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 freezing.

"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. Never again.

"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 Alex.

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 face.

"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.

-- A.H.