Alex III
I was planning on finishing my "short"; Aishe fiction before i moved on, but i got the wild hair to write this today and i want to do something with it...so here you go. believe it or not (lol sarcasm) i have tons of stuff written about Alex. i should. he's the center of my whole fiction universe. my "main character" if thats what you want to call him. in my little world, it's all about Alex. but i dont usually do it in the first person. at least not on paper XD if you dont know me well, Alex is the guy (yes, guy) in my icon up there. thats the doll version (one of them). the original, drawn version can be seen over and over again on my DA page.
What you should know: the two characters that appear in this part, Alex and David are vampires. this story is the second part in what i hope will be the all text intro to my WIP graphic novel "Forgotten Children." There is no editing at all. so no making fun!
not to mention, i wrote part two at four different times, with lots of space in between, so its probably a little choppy...*doh* but now i can move on to part three!! yay! or not...
part one and two of part one are in the previous journal posts.
The First Time
Part Two - Going Downhill
The furniture in the kitchen had been shoved roughly to the walls, dishes and other kitchen things were laying in broken heaps about the floor and the room had not stopped shaking. Jesse was wailing in the corner and even David had enough sense to look nervous.
I had known this wasn’t going to be a good day when I got up, after not having slept at all, headed down to breakfast (yes, we still call it that despite eating it sometime around late evening), only to discover that the coffee was out and no one had bothered to go get any before I got up. Thus I had to start an already crappy day with no coffee.
Unable to focus my poor non-caffeinated brain on much more than the TV, I spent most of the night on the couch staring, not watching, and waiting until I could just go back to bed with out it being a big deal. I couldn’t bring myself to eat much so my medication was making me feel sick, the television sucked and I was tired of pretending I was ok every time someone came in and noticed my zombie-like appearance so I gave up and started to trudge back up to my room.
That was when David decided to hit me with this crap.
This was worse than the hair thing. Much worse. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him and I could taste the blood in my mouth. I was so upset I was shaking, my hands were clenched in tight fists and the worst part was, I was having trouble controlling myself.
Which is how everything got broken. Oops.
It could have been worse. Usually when I lose control, there’s fire.
“You need to calm down.”
“And you need to leave me alone!”
“This isn’t about you Alex. It’s about all of us.”
“Stop it! Stop giving me all your guilt BULLshit! I’m so sick of it!”
“Just listen to me¬-“
“NO!”
“Dammit, listen to me! We will never get hired with you looking like that!”
Jesse was still crying. After that last outburst, she sniffled loudly and David looked at her. “Jesse, please leave. I really need to talk to Alex alone.”
“But -“
“It’s ok. Just go. We’ll clean this up, wont we Alex?”
“Fuck off. I’m not doing shit.”
He sighed, put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor for a moment gathering his thoughts. I could feel his frustration with me, and it made my own emotional state a little more chaotic.
“You can’t have those things on your face.” He said, finally looking up at me.
“You…you can’t make me take them out.” Those things he was referring too, were the aforementioned and numerous facial piercings I’d more or less done to myself over the last decade. I had quite a few, but the ones he hated and wanted gone the most were connected by a chain that threaded through a hoop in my lip to one in my nose, my earlobe up through the cartilage in that same ear and finally through two hoops in my eyebrow, brushing my face when I moved. I had two more in my lips, five altogether in my eyebrows and both ears were pierced all the way up, but the ones with chain were the worst. I’ll admit it was a little obnoxious and distracting, and probably unprofessional, but I didn’t want to give it up. Not for a stupid job I didn’t even want to do in the first place.
“I will make you take them out if I have to rip them right off my self! You agreed to this, and we’ve worked hard to get you ready and I am not going to miss out just because you want a bunch of freaking pieces of metal in your face!”
In case you were wondering how he was able to get so many words in one speech, I was simply too shocked that he would speak like that to me to interrupt.
“Now stop being such selfish brat and take them out! You can even leave some of the less…less hideous ones. Like your ears, or something. That wouldn’t be too bad, no one would even see them.”
“But…”
“This isn’t the end of the world. Just take them out and deal with it.”
I looked at him then, and all at once I realized the real problem wasn’t that he wanted me to remove the piercings from my face and I just didn’t want to. The real problem was me. Or rather, it ‘s the lack of me. I have so little control over who and what I am anymore. I hear and feel things that aren’t mine or from me at all. I do what I’m told to do by people who think they know what’s best for me whether I want to or not. I have all these abilities and I cant live a normal or even somewhat normal life because I can’t deal with them physically or emotionally. I spend my whole life trying to hide from whatever is out there that might break what tiny control I do have.
So these tiny details, like my appearance, that I do have a little control over are so important to me. I have to cling to them as hard as I can. And having someone else, no matter who it is, tell me I can’t have that small freedom anymore…hurts. And it scares me, because I am so afraid of what I’m going to be losing next.
And feeling David stand there, thinking that I’m just being stubborn or childish makes me realize he will never even remotely understand how I feel. I could make him feel it. I could force him to feel my hurt, fear and confusion, but he still wouldn’t truly get it. And that’s why he’s telling me what to do and how to do it.
It’s also why I feel so damn lonely all the time.
And being lonely just makes me so mad.
My pause makes him speak up again, thinking its time resume and end this “discussion.”
“C’mon Alex, its not going to kill you to take them out. If you get a chance later in the future you can always put them back in. I don’t get why you’re making this into such a big deal.”
Irrational anger blinds me completely for a moment. There is no real reason why I should be so mad, but the realization only makes it worse. Knowing David is right makes it worse. I can’t take this much longer.
“Fine. Fine. You win.”
I can feel his emotions swelling in horror, his thoughts are not coherent enough to form concrete images or words but he knows what I’m about to do and knows he can’t stop me. My fingers curl around the chains connecting the metal bits in my flesh and with one sharp pull, I yank them out.
Blood drips in an unsteady stream to the floor. I drop the mess at his feet and turn away, heading for my room. There is no triumph (I didn’t expect to feel any, I so rarely do), I only feel sick and broken inside. I takes me forever to get to my room, I didn’t want to wait for the elevator so I took the stairs, and by the time I get there I’m shaking so hard I barely make to my bed before I collapse in a miserable heap.
And I have to go take that damn test tomorrow. That stupid test that’s supposed to prove I’m a competent enough psychic to handle the jobs they’re going to throw at me. I have to pass, to do well, better than all these others, but in a way that doesn’t revel the truth. That I’m not the level four psychic I’m registered as but much, much stronger. So much so that if it was discovered I’d get thrown in a cell and experimented on until I’ve been destroyed inside and out and I have no memory of myself. Again.
I can’t go through that again, I just…can’t! And saying I’d rather die is redundant. But if I stay in here I’ll rot or wither away or go insane. So I’ll go take the stupid test so I can do a job I don’t want any part of and let myself be used. I’ll trade away the tiny freedom I had In exchange for this one. I’ll do it so I can go outside for the first time in a century and pretend I’m normal. If I don’t keep telling myself that, I’ll do something stupid. Stupider.
Of course there is always the possibility that I’ll screw it up and all this will all be utterly worthless. But hey, that’s life right?
End of Part Two
to be continued...
you know the spiel. all the characters, the doll and every part of this belong to me. even think about stealing and you will so regret it. thanks! have a nice day^^