I feel as though this blog has turned into the most depressing tale of woe ever, which is definitely not what I intended. It feels right now that the only way I can keep track of any of this, never mind start to make any sense of it, is to keep writing it all down. So I will, and if anyone reading it thinks I’m a pathetic sap of a drama queen… well I can’t really blame you.

So I got home from Craig’s – or his girlfriends’s, I suppose – and attacked my disgusting tip of a flat and I’d just sat down when the doorbell went and it was the police. The same two who had questioned me in the hospital, a wee ginger guy who looks about 12, Henrik, and a woman a bit older than me – early 40s maybe – Mila. She’s got a slight accent I can’t place, maybe something Eastern European, and she is terribly elegant. Generally I’m not really one for getting intimidated by other women, I hate that idea that we’re all in competition with each other, but given I was sitting there in weird hospital pyjamas and covered in blood and tears and grime and dust from cleaning the flat, I couldn’t help but wish she looked slightly less like she had just wandered in from some Paris fashion magazine.

Anyway, I obviously expected them to ask me about the attack so I started to think back to see if I could scare up some more details, but instead they said something that completely threw me for a loop.

They said that Craig reported me missing over a year ago.

What now?

They asked where I had been, and I replied right here. Right next to Craig, most of the time, in fact. I said I had no idea what he was playing at, and I don’t.

Was a year ago when he started seeing this woman and this was some weird way of… I don’t even know, pretending he wasn’t with me? Did he give her some bizarre sob story about how his girlfriend went missing when I was right there thinking everything was fine and dandy the whole time? I just don’t get it. The Craig I knew would never do anything so bloody weird, but if the last few hours have taught me anything, it’s that the Craig I knew seems to have disappeared in a puff of blue smoke.

He reported me missing?

If I’m honest, I barely heard whatever they said after that, because those words were just rattling round and round my head. I’m not even hurt or angry right now. I think I’m a bit numb, emotions wise, but I’m mostly just baffled.

I caught the two police exchanging looks a few times, and I cringed, because it was so obvious they thought I was a complete nutter. Normally, being in control is kind of my thing. My two best friends have mad ups and downs and boy drama and stuff – in different ways, but equally lively – and I’m the calm, steady one who dishes out wise advice and suggests yoga.

For whatever reason, that was my limit and I suddenly blurted that I was exhausted and they needed to go. They were a bit reluctant, the woman came over all disapproving and reminded me that the more information they had about my attack the more chance they had of getting him, but at that moment I just didn’t care and I told her so.

Finally I shut the door behind them, collapsed on my bed and slept for a very, very long time.

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