and of being thrown away, being told that you're not good enough to keep and cherish.
She hates being broken.
A year after he father leaves, the great big clock in the kitchen stops working. It's nine o'clock, but the clock says that it's five o'clock, and this manages to unsettle Sam (because really, she's only six and she absolutely hates change). She waits until her Mother wakes up two hours later (tick tock tick tock), and tells her about the broken clock. But her Mother just frowns and says she'll get a new one when she's feeling up to it, which will probably be tomorrow. So Sam waits, and eats, and watches the clock.
Two months later, the clock still isn't fixed. She asks her Mother's new boyfriend to do it, and he promises to. But then he breaks up with her mother ten days later, and the clock remains broken. She wants to ask her mother to fix it (because fixing the clock would be the first step), but all she hears is crying and an occasional glass bottle against the wall (there used to be two glasses, and now there's one) coming from her room, so she decides not to disturb her.
She keeps on asking all the men that come round to fix the clock (because men are supposed to be stronger, aren't they?) and some of them smile sweetly, and some of them ignore her completely, but the clock never gets fixed. And slowly, Sam learns to be quiet, because all the words that are said to her are just empty (and silence is stronger and more honest).
It's nine o'clock, and the clock in the kitchen says it's five.
She's brilliantly bored.
It's ten o'clock and she's at school, sitting on her seat and watching Mrs Briggs stalk around and (attempt to) teach her maths. And of course, she's all wide blue eyes and sparkling blonde hair. Then the eyes are filled with water and sparkling blonde hair in pretty little plaits (that she did herself) are hurting her.
"Let go of her immediately, Miss Puckett!" Mrs Briggs calls, but her words are lost on Sam, and it's only after two other students have pulled her off that she stops.
"Apologise to your sister at once!" Mrs Briggs says, standing by Melanie's side and resting her hand on her shoulder as she scolds Sam. Sam raises her eyebrows, and doesn't say anything (because silence can't be held against you).
"Mrs Briggs, it's ok. Really," Melanie says finally. And for once, that stupid rhino of a teacher stays silent. She then tells everyone to get back to class, with an even larger scowl than before on her face. And Melanie gives her a sad smile, and sits down at the desk in front of her, and Sam just watches and decides to continue not listening (because that's what she's good at).
Melanie doesn't smirk (Melanie smiles). Melanie doesn't get bored in class (Melanie listens). Melanie raises her hand and answers questions (Melanie always knows the answer).
And Melanie looks exactly like Sam.
It's later that lunchtime that she first meets Carly. She's nice and she's normal (and she's not weak, not really) and she's popular, and Sam feels like she's met (her opposite) the yin to her yang. Or something like that, at least.
And then Melanie meets her too. They laugh and they smile and they make jokes, and then they answer questions in class together. And they're exactly the same, and Sam really isn't sure how to become like that (and she doesn't even want to). But then, Carly keeps on coming back to her, and Melanie just smiles and waves from the side lines (she was always a good girl).
Six years later Melanie gets a full scholarship to some prestigious (and pretentious) boarding school in California . She screams and she shouts for joy, and Sam sits there and finally dumps all of the popcorn in her hand on her head when it gets too much for her to bear. Her mother smiles (through her headache), and then it's all suitcases and sickly sweet goodbyes, and teary waves with plane tickets.
Mrs Briggs hates her (well, more so than she did); she's lost her best student and her little pet, and then she has the devil (who's disguised as the angel). So she shouts and screams, and Sam fights back (something Melanie could never do), and they're perfectly content just to hate each other for the rest of Sam's school life (Mrs Briggs is hoping that will end very, very soon).
She's nine when she takes Carly over to her house. Mainly, they stay in the front yard, and Carly finally decides to be a bad girl (just this once) and eat some junk food. They play on the rusty swing set and they lie in the grass looking up at clouds, and it's perfectly content (even if it's just a little bit boring and safe). And her mother watches from the bedroom, and tells them to keep off the road, but mainly, she just leaves them to their selves (and that's the way both her and Sam like it, and Carly hates it).
The next day, Carly takes Sam over to her house. Her brother Spencer is there, making a sculpture, and so is Carly's father. He's in his uniform; his amazingly clean uniform, that's pressed and ironed and p e r f e c t (oh, it runs in the family). His smiles sparkles and lights up his whole face, and his words are so, so kind (and she thinks she doesn't deserve that), even when Sam accidentally eats his sandwich.
He's able to pick both her and Carly up, and he even twirls them around when Carly asks him to (and Carly's laugh is still childish, still innocent). When he puts Sam down, the world is a kaleidoscope and the laughter and words are still echoing in her head, and it's making her a little dizzy and a little bit nostalgic (and she's not even sure why). But still, she smiles (because Carly's dad calls her pretty).
She asks to stay the night, and all three of them say yes; saying that she can stay whenever she likes, in fact (ohyoushould'vebityourtongue, sweetie). She won't forget their kindness, and hopefully, they won't forget her pretence, either.
And when she's there on Carly's lounge, Spencer on a date or going shopping, and Carly's letting a couple of dry tears fall because she misses her Daddy and Mummy, Sam plays her part (and gives Carly a break from her own acting). Sometimes, they're just a tiny bit like each other (and they both hate and like that at the same time), and that's how they help each other (I need you more than you need me).
Sometimes, when the sickness and the fatigue has left momentarily, her mother will tell her stories (fairytales and fables of once upon a time). She mentions the rock and roll fantasy of a leather-clad princess riding off on her prince's motorbike, vows inked on their skin, police on their tale and forever a promise. She'll tell Sam of happier times, before the troubles, giving proof that the smile lines actually have a reason to be at the corners of her mouth.
And sometimes, if she's feeling particularly adventurous (or naïve), she'll ask about the less-than-perfect childhood. But that tale will always end in frowns and a glimpse of the bruises passed down by memory, and her mother's tears will always paint the picture clearer than the words ever would. And Sam can almost feel the loneliness and the pain that had surrounded her all her life, and it breaks her heart (and she doesn't really think that Mummy deserved that, not really).
So she says sorry, and goes to bed with her Mother's watery smile behind her. And when she goes into her room, she'll find Melanie staring up at the ceiling that has cracks and lines and other signs of imperfection on it, and listen to the sounds coming from the paper thin walls.
(She can feel it too.)
She's twelve when she meets Freddie Benson. Her immediate impulse is to actually run away from him, but she's always been more of a 'fight' kind of girl rather than a 'flight' one. He moves into the apartment directly opposite Carly's, with no dad and a truly neurotic mother (and he sort of reminds Sam of Melanie, but - secretly - less annoying).
Sam happens to meet him two weeks after he moves in, strikes up a friendship with Carly, and falls in love with her. He has sparkling brown eyes, and a charming smile (that immediately turns wary when Sam's in the room), and the occasional dimple at his cheeks.
While she's the yin to Carly's yang, she's the sin to Freddie's innocence (and her eyes have never burnt brighter).
The initial meet 'n' greet is awkward, but not hostile. He's shy and she's bored, but they have nothing against each other (and Carly's the thing that's bringing them – and holding them – together in the first place). It's only after she sees his personality in action, the enraptured look on his face which he reserves for Carly and Carly only, and meets his mother that the hostility comes to life.
From then on, she's just a bit of a bully (and a little bit of a control freak as well).
Bruises and marks are just as hurtful as words (especially if they stand for something). He's her punching bag and her own broken-hearted love letter in one (she signs her name in every punch, every word). But still, he doesn't leave (she wonders just how much she burns him, and just how long it will take him to crumble into ash); but that's only because Carly stays around too.
She's thirteen when the clock stops working all together. The batteries which Melanie had put in from the TV remote (yes, thank you Melanie. Now we have to watch 'The Gold and the Pitiful' forever!) when they were both eleven finally give out at four o'clock in the morning.
To be honest, she's a little bit disappointed.
She wanted it to stop at midnight, or one o'clock (she's been expecting it to stop for quite a while now), or maybe something like three-thirty-three. But not four o'clock. That holds absolutely no mystery, or even meaning (six past six – that would've held a sign or sure). Four doesn't even have anything to do with the Bible: twelve disciples, the third day, seventh day, and all of that shit she doesn't believe in (oh but of course Melanie's Christian).
She doesn't even bother to ask her Mum and her new (promise) mechanic boyfriend to do anything about it (besides, her Mum's busy throwing up alcohol and food from last night while her boyfriend steals her vodka. Best not to disturb her).
Once a month, two bills that Sam knows for certain (and that's only two things that she does) will arrive at her doorstep. Her mother's is usually from medicare or any other government fund, while the other is from her father. The address is scrawled in round black writing, and she can almost hear the complaints that would accompany it.
Ever since the divorce, her mother has had thirty-five boyfriends. Her mother (can be) is pitiful, manipulative, charming, and an extremely good actor, and that's simply a fact (and a couple of genetic traits as well). And when she puts on lipstick, and blush, and the occasional bit of eye liner or mascara, you can see her restored, temporarily, to her former beauty (but Carly's mother will shine forever and ever, while her mother decays).
Sam sees it sometimes. Through the make-up and the clothes and the short skirts, she sees her mother breaking with the rejection and the failure (try hard). And usually in those weeks, the fridge is a little emptier and Carly's house seems a little warmer and a little cosier than her own (and maybe just a little more familiar as well).
Other days, when it's too late to run away, or she just doesn't want to, she watches her mother take a bottle of vodka and gin, and watch her fill a glass up with both. Memories of drunken laughter and sort-of bright faces fill Sam's head, and she watches the condensation run down the side of the glass like tears on clear cheeks, and her mother just sits there and drinks.
Occasionally, she'll smile at Sam. But the sadness is still there even through the fog and delusion that's in her mind, and Sam starts to believe that the oblivion in fairytales is fake (because that's how everyone gets their happily ever after, and those aren't real). And then, a second (just one more last one) glass is filled, and Sam just starts wonder where the line between compensating, intoxicated, and suicidal is.
She's fifteen when she gets her first kiss (she's fifteen when she kisses Freddie Benson). She's fifteen and a half when she sees Melanie again and tells Freddie the truth (she's fifteen and a half when Melanie kisses Freddie and Sam admits to having a sister). She's sixteen when Freddie reminds Sam that she's a dirty little liar (she's sixteen when Freddie kisses Sam for the second time).
Sam comes home that night to see a man in a leather jacket smoking in the back yard and her mother in her own twenty-year old leather jacket giving him a fake smile as she leans on his motorbike (her foot tattoo is on display, and Sam can't help but grin a little with words from jokes echoing in her head, and the thought of her mother being young again).
But then she frowns. The moonlight catches her mother in its pale web, revealing every single frown and wrinkle that's on her face. Her skin blanches to an odd colour, and its constitency almost seems paper thin (tug tug, tear tear, rip rip) and her eyes seem greyer than normal. And quickly, Sam's filled with anger, ignoring the sadness as slowly ebbs its way in.
She stalks into the house, away from her mother and the faceless man, and looks to see bills and red lettering on the kitchen table. Ten year old pictures shake on the door of an empty fridge as she slams it shut, and ugly furniture looks even more lewd in pale light against a yellow wall.
And then Sam's just fucking angry.
Everything seems to signify a mistake, a cover-up and a lie, and she hates it. She sits on her bed fuming as images of her mother, Carly, Freddie, herself, her father, flash through her mind. Somewhere through the red fog, she hears a door shut and a motorbike roar into the distance ("we'd ride off with police on our tails").
Her house echoes. When she shouts, the words reverberate off the walls and echo around her. Sometimes, her mother will cringe, other times, she'll join in with the fading music. And very, very rarely, she'll just turn her head and walk away as Sam's left with her (mistakes) words singing to her.
And she secretly wants to crycrycry after that (but that would mean she's weak and everyone would see just how easy it would be to break her, and she'd never do that to anyone. Even herself), because she thinks that she didn't mean it, and she thinks she's sorry (but she's not sure, and she's just so sick of lying).
She's tries to fall asleep for four hours, until she finally gives in and steals her mother's sleeping tablets. After another seventeen minutes of trying, sleep finally claims her as the words 'it will be ok' drill themselves into her mind.
(The kitchen clock still says four o'clock, and it's still wrong.)
She goes to Carly's place the next morning with her mother still asleep, the kitchen empty of a 'I've runaway to go to Carly's place' note, and a shattered dream as she realises that she sort ofmaybepossibly loves Freddie (in that kind of if-i-lie-will-you stay-with-me-foreverandever way) and that he hates her (in that you-broke-my-heart-and-revenge tastes-sweeter-than-you ever-were sort of way).
She's sixteen and three quarters when she manages to fall into the gritty life of high school; the one that involves alcohol, illegal drugs, and unprotected sex that's more likely to end up giving you herpes rather than getting you pregnant.
Carly keeps her old friends and makes new ones, and nothing really changes for her (and that's the way she likes it). But Sam wants everything to stay the same, even if it does mean never growing up and living at home forever (and she'll probably either die trying or let it rush by her as she stays in the same place). So she slowly starts to edge towards the 'bad kids', as Carly would call them, and soon she actually has something to do at the endless high school parties.
She goes straight for the alcohol (because that's what she grew up with and everyone loves familiarity). Carly takes her to parties and turns a blind eye as she sneaks out behind her to find the secret hiding places that disobedient teenagers use (takes on to know one).
To be honest, she doesn't even like the taste of brandy and vodka that much.
But she does like the hint of oblivion that they hide within their bottles (and maybe it's time to start believing in fairy tales again). She likes how she'll wake up with no memory of the night before hand and no mistakes weighing her head town. Very, very occasionally, she'll let her drinks get a little more deadly as her insides swirl and her head flies high into the night sky. But she only does that every once and a while (because the second time is never as good as the first).
She knows exactly what she's doing (because while she isn't a planner, she's always been a smart ass). She knows that Carly likes to play the oblivious best friend (because her little fantasy needs protection), and she notices Freddie frown and clench his fists at parties that he doesn't even want to be at. More then once has he dragged her out of an uncomfortable situation, but all she's been able to do is smile drowsily and close her mouth before a confession can come out (bite your tongue and smile for the camera, baby).
Occasionally she'll let her lipstick stain another person's mouth, hear a moan and numerous chuckles, but that's just her being her and tricking people. She'll go for the bad boys dressed in leather and tight jeans that have numerous lipstick marks on their neck, so her own blood red mark camouflages and lets her leave with a meaningless memory and no traces linking back to her (oh Mummy, aren't you proud?).
She's been seventeen a week when Freddie's grip leaves bruises on her arm and her slap leaves a red mark on his cheek that doesn't fade for five minutes. She glares at him and he glares at her as she spits at him to take it back and he stays silent. She manages to shake out of his grip and stalk home, with her knee-high black boots slapping against the concrete and acting as her main focus point (she even dressed up for the occasion).
She's always known what she was doing (and she'd always been a disobedient child, so why listen to Freddie or her mother now?).
It's four o'clock in the morning when she gets home. The clock on the kitchen wall greets her and leaves her feeling haunted as she tries to go to sleep (because it's never right).
She ends up taking onetinypill from her mother's medicine cupboard, and manages to swallow it and the apology together in one gulp.
(She dreams of blood and tears and the world f a l l i n g apart.)
She throws the bottle harder at the mirror than she's ever done before, and watches as the mirror breaks and the bottle shatters, wine like blood running down the sink. Shards of glass litter the bathroom floor (and it looks like bottled up tears have finally escaped), and she looks at the empty space of where the mirror was.
She breaks then.
She collapses onto her hands and knees, and feels the skin on her palms and knees break and start to bleed. But she truly doesn't care. She catches sight of herself in larger pieces of the mirror, looking at her now tear stained face and golden hair as it shines in the harsh and artificial light.
She streaks the clear surface with her blood, distorts the image with the tears that continuously run down her face. She can smell the wine from the bottle (just like home) mixed in with disinfectant, and it makes her nauseous as the tears run harder down her cheeks. All she really wants to do is curl up in a little ball and sleep as, for the first time since she was six, her mother comforts her and sings her a lullaby (and maybe even lie and say that everything will be ok; if she'll believe it).
She stops crying after a little why (because everything ends). She runs away again with drying blood covering her palm, and lets people stare because it really doesn't matter, and she even lets people tell her what to do (because she doesn't think she really knows either).
At three o'clock in the morning she's wrapped in a blanket with starry night air chilling her skin as it leaves, and feeling a cold sunrise peek its way in and blind the stars. Distantly, she can hear telephones ringing, and people talking, and people running, but she all she cares about is the warm body that starts to press against hers (the bruises faded weeks ago), and skinny arms that wrap around her frame.
She lets herself be comforted, but she doesn't cry (not again).
A few clouds litter a light blue and almost grey sky, as they walk up the green hill. She walks alone, with Carly and Freddie behind her, and Melanie somewhere up ahead. But she doesn't look behind her, or in front of her. She just looks down at her black and white converse and tries to forget everything going on around her.
Melanie speaks. Sam doesn't. Carly and Freddie listen, and from under her curtain of hair, she's able to see them frown at some intervals (you wanted the truth? Well, you've got it). Melanie cries (Sam stays hidden). Carly tries to comfort her (and Freddie puts his hand over hers and refuses to look into her eyes).
And finally, it ends.
She goes back home to a cold house that seems even more foreign than it was before. She doesn't bother turning on the lights, just lets herself recognise the silhouettes of objects and hope to God that something will tell her what to do, tell her how to make everything better. And when nothing happens, she just lies on her bed and stares at the wall until the cracks in it seem to get bigger and fuzzier.
A turned key, an open door, a knock, and then a head of blonde hair greet her and tell her silently that she's not alone (or at least for now). She hears high heels clack against a wooden floor, and feel her bed sink down under a new pressure.
The conversation starts without eye contact, but out of Sam's eye she can see hands shaking and a tear stained face (but the mirror s h a t t e r e d).
"I miss Mummy," Melanie says. Sam stays silent (though they both know that the silence is just the truth). She hears Melanie take a deep breath, and already she knows that it probably means even more bad news. "I'm going to move to California. Permanently, I mean. Not just for school,' Melanie says. 'It's just that, well-"
"Mum's dead and you don't want to stay in a living memory, we have no idea who or where our father is, and, since I hacked into your email and stole your phone last time you came around, I know for a fact that you have a boyfriend who is in fact normal, you don't really want to stay around here. Do you?" Sam interrupts. 'I get it, and it's fine. Really, it is."
"You've always been so blunt," Melanie replies, and Sam sees her wiping a quick hand over her eyes and give a watery smile that she doesn't think Sam sees. A heavy sigh escapes Melanie's mouth. "I'm going to start packing up the rest of my things tomorrow. I'll see you then." And with that, Melanie works out of their old bedroom (Sam's new bedroom), and bursts into tears (and Sam can hear her sobbing through the wall).
Five hours later, Freddie comes over. She opens the door for him, wearing her pyjamas, trying to look like she normally does (but now she needs to find herself again). He's still in the outfit that he was wearing at the funeral, and he still wears the solemn mask that he was wearing through out it. His eyes swirl with an apology, and Sam's knees start to feel weak as she grips the doorway.
"Carly's worried about you. She wants you to spend the night at her place, but apparently your phone's been off," Freddie says. It's in the voice that he usually saves just for Sam: slightly annoyed and exasperated, with a hint of caring and softness in it. But Sam doesn't move, doesn't speak, and she sees his face soften as it's filled with more worry.
"Sam," he says, bringing out to touch her arm. "Are you ok?"
She takes a couple of steps backwards, Freddie's hand still on her arm, and turns away as she hears him close the door. She takes her mug of coffee, and still not turning around to see if he's following her, she sits down on the lounge and stares at the blank TV. Freddie comes to sit beside her, and after a moment's hesitation, wraps his arm round her shoulders.
"Are you going to cry?" He asks softly. Sam shakes her head in reply, but lets her head rest against his shoulder anyway. She knows how this would look to anyone else; a boyfriend and a girlfriend. She doesn't care though, because it's still awkward and that makes it them.
In the silence, she can't help but think about everything. She thinks about the funeral, and how it was mainly all of her own friends who had never met her mother, and had just heard about her through lies and stories. She remembers Spencer saying sorry while wearing a suit, and how out of place he looked in it; how Freddie's mother came up to her and apologised for her loss, all the while reminding Sam of everything her mother wasn't. She remembers Melanie hugging Freddie while she burst into tears (and that's probably how it should end up), and a sleek black coffin being lowered into the ground.
"Sam…Sam, I'm sorry about your Mum. Carly and I, we, we didn't know that she was sick," Freddie says, interrupting her reverie. Sam already knows how the sentence would continue: "We could've helped you, or offered you support." (And that's just such a Freddie thing to say, to lie and focus on the past).
"You weren't supposed to," Sam replies. "Mum and I dealt with it best we could. We don't take pity anyway," she adds. She knows that if this was any other situation, Freddie would be fighting and disagreeing with her. But he's not (and in a way she wants him to, because the past is what she's used to).
Freddie's been over an hour and a half when he breaks the silence again. Her head is still on his shoulder, and her empty mug is still in her hand, and his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder.
"Sam, come on," he says. "You should cry; crying's normal, and it's good in this kind of situation," he says (only if you're weak). But Sam stays silent and she can feel Freddie get more and more exasperated as he's filled with more and more worry.
"Sam, come on!" he says, his voice louder (and this may be the thing she thinks wants). "You're Mum just died! I cried when my Dad died!" (And she'd laugh at him for crying if he wasn't trying to help and she didn't appreciate it in secret).
"I'm fine," she manages to mutter out. "I don't need to cry," she says, pursing her lips together (she hates lying, but it's so ea-sy).
"Sam, that isn't right. You're not even acting human!" Freddie says, on the verge of yelling. And then, before either she or he can stop, she kisses him. Because love his human, love is normal, and love is always supposed to be the answer (or at least is in fairytales).
She breaks away, her fingers still in his hair, and looks him straight in the eye. He's a little bit confused, and he's still a little bit remorseful, and he's sort of accepting about what's about to happen. But most of all, she can see that he wants to help her so. badly. and he has no idea how to.
"I do miss my Mum," she says. "And I'm sorry too." And then she kisses him again, harder this time (she's always been better at showing anger than sadness). She grips his hair harder, and she kisses with more force until their both left breathless and gasping.
"But. I'm not my mother. Not yet," she says again, pushing him down and straddling him. His eyes immediately feel with regret, and his palm goes to cup her cheek before she pushes her head away. 'Not yet, anyway,' she repeats, and kisses him again.
(She loves him in an ineedyoumorethanyouneedme kind of way.)
She dreams as she sleeps. Not of nightmares, not of happy fantasies, but of memories and mistakes (and she think that reality may be the worse nightmare of them all). In her sleep, she digs her fingernails into the arm that's wrapped around her waist, and he winces in his.
She remembers being thirteen and taken to the school therapist. First of all, there was talk of 'focus drugs', and 'more discipline', most of the suggestions coming from Mrs Briggs and Mr Howard. But the school therapist actually took time to talk to her, instead of immediately putting her on drugs.
The main thing she remembers is that the therapist called her angry. Very, very angry. At her Dad, at her sister for getting away, at Carly for being perfect, and most of all, at her mother. The day afterwards, Freddie called her a liar when she denied putting a rotting hamburger in his locker.
She hadn't denied that she was angry, or that she was a liar. She just hadn't said anything (and as the therapist pointed out, ignoring it and lying about it was her way of coping, but she had denied that, because she was stronger than that).
She wakes up on a cold lounge with moonlight shedding in from the window over her face. She doesn't want to get up, doesn't want to face a new day. So instead, she hugs the thin blanket that covers her body closer to her, and tries to fall into a dreamless sleep.
But the lounge is more lumpy than soft, and it smells of her mother's horrible perfume and alcohol, and a little bit like smoke from a cigarette. And she keeps getting distracted of the photos on the fridge of her and Melanie together, smiling, and of that one entrancing picture of her mother in her leather jacket and next to her motorbike. Smiling. (And not one single salty tear stains the lounge.)
She wakes up at four o'clock, and Freddie isn't there.
(She was right.)
Even a broken clock is right twice a day.
Review of PM me if you either don't understand the plotline, found any parts confusing, or just want to comment and/or critique. First quote is from Lifehouse's song, Broken.