The Fighters Journal (Chapter Six)
Title: The Fighters Journal (Chapter Six)
Author: TheAllTimeLow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: self-harm, suicidal tendencies, depression
Pairing: Alex/Jack
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the creative thought process behind the writing.
Summary: Rose Hill is hope for the hopeless and I was the most hopeful of them all. That was until I met Alex. When I first saw him I couldn't believe someone so broken could still be living.
Author Notes: An update finally! This one is a long one because it's been so long. Sorry I suck so much at updating this fanfic. I honestly think it is the best thing I've ever written, and I hope with more motivation I can continue to write it for you. Look forward to some fun fluffy chapters in the future and keep leaving comments. They make my day.
Also please excuse any grammatical errors. I don't have a beta and sometimes my execution of certain things just sucks.
Master Post - Previous Chapter
The next few days passed by uneventful, and extremely ordinary. Alex continued to follow the schedule I had given him and I idly found myself wondering about the thoughts surely running through his head. On the outside he looked calm, but I knew that behind those eyes there was something buried away just screaming to come out. I wondered how he held it in. Usually the people I worked with had family who would come and visit and they'd sit in my office and cry, and plead, and beg for me to try and explain to them what was happening; why was their loved one cutting, or burning, or trying to kill themselves? Why them, why us, why, why, why? Everyone always wanted answers. And though I didn't blame them, it was exhausting try to explain something like depression to someone who had never truly felt it.
I couldn't count with every stand on my head the number of times someone has nonchalantly told me how "depressing" something is or how "depressed" they are over something trivial. They think that because something has made them sad in passing, that they may casually throw around the word.
If only they knew the true horrors of depression.
Once, I tried to explain it to a couple whose daughter had come to Rose Hill after two weeks in an IC unit when she overdosed on prescription drugs. I tried to explain to them how depression was like this darkness in your life that starts out as a shadow. How it lingers at your shoulder on sunny days trying to drown out the warmth, nips at your heels during happy moments as a sharp reminder that your joy will never last, and how it begins to wrap itself around your every thought. You feel like you're at the bottom of this pit and you can't see the top. You want to scream for help, but it's like the world's forgotten about you, and you don't understand what you did wrong to deserve it. Nothing makes sense and everything you thought you cared about doesn't matter anymore, because everything you thought you knew suddenly seems pointless.
Because you can't run away from yourself, and you can't stop thinking your own thoughts, and every time you look in the mirror you're reminded of everything you hate about yourself, and there's nothing you can do to make it better. Waking up in the morning becomes the hardest thing you have to do and you spend your days and nights wishing for a way out. You constantly think about how you want to die, but you know deep down that that's not what you want because what you really want, what you would give anything for, is to stop having to feel all these terrible things. You're tired and hurt and broken and looking for an escape, and death feels like the only possible solution.
That's what depression is.
It's feeling so trapped by your own thoughts that you kill yourself from the inside.
I remember they just shook their heads frantically, refusing to believe any of it. They couldn't believe that their over-achiever, perfectly happy, little girl could ever have thought those things. Because she always smiled, and she always laughed, and she never looked sad.
"That's the thing about depression," I said. "You can never tell from the outside what someone may be fighting on the inside."
It was Alex's second Group day before anything out of the ordinary happened.
After his comment in his journal about the chairs, I watched closely to see which chair Alex picked and also noted the one I had always chosen to sit in ever since the board arranged these meetings. Alex chose the soft oak bark coloured rocking chair with black cushions, but I realized that I never saw him rock in it. He just sat there quietly. The finely finished wood of the chair was engraved with delicate flowers and vines that weaved around its legs and up into the arms like intricate little tendrils. Meanwhile, the plain, blunt black of the cushions was a direct contrast to the softness of the seat they were placed on.
Did that mean Alex felt like he was this intricate, complexly fragile person, but there was also this turmoil that clashed and covered that; something dark, and out of place.
I looked down at my chair.
It was leather that looked modernized, but if you looked really closely at it, you could see the faint wear and tear of normal use that gave away the history of how many bodies had sat in my same position. I chose it -I thought- because it looked like the comfiest chair in the room. Now I wondered if it was because I liked how no matter how much the world tried to make it into something accepted, it still held on to the scars of a past. How it seemed to blend in until you really took the time to look at it and see what one would miss with a passing glance.
Or maybe you're crazy and looking too much into this stuff?
"Shut up, brain. No one ever asks you."
"Pardon? Did you have something you wanted to say, Jack?"
I looked up at The Boss, trying to ignore everyone else in the room who was suddenly staring intently at me like I was crazy. "No, Ma'am. Just thinking out loud. Sorry."
She smiled. "Well, at least you're setting an example on speaking your thoughts."
Without another word my way, she began her usual questioning around the room. People who wished to talk would talk, and those who didn't would be encouraged until they said at least one little thing. The Boss was never happy until everyone in the room had said something. When she finally got to Alex, I held my breath unintentionally.
"How about you, Alex? Anything you want to share this time?" He shook his head, and her eyebrows furrowed. She never took no for an answer. "Really? How about you just tell us... I don't know - something you've experienced at Rose Hill so far? How are you adjusting? Do you miss home at all? Come on, give us something. Everyone has to talk in Group."
"I don't feel like talking today," Alex mumbled quietly.
"Look, we're not leaving here until you say something," she said as she crossed her arms.
"I really don't want to talk. So please just leave it at that?"
"Sorry, no."
"Really I-"
"Just say something, anything."
"No."
"Alex."
The words were just forming on my tongue and I was halfway risen from my chair to intervene when Alex shot up from his seat, pushing back so hard that it nearly tipped over. The room fell silent as it creaked back and forth on its rockers; the first time I'd seen it move since he'd sat down almost two hours ago. Alex stood, body ridged and fists clenched.
The Boss cleared her throat.
"Don't!" Alex shouted. "Just don't say anything to me." He grabbed his bandaged arm with the opposite hand and dug the tips of his fingers into where I knew unhealed cuts still lay. "Why? Why does everyone always have to get in the way? Why can't I just be left alone to die?"
Security had begun to slowly make their way in to the center of the room ever since he had rose from the rocking chair, and my heart began to pound as I saw one of them reach into their pocket for a needle filled with medication meant to sedate out of control patients. This was getting bad fast and I knew I had to step in before things got worse. I could already see fresh blood soaking through the bandage in ugly red blotches.
"Hey, Alex... let's just go, man. We'll hang out in my office or we can just go out for a walk and hang out for a bit or something," I said as nonchalantly as I could.
Alex's eyes turned on me and I was shocked by the coldness they held.
I glanced down at the black cushion and for the first time saw the same blackness in his once warm eyes.
"I fucking hate you!" He screamed, lunging at me as he went.
Security made a dive and in seconds one had his feet restrained, while the other had his arms pinned against his sides in an arm lock. I yelled for them to stop but a third was already administering the shot. With tears forming in my eyes I watched as Alex's thrashing body slowly came to lay still and they carried him out of the Group room.
~.~
It was three days later before I was allowed to see him.
Alone in the padded room, his eyes had begun to hollow slightly and he looked tired and frail. He was leaned up against the wall that faced the only window in the room set high on the wall, and barred to ensure no one would escape. For the first two days he had worn the straight-jacket so he wouldn't hurt himself. I walked into the room and sat beside him, biting my lip as I looked for the second time at the broken boy I'd seen for the first time less than two weeks ago.
"Hey, Alex." I whispered.
He positioned himself so that his head was still supported by the wall, but so his eyes were on me. My heart ached at the faint smile that briefly touched the corners of his lips and the faint outline of his dimples.
"Hey, Jack."
I sighed shakily and was surprised when tears began to form at the backs of my eyes. Alex frowned and set his hand on my shoulder; something I thought was truly remarkable for how exhausted he looked. And fuck, I didn't want to cry in front of him, but I couldn't help it. Remembering the last words he'd said to me before he was sedated felt like little daggers in my heart. I'd spent the last three days replaying them over and over in my mind and it bothered me how much they hurt.
"Shit, Jack... please don't cry. If you start crying, I'm gonna start crying, and then they'll put a jacket on you and you'll be stuck in here too." He smiled half-heartily and I tried to wipe a tear from my eye without him noticing as I purposefully put my back to the tiny viewing window in the door.
I tried to smile back at him, but it felt more like a grimace.
He sighed then; the sound of true defeat and utter tiredness. I watched his chest rise and fall silently while I waited for the words that hung heavily in the air between us. Finally, with eyes up toward the small patch of blue sky showing through the window, the hard black wall came down and I got my first true look at the complexly fragile Alex.
"Okay, first off... I just wanted you to know that I don't hate you," he closed his eyes for a moment and sucked in a huge breath of air before continuing. "Like, not even a little bit. You're probably the best person I've met in years and years, and shit, I was giving up hope that I'd ever meet someone who made me feel like caring about myself again. Sure as hell never would have guessed I'd find it here of all places." Alex shook his head in an attempt to fix his hair before using his fingers to sweep it off to the side and out of his face. I noticed how he would leave his hand there and play with the ends for a moment while he thought. "But I'm really glad I did."
"So am I," I blurted out automatically, and he smiled for a second before the sombre look returned to his face.
"I used to know a girl... her name was Lisa, and we used to go to school together. My friend Rian was friends with one of her friends, and so we ended up hanging out a lot and I got to know her." He paused as he smiled at some memory that must have been running through his head. "Man, was she ever pretty. But like, not in a totally traditional way, y'know? She used to make us watch these chick flicks and she'd curl up on the floor -even though there was a perfectly comfy couch available- and she'd just watch them so intently. After they were over, she'd cry and she'd ask me if I thought her life would ever be as good as the movies. I never had an answer, though. I thought it was kinda silly to invest so much emotion into a movie, but not her. She always talked about movies like her and the characters in it had been good friends. I never thought about it at the time, but it made her beautiful."
"I'd known her for about a year when things in my world started to go South. I spent a night with the wrong crowd and they got it in my head that I should steal some of my Mum's prescription medication for them. Of course, now when I look back on it, I know they were using me. But I was looking trouble... and man, did I ever find it. The first time Lisa caught me high on pills was at a little party of one of my new friends. She was so pissed as me. She said that it was either them, or her, and I had to decide right then and there. Fuck I was so out of my mind I hardly knew what I was saying. She stormed out of there screaming how she'd never speak to me again."
Alex's jaw clenched and his eyes fogged over with pain.
"She was so mad at me, that when she pulled out of the driveway, she didn't check if anyone was behind her. Someone coming to the party already wasted smashed into the side of her car." He wiped angrily at the tears that fell fast down his cheeks. "I was too doped out of my fucking mind to realize what had happened until the next day when I sobered up and Rian called me to tell me she'd been killed on impact."
My heart immediately tightened at the distraught on his face. I wanted to hug him and tell him that I was sorry, but telling him I was sorry felt meaningless. It didn't matter to Alex that I was sorry. Me being sorry didn't bring Lisa back. Me being sorry didn't make the loss hurt any less. If I hadn't been so painfully aware of the small windowed door where I was sure other members of the staff were intently keeping watch, I would have hugged him.
"Thursday... it was the anniversary of her death," Alex finally choked out. "I've never been able to handle it well. You know, I never went to her funeral?" He made a noise of pure disgust that I had no doubt was directed at himself. "How fucked is that? When I got Rian's call was the first time I tried to overdose and I spent her viewing laying in a hospital bed. Every year after that on the day I would do everything I could to forget it. I'd not sleep for days so I could sleep through it, or just stay in my room and not talk to anyone, or I'd cut..."
He placed his hand lightly over his fresh bandages and bit his lip. "The Boss... she looks a lot like Lisa."
Everything clicked very much into place then.
Why Alex didn't talk in Group, why he avoided Lily whenever he could, and more importantly why he blew up the way he did three days ago. How awful it must have been to have to face the day he'd been allowed to avoid for years, and not only that, but to have to face it while the ghost of your pain stood right before your very eyes. I saw a man once in passing on the street who looked like my father and that left me shaken for days.
I couldn't imagine being faced with it every single day.
"I hear you, Alex." I said quietly. "I don't want to say I understand, because really, no one can ever truly understand what it feels like for you. But I want you to know that I hear what you're saying, and I care, and I don't blame you for feeling how you feel."
It felt small, and weak, and insignificant in comparison, but Alex smiled anyways.
"Thanks, Jacky."
"Jacky?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows at him.
"Yup. It definitely suits you," Alex laughed and I had to laugh too because of how his eyes crinkled, and how his dimples framed his smile, and how his whole face lit up with happiness.
But the moment seemed to fade as soon as it had started and we both returned to the reality of the bleak, white padded room. I sighed. For the first time since I'd been at Rose Hill I wished for a place where I wasn't always surrounded by the gloom and hopelessness of the broken. And while I loved what I did, I'd be lying if I said always having to be strong for so many people never wore me out.
"So what happens to me now?" Alex asked, breaking the silence.
"Well... normally they would send you for a psych exam, and you'd be put on probation and possibly a psychiatric ward. But since you've been here for only a short period of time I think what happened on Thursday can be written off as you still adjusting and trying to deal with having to face emotions you've been numbing for so long prior to your arrival," I rolled my eyes at myself. "Sorry for the textbook crap talk. Sometimes I forget that I'm talking to you and not some uptight board member."
Alex nodded slowly. "Oh, and I wanted to ask you about something else."
"What's up?"
He looked down at the floor awkwardly. "During my first Group I noticed a board on the wall, something about passes, I think? Does that mean there is a day where I might get off campus privileges?"
"Right, I forgot to explain that," I mumbled, feeling a bit stupid. "There is kind of like a level system here just like with what you're allowed in your rooms. The higher level you are, the more freedom you get. Level one is two hours off campus supervised once a week, level two is the same thing but twice a week, and then the highest level is an hour off campus with no supervision by staff and just with family or friends."
"And how do you get your level up?" Alex asked hesitantly and the self-doubt emanated in his words.
I smiled in a way I hoped was encouraging. "The same way you're allowed more things in your room; you prove you can be trusted."
He nodded slowly to himself for a moment.
"And do you think this," he motioned around the room with his hand."Hurt my chances of getting to level one any time soon?"
I looked him dead in the eye, and just as a knock sounded against the door, I said with wholehearted sincerity, "No."
A nurse opened the door but Alex's eyes stayed on mine as they crinkled slightly at the corners.
"Thanks, Jacky."
Author: TheAllTimeLow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: self-harm, suicidal tendencies, depression
Pairing: Alex/Jack
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the creative thought process behind the writing.
Summary: Rose Hill is hope for the hopeless and I was the most hopeful of them all. That was until I met Alex. When I first saw him I couldn't believe someone so broken could still be living.
Author Notes: An update finally! This one is a long one because it's been so long. Sorry I suck so much at updating this fanfic. I honestly think it is the best thing I've ever written, and I hope with more motivation I can continue to write it for you. Look forward to some fun fluffy chapters in the future and keep leaving comments. They make my day.
Also please excuse any grammatical errors. I don't have a beta and sometimes my execution of certain things just sucks.
Master Post - Previous Chapter
The next few days passed by uneventful, and extremely ordinary. Alex continued to follow the schedule I had given him and I idly found myself wondering about the thoughts surely running through his head. On the outside he looked calm, but I knew that behind those eyes there was something buried away just screaming to come out. I wondered how he held it in. Usually the people I worked with had family who would come and visit and they'd sit in my office and cry, and plead, and beg for me to try and explain to them what was happening; why was their loved one cutting, or burning, or trying to kill themselves? Why them, why us, why, why, why? Everyone always wanted answers. And though I didn't blame them, it was exhausting try to explain something like depression to someone who had never truly felt it.
I couldn't count with every stand on my head the number of times someone has nonchalantly told me how "depressing" something is or how "depressed" they are over something trivial. They think that because something has made them sad in passing, that they may casually throw around the word.
If only they knew the true horrors of depression.
Once, I tried to explain it to a couple whose daughter had come to Rose Hill after two weeks in an IC unit when she overdosed on prescription drugs. I tried to explain to them how depression was like this darkness in your life that starts out as a shadow. How it lingers at your shoulder on sunny days trying to drown out the warmth, nips at your heels during happy moments as a sharp reminder that your joy will never last, and how it begins to wrap itself around your every thought. You feel like you're at the bottom of this pit and you can't see the top. You want to scream for help, but it's like the world's forgotten about you, and you don't understand what you did wrong to deserve it. Nothing makes sense and everything you thought you cared about doesn't matter anymore, because everything you thought you knew suddenly seems pointless.
Because you can't run away from yourself, and you can't stop thinking your own thoughts, and every time you look in the mirror you're reminded of everything you hate about yourself, and there's nothing you can do to make it better. Waking up in the morning becomes the hardest thing you have to do and you spend your days and nights wishing for a way out. You constantly think about how you want to die, but you know deep down that that's not what you want because what you really want, what you would give anything for, is to stop having to feel all these terrible things. You're tired and hurt and broken and looking for an escape, and death feels like the only possible solution.
That's what depression is.
It's feeling so trapped by your own thoughts that you kill yourself from the inside.
I remember they just shook their heads frantically, refusing to believe any of it. They couldn't believe that their over-achiever, perfectly happy, little girl could ever have thought those things. Because she always smiled, and she always laughed, and she never looked sad.
"That's the thing about depression," I said. "You can never tell from the outside what someone may be fighting on the inside."
It was Alex's second Group day before anything out of the ordinary happened.
After his comment in his journal about the chairs, I watched closely to see which chair Alex picked and also noted the one I had always chosen to sit in ever since the board arranged these meetings. Alex chose the soft oak bark coloured rocking chair with black cushions, but I realized that I never saw him rock in it. He just sat there quietly. The finely finished wood of the chair was engraved with delicate flowers and vines that weaved around its legs and up into the arms like intricate little tendrils. Meanwhile, the plain, blunt black of the cushions was a direct contrast to the softness of the seat they were placed on.
Did that mean Alex felt like he was this intricate, complexly fragile person, but there was also this turmoil that clashed and covered that; something dark, and out of place.
I looked down at my chair.
It was leather that looked modernized, but if you looked really closely at it, you could see the faint wear and tear of normal use that gave away the history of how many bodies had sat in my same position. I chose it -I thought- because it looked like the comfiest chair in the room. Now I wondered if it was because I liked how no matter how much the world tried to make it into something accepted, it still held on to the scars of a past. How it seemed to blend in until you really took the time to look at it and see what one would miss with a passing glance.
Or maybe you're crazy and looking too much into this stuff?
"Shut up, brain. No one ever asks you."
"Pardon? Did you have something you wanted to say, Jack?"
I looked up at The Boss, trying to ignore everyone else in the room who was suddenly staring intently at me like I was crazy. "No, Ma'am. Just thinking out loud. Sorry."
She smiled. "Well, at least you're setting an example on speaking your thoughts."
Without another word my way, she began her usual questioning around the room. People who wished to talk would talk, and those who didn't would be encouraged until they said at least one little thing. The Boss was never happy until everyone in the room had said something. When she finally got to Alex, I held my breath unintentionally.
"How about you, Alex? Anything you want to share this time?" He shook his head, and her eyebrows furrowed. She never took no for an answer. "Really? How about you just tell us... I don't know - something you've experienced at Rose Hill so far? How are you adjusting? Do you miss home at all? Come on, give us something. Everyone has to talk in Group."
"I don't feel like talking today," Alex mumbled quietly.
"Look, we're not leaving here until you say something," she said as she crossed her arms.
"I really don't want to talk. So please just leave it at that?"
"Sorry, no."
"Really I-"
"Just say something, anything."
"No."
"Alex."
The words were just forming on my tongue and I was halfway risen from my chair to intervene when Alex shot up from his seat, pushing back so hard that it nearly tipped over. The room fell silent as it creaked back and forth on its rockers; the first time I'd seen it move since he'd sat down almost two hours ago. Alex stood, body ridged and fists clenched.
The Boss cleared her throat.
"Don't!" Alex shouted. "Just don't say anything to me." He grabbed his bandaged arm with the opposite hand and dug the tips of his fingers into where I knew unhealed cuts still lay. "Why? Why does everyone always have to get in the way? Why can't I just be left alone to die?"
Security had begun to slowly make their way in to the center of the room ever since he had rose from the rocking chair, and my heart began to pound as I saw one of them reach into their pocket for a needle filled with medication meant to sedate out of control patients. This was getting bad fast and I knew I had to step in before things got worse. I could already see fresh blood soaking through the bandage in ugly red blotches.
"Hey, Alex... let's just go, man. We'll hang out in my office or we can just go out for a walk and hang out for a bit or something," I said as nonchalantly as I could.
Alex's eyes turned on me and I was shocked by the coldness they held.
I glanced down at the black cushion and for the first time saw the same blackness in his once warm eyes.
"I fucking hate you!" He screamed, lunging at me as he went.
Security made a dive and in seconds one had his feet restrained, while the other had his arms pinned against his sides in an arm lock. I yelled for them to stop but a third was already administering the shot. With tears forming in my eyes I watched as Alex's thrashing body slowly came to lay still and they carried him out of the Group room.
~.~
It was three days later before I was allowed to see him.
Alone in the padded room, his eyes had begun to hollow slightly and he looked tired and frail. He was leaned up against the wall that faced the only window in the room set high on the wall, and barred to ensure no one would escape. For the first two days he had worn the straight-jacket so he wouldn't hurt himself. I walked into the room and sat beside him, biting my lip as I looked for the second time at the broken boy I'd seen for the first time less than two weeks ago.
"Hey, Alex." I whispered.
He positioned himself so that his head was still supported by the wall, but so his eyes were on me. My heart ached at the faint smile that briefly touched the corners of his lips and the faint outline of his dimples.
"Hey, Jack."
I sighed shakily and was surprised when tears began to form at the backs of my eyes. Alex frowned and set his hand on my shoulder; something I thought was truly remarkable for how exhausted he looked. And fuck, I didn't want to cry in front of him, but I couldn't help it. Remembering the last words he'd said to me before he was sedated felt like little daggers in my heart. I'd spent the last three days replaying them over and over in my mind and it bothered me how much they hurt.
"Shit, Jack... please don't cry. If you start crying, I'm gonna start crying, and then they'll put a jacket on you and you'll be stuck in here too." He smiled half-heartily and I tried to wipe a tear from my eye without him noticing as I purposefully put my back to the tiny viewing window in the door.
I tried to smile back at him, but it felt more like a grimace.
He sighed then; the sound of true defeat and utter tiredness. I watched his chest rise and fall silently while I waited for the words that hung heavily in the air between us. Finally, with eyes up toward the small patch of blue sky showing through the window, the hard black wall came down and I got my first true look at the complexly fragile Alex.
"Okay, first off... I just wanted you to know that I don't hate you," he closed his eyes for a moment and sucked in a huge breath of air before continuing. "Like, not even a little bit. You're probably the best person I've met in years and years, and shit, I was giving up hope that I'd ever meet someone who made me feel like caring about myself again. Sure as hell never would have guessed I'd find it here of all places." Alex shook his head in an attempt to fix his hair before using his fingers to sweep it off to the side and out of his face. I noticed how he would leave his hand there and play with the ends for a moment while he thought. "But I'm really glad I did."
"So am I," I blurted out automatically, and he smiled for a second before the sombre look returned to his face.
"I used to know a girl... her name was Lisa, and we used to go to school together. My friend Rian was friends with one of her friends, and so we ended up hanging out a lot and I got to know her." He paused as he smiled at some memory that must have been running through his head. "Man, was she ever pretty. But like, not in a totally traditional way, y'know? She used to make us watch these chick flicks and she'd curl up on the floor -even though there was a perfectly comfy couch available- and she'd just watch them so intently. After they were over, she'd cry and she'd ask me if I thought her life would ever be as good as the movies. I never had an answer, though. I thought it was kinda silly to invest so much emotion into a movie, but not her. She always talked about movies like her and the characters in it had been good friends. I never thought about it at the time, but it made her beautiful."
"I'd known her for about a year when things in my world started to go South. I spent a night with the wrong crowd and they got it in my head that I should steal some of my Mum's prescription medication for them. Of course, now when I look back on it, I know they were using me. But I was looking trouble... and man, did I ever find it. The first time Lisa caught me high on pills was at a little party of one of my new friends. She was so pissed as me. She said that it was either them, or her, and I had to decide right then and there. Fuck I was so out of my mind I hardly knew what I was saying. She stormed out of there screaming how she'd never speak to me again."
Alex's jaw clenched and his eyes fogged over with pain.
"She was so mad at me, that when she pulled out of the driveway, she didn't check if anyone was behind her. Someone coming to the party already wasted smashed into the side of her car." He wiped angrily at the tears that fell fast down his cheeks. "I was too doped out of my fucking mind to realize what had happened until the next day when I sobered up and Rian called me to tell me she'd been killed on impact."
My heart immediately tightened at the distraught on his face. I wanted to hug him and tell him that I was sorry, but telling him I was sorry felt meaningless. It didn't matter to Alex that I was sorry. Me being sorry didn't bring Lisa back. Me being sorry didn't make the loss hurt any less. If I hadn't been so painfully aware of the small windowed door where I was sure other members of the staff were intently keeping watch, I would have hugged him.
"Thursday... it was the anniversary of her death," Alex finally choked out. "I've never been able to handle it well. You know, I never went to her funeral?" He made a noise of pure disgust that I had no doubt was directed at himself. "How fucked is that? When I got Rian's call was the first time I tried to overdose and I spent her viewing laying in a hospital bed. Every year after that on the day I would do everything I could to forget it. I'd not sleep for days so I could sleep through it, or just stay in my room and not talk to anyone, or I'd cut..."
He placed his hand lightly over his fresh bandages and bit his lip. "The Boss... she looks a lot like Lisa."
Everything clicked very much into place then.
Why Alex didn't talk in Group, why he avoided Lily whenever he could, and more importantly why he blew up the way he did three days ago. How awful it must have been to have to face the day he'd been allowed to avoid for years, and not only that, but to have to face it while the ghost of your pain stood right before your very eyes. I saw a man once in passing on the street who looked like my father and that left me shaken for days.
I couldn't imagine being faced with it every single day.
"I hear you, Alex." I said quietly. "I don't want to say I understand, because really, no one can ever truly understand what it feels like for you. But I want you to know that I hear what you're saying, and I care, and I don't blame you for feeling how you feel."
It felt small, and weak, and insignificant in comparison, but Alex smiled anyways.
"Thanks, Jacky."
"Jacky?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows at him.
"Yup. It definitely suits you," Alex laughed and I had to laugh too because of how his eyes crinkled, and how his dimples framed his smile, and how his whole face lit up with happiness.
But the moment seemed to fade as soon as it had started and we both returned to the reality of the bleak, white padded room. I sighed. For the first time since I'd been at Rose Hill I wished for a place where I wasn't always surrounded by the gloom and hopelessness of the broken. And while I loved what I did, I'd be lying if I said always having to be strong for so many people never wore me out.
"So what happens to me now?" Alex asked, breaking the silence.
"Well... normally they would send you for a psych exam, and you'd be put on probation and possibly a psychiatric ward. But since you've been here for only a short period of time I think what happened on Thursday can be written off as you still adjusting and trying to deal with having to face emotions you've been numbing for so long prior to your arrival," I rolled my eyes at myself. "Sorry for the textbook crap talk. Sometimes I forget that I'm talking to you and not some uptight board member."
Alex nodded slowly. "Oh, and I wanted to ask you about something else."
"What's up?"
He looked down at the floor awkwardly. "During my first Group I noticed a board on the wall, something about passes, I think? Does that mean there is a day where I might get off campus privileges?"
"Right, I forgot to explain that," I mumbled, feeling a bit stupid. "There is kind of like a level system here just like with what you're allowed in your rooms. The higher level you are, the more freedom you get. Level one is two hours off campus supervised once a week, level two is the same thing but twice a week, and then the highest level is an hour off campus with no supervision by staff and just with family or friends."
"And how do you get your level up?" Alex asked hesitantly and the self-doubt emanated in his words.
I smiled in a way I hoped was encouraging. "The same way you're allowed more things in your room; you prove you can be trusted."
He nodded slowly to himself for a moment.
"And do you think this," he motioned around the room with his hand."Hurt my chances of getting to level one any time soon?"
I looked him dead in the eye, and just as a knock sounded against the door, I said with wholehearted sincerity, "No."
A nurse opened the door but Alex's eyes stayed on mine as they crinkled slightly at the corners.
"Thanks, Jacky."