Battling the Loss You Live For.

Frank’s Point of View
About five minutes later, we were interrupted from our embrace by a policeman, along with a policewoman and a fireman. They looked very serious, and Sazzy cowered into me when they approached, clinging to my black cardigan. I kissed the top of her head; a hand weaved through her hair and squeezing her to me, my other hand on the small of her back.
“Ms… err… M-Massacre?” the policeman asked, a question in his tone. She grudgingly lifted her head from my chest, smiling tentatively.
“Yes.”
“I’m P.C Bailey; this is my co-worker P.C Hills, and this is Mr. Johnston, one of the firemen who helped diminish the fire in the shop in which you work,” he explained, taking off his hat. P.C Hills did the same, whereas Mr. Johnston just smiled widely.
“Do you mind if we sit down?” the officer asked. It looked like he’d be doing all the talking. Sazzy nodded. They sat, grabbing wooden chairs from another table, sitting at the table opposite us. I felt the need to introduce myself, but Sazzy beat me to it.
“This is my boyfriend, Frank,” she clarified, sitting up properly, my arm wrapped around her waist, making the silver foil thermal blanket crackle. I smiled, nodding. Bailey glanced over, dismissing me and averted his gaze back to Sazzy. Hills smiled, Johnston grinning wider.
He seemed nice, and looked quite young. He had sandy blonde hair, with bright blue eyes and a tanned tone. Hills looked like she was in her mid-thirties, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She seemed quite professional. Bailey looked a lot older, with a balding head and quite a large physique. He seemed to give off the air of a professional, but stuck-up person, seeming like he knew it all.
“So, Ms… Massacre,” Bailey started grudgingly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. Hills rolled her eyes, seeming fed up. I was close to pissed; he reminded me of the doctor back in Jersey.
“You can call me Sazzy,” she said meekly, seeming quite intimidated.
“Alright, Sazzy,” Bailey continued, “we just wanted to ask you a few questions about the fire that took place today. Could you please tell us everything that happened from when you found out about the fire till when you came here?”
Sazzy took a deep breath, repeating everything she told me before to the officers and Johnston, glancing at me every now at then for support.
“Right…” Hills said, after Sazzy finished her story, telling it up to when I found her here. Hills had been making notes in her leather-bound notebook, a concentrated look on her face.
“Do you know anything about the fire?” Johnston asked his eyebrows knitted in wonder. Sazzy shook her head.
“No. I was just told to wait here.”
“Well, the employees at Whittard, the coffee and tea shop next to H&M, had initiated the fire. They had left on some incense sticks burning in the staff room, along with the coffee-maker on unattended. The fire started on the wall, where the coffee-maker was, and burnt through into H&M,” he explained, fiddling with his uniform. Sazzy gawped.
“What?! Oh my god! Is everyone from Whittard okay?!” typical Sazzy. Johnson laughed.
“Yeah, they are. They called us and they got out quickly, but couldn’t inform you guys in time.”
“Anyways, Sazzy,” Bailey began quickly, “thank you for your time. I suggest you go home and relax, as I believe the paramedics have already checked you over?” she nodded in response, as he stood up, Hills and Johnston following suit.
“Well, that’s good. Take care now,” he finished, swiftly walking off, and down the stairs quickly. Hills smiled and nodded, following her colleague.
“Sazzy, Frank,” Johnston stated, shaking both our hands, walking downstairs after.
“That was the weirdest thing ever,” I said, nuzzling my nose in her hair.
“I hate that fucker, that Bailey guy. He kept looking at you like you were dirt. What the fuck was his problem?!” Sazzy grumbled quietly but heatedly, obviously pissed off.
“Hey, it’s okay. Leave it. It was only once,”
“No it wasn’t! He did it all the time. When I was telling him what happened. You didn’t see, you were looking at me,” she explained, her voice full of bitterness.
“I don’t like him.”
“It’s okay, babe. You won’t see him again,” I reminded her, grinning and kissing her forehead. She made a ‘humph’ noise, leaning into me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Shall we go? You’re probably really tired,” I whispered, stroking her hair. I felt her nod, sitting up. She removed the silver blanket from her shoulders, folding it neatly.
“I’d better give this to them on our way out, too,” she said, gripping my hand and standing up, pulling me up. It was then when I realised how much my legs hurt. I stumbled, grimacing at the pain.
“Hey… Frank, are you okay?” Sazzy asked, shoving the blanket into her back pocket, placing her hand on my arm.
“Yeah, fine,” I replied, smiling weakly as I lead her down the stairs, wary of the aches in my legs. It was all the running I did, I realised. I never ran more in my life.

When we got out of the shop after a worried Charley asked questions about everything, we crossed the road, Sazzy giving the thermal blanket to one of the policemen that guarded H&M. I laced my fingers with hers, leading her to the back of the mall.
“Frank… where are you going?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.
“I rented out a car,” I explained, still leading her to the middle of the mall, gently pulling her down the stairs towards the underground car-park.
“Oh,” I heard her mumble, her tone slightly surprised. I chuckled.
I walked over to where I parked the silver Nissan Micra I rented out during the day, her fingers still laced tightly with mine.
“This car is so cute,” she said, smiling slightly as I unlocked the car, helping her in. I smiled at her, before walking around the front of the car, letting myself in. I buckled my seatbelt, slotting the keys into the ignition, but not twisting them to bring the engine to life.
I turned to her, seeing her already buckled in, pulling her long hair to the side and into a messy bun. When she finished, I grasped her hand, leaning over and pressing my lips against hers softly. I felt her smile, licking my lips and pulling away swiftly, leaning back in her chair. I furrowed my eyebrows in mock annoyance, pouting slightly. She giggled.
“Drive, Iero,” she said, squeezing my hand. I smiled, pecking at her lips then turning away, my hand still grasped in hers as I twisted the car to life.