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"Nobody said it was easy," I mumble softly. "It's such a shame for us to part."

I press my fingers against the keys, playing the chords perfectly. This is such a simple song to play, and I absolutely love it. I'm not much of a singer, but I can't help it. It's not like anyone can hear me anyway. I'm playing along to the song. It's blasting out of the speakers, drowning out the sound of my voice.

"No one ever said it would be this hard," I sing. "Oh, take me back to the start."

I play the final few chords. I barely have to focus on the notes, my hands play them automatically. As soon as the song is over, the next one starts. It's another Coldplay song, but one I don't know as well.

I dig through my stack of papers. The sheet music is in there somewhere, but I can't find it. I should probably alphabetise them. I turn around, ready to grab another box of papers, but I freeze when I see a figure standing in the doorway.

"Oh my god!" I gasp, taken by surprise.

"Turn it down, will you?" Tyler grumbles. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Yes, oh my god, I'm so sorry, I thought I was alone," I stop the music, blurring the words out.

I haven't seen Tyler all day. I assumed he wasn't home, but I guess I was wrong. Owen is at work, and Lena is out with her friends. The place was completely quiet. Maybe he just got home.

"If you're gonna play music, play something decent," he tells me. "Coldplay fucking sucks."

"You like the National but you don't like coldplay?" I frown.

"I never said I liked The National."

Oh. He's right. I just assumed he did, because it was playing in his car. But once again, I guess I'm wrong.

I gather my papers off my desk, deciding to call it a day. I expect Tyler to leave, but he doesn't. He leans against the doorframe, running a hand through his curls. For once, he doesn't smell like alcohol or smoke. Instead, he smells surprisingly clean.

In this light, I can finally make out some of his tattoos. There's a large one just above his hip. It's the head of a lion, with a skull in its mouth.

There's an axe on his left peck, and a birdcage on his right upper chest, just beneath his collarbone. There's also some text on his abdomen, but I can't make out the words.

"Are you okay?" he asks, catching me by surprise. I lift my head, analysing the serenity of his words.

"Yeah, yeah," I nod, pursing my lips. "I'm fine."

"I mean, about last night."

"What about it?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I repeat.

"Sarah-,"

"What do you care?" I cut him off. I don't want to talk about this, let alone with him. He's made it perfectly clear he doesn't like me.

"Come on," he snickers. "You had a fucking panic attack."

"So? What does it matter?"

"That's a serious issue," he insists. "You can't just blow it off like that."

"I'm not."

"Then don't act like it!"

"I'm not acting like anything!"

"You sure about that? Because you walked away like it was just a ducking normal day!"

"Well it was!"

"Panic attacks aren't fucking normal!"

"What would you know, huh?"

"I know you're fucking dumb for denying it!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Why?" he taunts. "Are you really that weak?!"

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I know enough to get your blood boiling."

"Is that why you're doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Pissing me off!"

"No," he scoffs. "You're just fucking infuriating!"

"Me?! Have you seen yourself?"

"Yeah, I fucking have! And let me tell you, if you don't get your shit together, you're going to end up just like me!"

I clamp my mouth shut, surprised by his words. I knew he was troubled, but I never stopped to think what made him that way.

"Do yourself a favour and get some fucking help," he scolds, shaking his head. He spoke the words as if he was talking to a child. I want to let it go, and end the conversation. But I can't. I'm furious.

"Who says I haven't got help?" I call. "Besides, if anyone needs help, it's you!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you're clearly messed up!"

"Well, that's not your business, is it?"

"Then why is my life your business?"

"It isn't!"

"Then why do you care?"

"I don't!" he spits.

"Then leave!"

"Owen was fucking worried about you, and I wanted to be a good friend!" he yells. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're impossible! I swear to God, you're such a fucking-,"

"A fucking what? Huh? A frigid bitch?"

"What?" he scowls, taking a step into the room.

"Yeah, I heard what you said!"

"No, you didn't! You weren't ducking there!"

"Christian told me!"

He scoffs. "Your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"You sure about that?!"

"Yes, I fucking hate him!"

Tyler hesitates. A small smile tugs at his lips, clearly amused by my words.

"what?" I spit. "You think this is funny?"

"I do," he chuckles. "You just swore."

"What?"

"You swore."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes you did. You said you fucking hate him."

"No, I said I hate him!"

"You said you fucking hate him."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, I-," I stifle. "So what? I swear sometimes!"

"Not around me."

"Why does that matter?"

"I didn't say it did."

I let out a low grumble. "God, you're impossible!"

"Calm down, Princess, or you might start swearing again," he smirks.

I want to scream at him. I actually want to attack him. Take him down like you see animals do on the nature channel.

But I don't. His words strike a chord with me.

"Do you hear that?" Tyler asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"No?" I frown. "What is it?"

He sticks his head out of the room. It's silent for a moment, and I hear the sound of glass breaking.

"Shit," Tyler groans. He heads into the living room. I take a step towards the door, but I'm too afraid to go with him. I'm sure it's just Owen, but something doesn't feel right.

I try to listen to their conversation, but I can't make out the word. I step into the hallway, peeking around the hallway.

Holy shit.

That's not Owen.

It's the guy who was here the other night. The night Tyler went to the hospital.

"You son of a bitch!" Tyler yells, punching the guy in the face. Seconds later, he punches him again. The guy stumbles backwards, but he doesn't get a chance to recover. Tyler punches him once more, and then pins him against the wall by his collar.

I expect the violence to stop there, but it doesn't. Tyler yanks him sideways, slamming the mans head onto the kitchen counter. I gasp loudly. He's unconscious. Tyler picks his lifeless body up, and drops him on the floor.

If my heart beats any faster than this, I'll pass out.

"Sarah!" Tyler calls, heading my way. "We have to go."

"I, I, what?" I hesitate.

He grabs hold of my hand, tugging me out of the hallway. He pulls my through the room, but my eyes stay glued on the man on the floor.

"Is he...dead?" I whisper.

"No! Fuck! Come on!" Tyler grumbles, letting my arm go. I follow him outside, hearing him slam the door shut behind us. "Go!"

I do as he says, running down the stairs as quickly as I can. Tyler is hot on my heels, ushering me along. By the time we make it to the parking lot, I've finally calmed my thoughts.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Just get in the car!"

He walks around the vehicle, jumping into his side. I climb inside, but don't even get a chance to put my seatbelt on before we're pulling out of the parking lot, and speeding down the road.

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