For the girl who saved my broken heart.

Chapter 2

Giana gazed out the window at the rain that beat hard on the glass, her tears streaming down her face in quick concession. She clung to the pillow, Cassandra's scent still lingering on it from that morning.

She couldn't believe that Cassandra was gone, but the empty space in the bed beside her was proof enough.

It was too much for her to accept, to really believe that Cassandra had left her, that she was on her way to California.

I just don't love you anymore.

The words were like a dagger to the heart, killing her slowly as she struggled to pull it out.

She got up and went to the bathroom, gazing at the tired broken reflection staring back at her from the long mirror sitting over the sink.

Just yesterday she had been smiling and laughing with Cassandra until she dropped the news that she was leaving her.

We both knew this wouldn't work out. It's time we moved on.

What had ever happened to forever? To the promises they had made, the nights spent talking into the late hours of the morning, had they all been lies?

The alarm went off, the clock blinking 5 o'clock, meaning she had to get ready to go to the university.

She rushed through her morning ritual, and hurried out the house at around 6:30, ignoring breakfast. When she reached the campus, it was empty, save for the few students who had come early and sat at some of the benches beneath the trees.

Another day of long classes, dumb questions and annoying kids, not that she hated her job as the Arts professor. She had worked hard to prove to everyone that her old professor was right to recommend her after he retired and she knew it was the best opportunity an artist like her could have gotten right out of University.

She trekked to her class, setting out her material for her first session, which sadly was at 8:15, giving her no time to rest. She hated the morning classes more than the students she was sure because at least they didn't get shit for coming in pajamas.

She dug through the drawers of her desk, and pulled out several markers and set to writing her name and the cliche title of the course, Art 101, on the whiteboard.

Satisfied, but still left with at least half an hour before her class, she sat down at one of the desks in the front row and began doodling on a sketchpad.

"Early for class, aren't you?"

Giana looked up with a start, surprised to see the tall young man sitting beside her. Before she could reply several other students came into the room and started taking their seats.

It was 8:15 already?

"Instructor's late. Do you know who he is? I bet its some cranky old man who thinks he should have been a famous artist, and not teaching a bunch of amateurs in this class," the guy from earlier teased.

Giana didn't reply, instead getting up and looking to see if any other students were coming. When she was sure most of her students were there, she picked up her sketchpad and walked over to the whiteboard.

"I'm Giana Lace, and I'm your instructor this year."

The students stared at her as if waiting for her to say 'gotcha' or 'just kidding'. She got this every year and had grown accustomed to people being surprised at how young she looked. In all reality, she wasn't much older than most of them, but she looked even younger than her age, which was a bit troublesome.

"Any questions?" She asked once the students seemed to get over their surprise.

"How old are you?" Someone called from the third row.

"Twenty-four. This is my third year teaching, so don't underestimate me because of my age.

Murmurs erupted around the class, but she ignored it and began teaching her class, testing their knowledge, and discussing unique techniques used by artists of the different time periods.

Time seemed to fly, and before she knew it, her phone was buzzing in her pocket to signal the end of class.

"If anyone needs help, don't hesitate to email me, or come and meet me after class."

She wrote her email address on the board and watched as the students filed out of the room. She didn't have another class for an hour, so she could get something to eat if none of them came up with a torrent of questions.

As she was about to leave she stopped, surprised to see one student still in her seat, scribbling in a notepad. She vaguely felt a sense of familiarity when she looked at the girl, sure she had seen her somewhere before but brushed it off.

"Class is over," she said, walking up to the girl who did quite seem to hear her.

She peered over the student's shoulder, looking at the yellow legal pad, but the girl snapped up from her seat, pulling the pad to her chest before running out of the room without so much as a word.

Giana shook her head at the girl's behaviour, excusing it. She had seen many interesting students, and those always proved to be the most gifted. Oddly enough, she found herself wanting to see whatever the girl had been drawing.

Something on the floor caught her eye. She picked up the small, wooden locket carved into the shape of a heart and opened it in search of the owner's name. Inside was a picture, a smaller version of the girl, with brown hair instead of black, standing between a couple Giana assumed were her parents, the name Bianca engraved into the wood on the other side.

She slipped the locket into her pocket, thinking to use it as a sort of bribe to see what the girl had been sketching so earnestly on the notepad.

Her day went by with the same pattern, greeting new students, her courses being mainly with beginners. She didn't have any classes with her older students until Thursday, which was two days away.

She pulled her green and yellow patchwork trench coat tighter around her, the weather having gotten colder than it had been that morning, the faint drizzle of rain making her shiver as she made her way to her car.

She had seen the girl, Bianca, twice that day, and both times she had turned and gone in the opposite direction the moment she saw Giana, almost as though avoiding her. It was funny, as she remembered being sort of like that when she had been in university herself.

Traffic was slow, and it took her half an hour to get back to her house.

The house felt empty when she entered, dropping her coat and bag on the couch.

Maybe it's time I changed things up a bit, she thought to herself, staring around the room that spoke more of Cassandra than of her own tastes.

When Cassandra had moved in and insisted on getting rid of the 'dreary' paintings and dull colours, Giana had let her do what she wanted, painting over the walls, adding furniture and so much more that almost all traces of Giana were lost.

Giana got up and took the bright sunny landscapes off the wall. Not that they weren't lovely, but they were not the things she would put in her place. Bit by bit she put away the floral vases, the yellow doilies, the cute figurines. None of it was her.

The white walls sat empty, the coffee table and shelves bare, and strangely, even though the room was empty, it felt better, but there was more to do. She got out her paints and set to work, painting her pains, her sorrow, her joy, everything that she felt on the walls that were once Cassandra's, reclaiming them as her own.

The sun was already rearing its head when she finished, and she felt refreshed even after a night without sleep.

There were no classes until later that morning so she took her time getting ready, sitting down for breakfast, admiring the lines and swirls of the mystical landscapes that replaced the sunny wonderlands of before, the red sandy desert that gave Giana comfort, the raging sea that was a piece of her soul.

She'd pulled out all the things that Cassandra had stored away, saying they disturbed her, or didn't fit in. The paintings of lost galaxies, dark nights, and dreams better forgotten, things Cassandra never understood.

She was finally free, free of Cassandra. She wasn't going back now.