To prevent the peeling off of justandalwaysMo's (HI!) skin I am
providing another chapter. No questions will be answered though. Maybe the
third chapter. Beware. There is blood.
And now the story...
I fall to my knees and begin to sob as the pain returns.
"Why?" I sob over and over again, getting louder and louder until I'm
too choked to say anything.
"Mr. Davis? Are you all right?" A tentative voice asks from the open
door behind me.
No! Never again will I be 'all right'. I think unable to say it
because of the sobs wracking my body and the pain of my heart and soul
"Mr. Davis?" I feel a hand land on my shoulder and recoil from the
unfamiliar and unwanted touch. It's not *his* touch. Not *his* warmth.
"Mr. Davis, I'm going to call Mr. Lewis." I hear the person scurry
out the door.
Mr. Lewis. Alex. I have to get to Alex. I have to be with him.
Lurching to my feet, still sobbing, I stumble toward the kitchen.
Pushing through the door I stagger toward the island, where the kitchen
knives are kept. Drawing out the sharpest knife, I hold it gently, almost
lovingly. My sobs have quieted now that my decision is made.
Bringing the edge of the knife to my wrist, I tighten my hold and
press down hard. I drag the blade slowly across my skin, feeling no pain.
Only pleasure at the knowledge that I will soon be with Alex again. For all
eternity. I watch calmly as my blood wells up and runs sluggishly down my
arm. Red. His favorite color. The color of life and the color of death.
Death. Killing. Murderer. Murdered. Alex was murdered. I hope that
boy knows the pain he has caused. I want him to know that the man he
watched die was another man's life. That by killing Alex he killed me. I
want him to cry and beg for forgiveness to the same unmerciful god that
took away my love. That stupid child should pay, but I would rather be with
Sinking to my knees, I watch as the amount of blood increases. I'm
getting weaker. I'm going to die, but not soon enough. Putting the handle
of he knife between my teeth, deadly edge facing outward. I bring my
unmarked wrist upward pressing it to the blade, and I cut it as easily as
the first. No pain.
"I'm coming, Alex."
I slowly drift to consciousness.
A dream. Just a dream.
I move to turn over, and gather my lover into my arms and find that I
can't. My arms are restrained and my wrists hurt like hell.
A hospital. I lived. Dammit.
"Good morning, Mr. Davis." Greets a friendly masculine voice. I open
my eyes to see a doctor smiling at me. "How are we this morning." I close
my eyes again, not wanting to see that smiling face, or any other smiling
"Why?" I rasp weakly. Seconds later a straw is held to my lips.
After taking a small sip I repeat the question louder. "Why?"
"You didn't expect us to let you die, did you?" he asks mildly. Not
pretending to misunderstand.
"Already dead." I reply emotionlessly.
"I can understand the death of your friend being traumatic, but
surely suicide isn't the answer?" he asks sternly, as if to reprimand me
for not getting over it. Bastard.
"More than my friend. My world." I say just before drifting into
unconsciousness, too tired to deal with his bedside psychology.
It's not like he would understand.
Review. Hopefully I'll have another chapter soon.