He let out a humourless snort. “‘What’s it to me?’ she says. I won’t allow it, that’s what! I f**king forbid it! Tash, you can’t do this to me. I can’t stomach the thought of you with him!”

That hit a nerve. “Do this to you? You won’t allow it? You forbid it! What the hell are you going on about Tudor? You are an absolute mind-fuck. You can’t have me, you don’t want me, but nor can any other man? Do you see how royally screwed-up that is? You’re sounding insane!”

He moved closer, an inch from my lips. He licked and rubbed his, hypnotising with the movement of his tongue. “I can’t watch you be like that with other men.”

“Be like what?” I asked, in total shock at his admission.

“All flirty… wanting them… you only do that for me, you’re only meant to do that for me.”

I physically crumpled against the wall, my head in my hands. “Tudor, I can’t take this! What do you want from me? First, you’re all over me like a rash, even though it’s against what you want, then you reject me and now you forbid me from going for coffee with a guy who doesn’t bloody hide his interest towards me. Who can be seen with me in public. Who seems genuinely interested in me. Who doesn’t seduce me while all the time telling me he doesn’t want to be with me. Who is f**king normal! Have I missed anything? Please, let me know? Make me understand all this shit you’re putting me through!” I cried.

He just stood there, panting harshly and not moving, for what seemed like an eternity. He dipped his forehead to mine, allowing us to touch and sending an electric current shooting through my body straight to my heart.

“You’re right,” he whispered, resigned.

He backed away and leaned against the opposite wall. I felt exposed and empty by the loss of his physical proximity.

“I have absolutely no say in what or who you do. Forget I said anything. Forget tonight, it was a mistake, a f**king huge mistake.” He crossed his bulging arms over his chest and looked down at the floor.

For a moment, my heart fell; the look on his face was utterly heart-breaking. Like a child who had just been told that Santa wasn’t real – completely shattered.

I went to move towards him, but he stood and shook his head and began backing up towards the emergency exit, hands out in surrender.

I clenched my fists and shrieked, hurt lacing my voice. “Tudor! What are you doing to me? Why? Tell me why you’re doing this? Did you mean what you said? Was all this tonight a big mistake?”

He stood completely still and lifted his head to the side, not quite looking back. “Go on your date, Tash, enjoy yourself. Forget about me. Go get married, have kids, have a good life with a normal guy… God knows you wouldn’t get that with me.”

He walked away from me once more and this time, I was sure, completely out of my life.

My head pounded, pulsing with a dull pain and I felt weak. I went to grab my coat from my office and snuck away from the party. I couldn’t face anyone else.

* * *

The next morning Tink left at the crack of dawn after creeping into my room and leaving a goodbye kiss on my head.

I woke a few hours later to go to the bathroom, and then it hit me. The feeling I hadn’t felt for several months: the pain, the nausea, the helplessness, the bloody evil condition that brings me to my knees.

As I lost consciousness, I just remembered thinking Why now? Tink… help…

And then it all went dark.

Chapter 16

Knock, Knock... are you there?

I could hear the phone ringing… again. As I lay on the floor of my bedroom, a perfect view of underneath the bed, watching a cluster of lint float by my face, Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance’ ringtone taunting me and my current predicament.

I was present in terms of being able to see and hear, but I could not muster an ounce of energy to move. I tried to send a message to my limbs to pick themselves up and move towards the sound of my salvation; the message failed.

If I were to hazard a guess, I reckoned I had been in that spot for roughly twelve hours or so. The sun had set and cast the room in a blanket of darkness.

I drifted in and out of sleep and had managed to manoeuvre myself into various foetal positions to ease the discomfort, but I never quite managed to hoist my unresponsive carcass off the floor. I was thirsty, feverish and basically felt worse than a sheikh with a broken dick being thrown into a harem of eager women.

I’d been so blind. I should have seen the signs. When I’m stressed or not looking after myself well, my condition kicks in. I have problems with my hormones, it’s something called Cushing's Syndrome, and when they are put under pressure, they can affect my already-weak immune system. It’s not unpredictable; it shouldn't catch me by surprise. It was actually like bloody clockwork, a simple formula: lack of care leads to days of hell. Accidentally forgetting to take my medication may also have hindered things for me too, and then when I’m stressed everything is knocked off-kilter and I end up in that situation – face down on my bedroom floor, and that time without my favourite fairy to fly me to safety.

The real bugger of it all was that I had medication in my bathroom cabinet, but the fact that the extreme fatigue had kicked in meant I quite literally could not move. My muscles had gone on vacation. The traitorous things had probably joined Tink in friggin’ Vancouver, because it was abundantly clear they were not here with me!

I could feel the dryness of my mouth through dehydration, fever ravishing my body, and my salty sweat was running into my eyes, causing them to sting and blur. I knew I was in trouble. I could imagine my parents blaming themselves for 'allowing' me to come to Canada. So much for fending for myself!