Nightmares had never been a problem for Nat. Not once in her life had they been a trouble. Even now. Yet why the fuck did it feel like her entire life had morphed into one? Books. Pages. Columns. News. Newspapers. Radios. Her name was everywhere. Hers and the other girls, but Nat would rather never speak to them again. Not after what she'd seen them do. What she herself had done. Which led to the current issue. True to Scatorccio nature, drink and drugs were her favourite pass time. Of course, they had been before the crash aswell. But this time she was an informed consumer with a goal in mind. To lose her mind. But now, months since their return, Natalie was still being fucked over. By the government, rather than her mum this time. And now she was recovering after sitting through an hour of Alcoholics Anonymous. Al-anon. Nobody had been interested enough to warrant her attention. She hadn't even bothered 'sharing'. At least the food was good. Cookies. Nat had been eyeing them up the whole time. Reaching out for one, not even bothering to balance her paper coffee cup properly, something warm and smelling of pure nicotine gave a soft shove. And low and behold, just her luck, the cookie dropped to the floor, the coffee splashed over her shirt and chest and arm and burned. "Jesus ficking Christ, dude?!" Natalie snapped on instinct, like a knee jerk reaction, whipping around to glare at you.