Alex's (POV)

  I stare down at my half eaten plate of mashed potatoes and pork, pieces of hair falling down over my eyes from the way my head is angled. My fork absentmindedly picks at the scoop of white potatoes, my appetite for today already quenched.

  The sound of both Lucy and Don's silverware clinking against their plates being the only sound surrounding the room.

  Mack and Polly left about an hour ago. Mack's mom picking them up early due to some something.

  Before that, and after Mack had basically dragged me downstairs, we mostly just sat around in the kitchen while Lucy cooked. The occasional random conversation starting up between Lucy, Don, Mack, and Polly. Who of course all tried to get me to join in.

Not much luck there sadly.

I slouch further in my seat, feeling even more horrible than I already did.

They're just trying to help. To be there. And what do you keep doing - just like you always do?

  I push them away.

  I force another small forkful of potatoes in my mouth, feeling my stomach squirm in discomfort despite how dormant my stomach injury has been.

I don't mean to push them away. I've tried to act like it all wasn't much of a big deal, to play it off like I'm absolutely fine.

But I don't think they're buying it.

I glance over at Don who's sitting to my immediate left, at the head of the table. Then over to Lucy, who's on Don's left before focusing back down on my food.

  But they just don't understand. They insist I constantly have someone around to keep me company when all I really want is privacy.

  I can't let them see how much everything has really affected me....I can't. They mean too much, and I can't bear the thought of them thinking I'm more of a mess then they think, a....a mistake.

"A no-good, worthless, killer, pathetic, valueless, mistake of a child!"

  I cringe from the sudden explosion of words in my head, instantly clamping down on the memory as my heart catches in my chest. Hand tightening around my fork.

  And if that means spacing myself from the people I've come to care for, to keep them safe.

  Then I'll do it.

  I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me.

  I glance down at my lap, checking the time on the wristwatch attached to my left wrist that's laying motionless on my lap.

6:47 P.M.

My heart squeezes, throat drying.

Looking back up at my plate, I grab the small plastic cup containing my medication, quickly pouring them into my mouth before I wash them down with a drink of water.

I don't know how much I'm taking now. Or even what. It doesn't really concern me enough right now to pay attention.

Because you're no-good.

I set my jaw, lips forming a frown as my body tenses. Blowing a slow breath out, I relax my muscles, forcing my mouth into a small smile.

"Thank you for supper." I say just loud enough to be heard, Don and Lucy immediately looking over at me with mild surprise.

  I push my chair back, scooting my plate forward a inch as I stand up. "I'm going to get ready for....bed." I grab my plate with my right hand, quickly glancing back over at them one more time.

  "Goodnight." I turn towards the sink, walking forward.

  I hear a soft reply from Don, who sounds completely surprised. But Lucy stays quiet.

  Maybe talking more will distract them from prying too deeply into my other....problems? At least, that's what I'm hoping.

  Give them something new = Distraction from other problems.

  I scrape the access food off my plate and into the trashcan, using my right hand to hold it as I use my left to run the fork over the surface.

  Placing it on the counter, I turn around. My heart immediately jumps again as I suddenly find a pair of arms wrapping around my torso, my face mostly likely contorting to one of shock. A hint of fear leaking from my eyes.

I immediately calm down as I realize it's Lucy. She's standing in front of me, her arms wrapped in a comforting embrace around my torso. Her head that only makes it to the beginning of my neck, resting against my chest.

Her calming warmth instantly envelops me, along with a feeling of security and belonging that wraps around my throat. Soothing me for a few seconds.

I force myself to hold it together as my eyes grow warm with unshed tears, my breathing catching every few spurts as it gets harder to control.

Keep it in. You can do it.

She looks up at me, and I can't help but look into her soft eyes that shine with a kindness and gentleness that only few are ever blessed with. Like she'd walk up a mountain barefoot for someone if they asked.

"If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Okay?" She gives me a small smile, her voice quiet but with a strength that shows she genuinely means every word.

I swallow thickly, looking away from her piercing eyes. Giving her a curt nod, I step back from her embrace. Yet my body screams to return to it.

"Okay." I agree, keeping my face angled away from her as I nervously rub my left arm with my right hand.

"Goodnight." Her eyes stay trained on my face, hesitation in her features.

  Turning away, I briskly walk the few yards towards the door, quickly opening it and disappearing through it.

  I immediately lean up against the wall beside the staircase, pushing my head back against it as I fervently blink my eyes.

My tight throat makes it nearly impossible to draw any oxygen out, the burning behind my eyes only growing warmer as my heart beats much too quickly in my chest.

  Too many sensations, too many emotions!

  My hands fist at my sides, and I dig my head further back against the wall as I contain the sob that so desperately wants out.

  A itching sensation abruptly begins to grow on the insides of my wrist, the insides of my forearms. Only helping to make the situation more unbearable and disheartening.

  Why does everything always have to be so complicated? So....so painful? Why does every little thing remind me of something I don't want to remember? Why does every little sentimental gesture reduce me to....to this?!

  "Keep it in. You wouldn't want the browns' to see you otherwise. They'd be disgusted in you, and you know it."

  I swallow back the wave of emotions, drawing deep breaths in and out through my nose as I force myself to step away from the wall.

  It's true. They would be.

  I carry myself up the stairs, feet dragging as I practically feel like I'm about to fall down and not be able to get up. The void in my chest only growing.

  There's been a hollowness somewhere deep in my chest ever since Saturday morning, and what seems like a permanent tightness to it. I constantly feel tired despite all the dreamless sleep I've somehow been getting these last few days, my head fuzzy.

Except that one night when....you-know-who showed up. Other than that though, my sleep has been....blissful almost.

  Must have been all the pain medicine I was jacked up on.

And it only gets worse. Seeming like it's never to go away. Like it's my weight to bear, my punishment for everything.

  Punishment.

  My breath catches, chest rising and falling quicker as I push my door open. The cold air immediately washes over my boiling skin, easing the now pins of heat that prickle at my wrist. The room almost pitch black as the sun sets off in the distance.

Darkness.

I shut the door behind me, walking across the room before practically collapsing down on the side of my bed.

  I dig the heel of my hands into my aching eyes, leaning over my lap as I rest my elbows on my knees. Digging them into my skin.

  Breathe Alex. Breathe.

  I blow shallow breaths out, gently rocking back and forth from my seat as images flash before my mind. Tormenting me.

Pow.

  I flinch away from the loud, prominent sound only I can hear as I grip my head with my hands. Repeatedly echoing in my ears, as-if I was still laying there. Watching helplessly as my finger pushed against the trigger.

"I'm closer than you think."

  Fear claws at my throat, hands repeatedly running through my hair. Tugging in hopes it'll help keep me grounded.

  "And I'll strike when you least expect it."

The pins and needles in my wrists suddenly become unbearable, and I lower my hands back to my lap. Using my left hand, I furiously scratch at the skin on the inside of my right wrist. Barely even registering the fact I'm doing it as voices upon voices seem to all crash down on me.

  "They'd be disgusted in you, and you know it."

  I unconsciously nod in agreement, eyes closing shut as my breathing picks up. A few tears leak from my eyes, throat painfully tight and sore.

  No. They can't know, can't see. What would they think of me if they knew? If they knew everything?! I've killed. Multiple times. And even if they were evil, they were still human no matter how horrible they were.

  I've done things, things I regret. Things they can't know about.

  I slide down off the bed onto the floor, folding my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them as I ride out this low-key panic attack. Ignoring the sizzling pain that comes with moving my shoulder.

  Deserved pain.

*Time Skip*

  I run my right arm over my eyes, using the fabric to absorb any leftover tears as I raise my head up from its position against my knees.

  I take a unsteady, shallow breath, feeling completely drained along with shaky and unhinged.

  I just had a panic attack.

  There's a spark of annoyance somewhere back in my head, a tug in my chest.

  Worthless.

  One they could've seen.

  Wiping my face completely off, I rest back against the bed a few minutes before I force myself into a standing position. Needing to hold the bed a second as the floor swirls beneath my feet.

  Alright, come on Alex. You're used to this. Bathroom. Shower. Bed.

  Simple.

  I look down as I feel a heat radiate off the inside of my right wrist. Using my left hand, I slowly tug the sleeve up.

  My heart jumps into my throat as I take in the red and irritated mark that now resides on my tender skin, my pale complexion only making it more noticeable. Right next to the prominent scar. Wild and frantic scratch marks evident.

  I quickly jerk the sleeve down, looking away as I wrap my left hand around it like it might actually help conceal it better. Heart thundering in my ears.

  There's a stab of shame that washes over me, my hand tightening around it so hard I can feel the irritated heat through the fabric.

  It's nothing. You simply did it without realizing. It doesn't mean anything....not really.

  I shakily walk towards my clothes dresser, quickly grabbing my pj's that still reside here after all those weeks.

  My stomach clenches.

  Don't think about it.

  A quick check of my watch reveals it's five minutes past seven. Slowly pulling the door open, I quickly walk towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

  Locking it, I hang my clothes up on the hook attached to the wall as I make my way towards the single sink. Turning the faucet on cold, I let it run a few seconds. Pulling the sleeve back from my right wrist once again after I've deemed the water cold enough, I hold my own throbbing wrist under the water.

  There's instant relief from the uncomfortable heat, feeling similar to what a rug burn feels like when placed under water.

  Yet it doesn't help quench the rapid stream of thoughts running through my head.

  Failure.

  I glance up, catching my reflection in the large mirror that hangs above the sink.

  I look tired. Dark smudges rest under each eye, and there's a hollow, haunted look to them. Like I've been sick for months and it's finally catching up to me. My cheeks look more filled out even to my own eyes, yet there's still a sharpness to them. My hair looks more like a mess than a actual hairdo, and my face appears too pale.

  I look like some 'bad boy' delinquent that's been on the run for more than half his life. Weary and wary. Anxious and distrusting.

  Pathetic.

I avoid the two prominent scars on the left side of my face, quickly stripping and running through the shower to get the remaining grime off from the...underground and clinic.

  Not that it was dirty....I just don't like hospitals.

Ignoring all the unwanted thoughts and memories that plague my mind, I redress into my cotton pants and black long-sleeve shirt.

Running my fingers through my hair to get any tangles out, I then gather my discarded clothes up before exiting the bathroom.

  I pause outside the bathroom, catching the sound of Don and Lucy's voices from downstairs. My body unconsciously leaning closer towards the stairway.

  I shouldn't....

Before I even realize I'm moving, I've already placed my clothes by the stairs and gone halfway down them.

  What am I doing? I can't eavesdrop on them...

  I stop beside the back door that leads to the kitchen, leaning back against the wall as I use my hand to push the swinging door open just a fraction. The voices suddenly making since instead of just sounding like muffled sounds.

  "-thing is obviously wrong." Don tells who I'm assuming is Lucy. "It's as plain as day. Even to you." His voice rises, catching me by surprise.

  He sounds almost...angry. Towards Lucy?

  "I didn't say I disagreed, Don." Lucy corrects, some bite even in her own voice. "He just needs...time."

  I feel like I've swallowed my heart, my left hand clinching by my side.

  Why should I feel surprised, or even mildly hurt that they're talking about me behind my back? They're adults. They can do what they want.

There's silence, and I get the feeling Don's shaking his head.

"No. I don't think that will work this time." Don says, his voice growing quieter. Almost too quiet for me to make out.

  "It's different now. He's....worse."

  There's a stab of hurt in my heart at Don's words, and I have to fight to keep my face straight despite them not being able to see me.

  Are they going to send me back? Am I too much for them?

"That may be true, but-" Don cuts Lucy off. "I know how you feel about him, Lucy. I know you want to protect him and comfort him yourself. To help him heal on his own."

  There's a sudden wave of sadness that washes over me, and I can't tell why exactly I feel like this.

  "He reminds me of him too...." Don trials off, and I catch the unmistakable sound of Lucy holding in a sob.

  My heart clenches at her silent tears, hating the fact that I'm partially at fault for them. But his words continue to circle in my head.

  Who?

  I remind them of someone they knew?

A thought slithers into my mind, and I can't do anything to hold it back.

Am I simply a....replacement for them?

I immediately shake my head at my own silly thought, completely dismissing it. Yet I can still feel it somewhere back in the cobwebs of my mind. Waiting to be let loose again.

"It won't work like that." Don continues after a few minutes. "He needs professional help."

  Lucy speaks up. "Yes but-"

  "For gods sake, woman. He killed a man for heavens sake! He needs help. Real help."

  I suddenly feel like all the air has been vacuumed out of the room, and I push my head back against the wall. Feeling completely hopeless and slightly betrayed.

  They already hate me. I can tell. I'm nothing but a....charity case to them. A child that's been degraded over, and over again.

  I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away.

  The tense silence on the other end of the door continues. But then Lucy's timid voice breaks it.

  "Alright.-"

  And that's all I catch before I release the door and step away, a almost numbing sensation running through my body as my heart picks back up. Shock?

  Snapping myself out of my stupor, I quietly race back up the stairs, grabbing my pile of clothes as I walk by them. Shutting myself back in my now pitch black room, I toss my clothes in the hamper, taking a seat over in the corner of the room.

They don't care for you. It's been a act since the beginning. You're simply a charity case for them to brag about to all their friends.

I retake the position with my knees up to my chest, tightening my arms around them as I work to block the unwanted and hurtful thoughts out.

  You're nothing to them. They even admitted that you're a murderer. A killer.

I lay my head back against the hard wall, drawing in deep breaths. Concentrating on the dark blanket that surrounds me. Feeling the fear from the darkness and letting it take over instead of facing my thoughts.

A wall of black. So thick it feels like you can't breathe. Fear clawing up your throat until you think you're about to throw-up.

  My left hand unconsciously finds my right. Itching at the already raw skin as it begins to sizzle and itch with renewed strength.

  And I let myself. Curled up in the farthest corner of the dark room. Waiting for this nightmare to end.

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A/N

   So, quite the deep chapter here. Just like I warned. (And they're only going to get deeper and darker.)
 
  Long chapter too! The second one in a week! The continuation of this one will be up by the beginning of next week hopefully.

Questions:

  1.) How does Don and Lucy's conversation Alex eavesdropped on make you feel? Do you think Alex is just their charity case, or was Alex just reading too much into it and doesn't know the whole story?

  Alright, you know the drill. VOTE!! Comment!!

Maggy