When she felt she was finally far enough away from Frankie, Tatum actually stopped running. She had a terrible stitch in her side, and slouched over a bit almost as soon as she stopped, gasping for breath. Between the crying and the running, she was sure anyone who saw her must have thought she had really gone mental or something.

She felt exhausted, smoking and getting worked up taking off like that didn't go together. She felt like her lungs were going to burst. She made her way over to the side of the building, hearing the dance going on inside, she leaned up to the wall, closing her eyes.

Her cheeks were still soaked with tears, and she probably had mascara running everywhere. Her dress, already nothing to be admired, had fallen again. She gave it a great yank up, and fumbled around until she had another cigarette out.

She lit it up with shaking hands, and leaned back more fully on the wall, beginning to cry again.

This was officially the worst night of her life to date.