Disclaimer Original idea belongs to Anthony Horowitz and all the character belong to him, I own nothing. Alex rider as a spy belongs to him I just played on the idea and made a short story.
WARNING: This story contains self injury (Also known as cutting) and may also contain Yassen/Alex, Man/man slash.
Author Note: Okay, before you say that I know nothing about the topic of self injury, I think you should know that I do indeed know what I'm talking about. I have suffered from self injury for 9 years. I am currently a recovering self injurer so yes I know what I'm talking about! I don't recommend self injury to anyone; it's not something I want anyone to ever try. It sucks! I will not be held responsible for anyone who decides to ignore my warning and tries it. I wrote this story because it was an idea that popped into my head! Please don't try to cut yourself because of this!!!! Well, enjoy the story.
R & R
I would also like to thank my beta reader nuclearXsquid for editing this chapter!!!
Chapter 1 - The call
Alex was sitting on the couch watching TV with Jack when the phone rang. "I'll get it," Alex said, standing up.
"Hello?"
"Alex, we're sending a car for you tomorrow morning at nine o'clock." He knew exactly who was calling without an introduction.
"I have school tomorrow, Mrs. Jones. I'm afraid I can't come," Alex said.
"We're sending a car for you tomorrow around nine o'clock, Alex," She repeated. "You can come willingly or by force. Either way you will be at the bank tomorrow," She said firmly. The line went dead.
Alex sighed and hung up the phone. Jack was looking at him. "I have to go to MI6 in the morning which means I will miss more school," he told Jack. "I'm going up to my room. I suddenly don't feel like watching TV." Jack nodded and he headed for the stairs, climbing them two at a time.
He got to his room and took out his knife and a First Aid kit. Alex went into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bathtub, knife in hand contemplating his next action. "I shouldn't be doing this. Self injury is such a bad thing but I can't help it. I need this; it's the only thing I can control," He said to himself, torn between what he felt he needed and what he knew was right. He stared at the knife, watching the light bulb's reflection in the silver metal. He glanced at his wrist, already ugly and scarred. The scars would always be a reminder of what he had been forced to live through. The memories of MI6's inhumanity might fade, but the scars will always be there to remind him of the consequences of dealing with MI6.
"I'm so stupid. I'm such a wimp," he tells himself bitterly, but it doesn't stop him from pushing the blade into his skin. 'Why can't they just leave me alone? I hate working for them. This is all their fault, I only started this after I began working for them,' he thought angrily as he pressed the blade to his wrist and pulled, leaving a bleeding red line behind. He repeated this action over and over again until his wrist unrecognizable beneath the blood. The cuts varied in deepness and length.
He pauses and allows the cuts to bleed freely, watching the crimson drip into the tub and run down the drain. The feeling of release floods through him, washing away all the negative feelings. "Yes. This is why I do this, for this feeling. It makes everything seem alright," he thought, content.
His logic slowly seeped back into his mind. 'I hate doing this to my self, but it's the only thing that seems to help.' He held a paper towel to his bleeding wrist. Once the bleeding slowed, he cleaned his wrist with peroxide before wrapping it with gauze. Then, he proceeded to clean up his mess, rinsing the blood down the drain and disposing the bloody paper towels.
Once everything was clean, he moved back into his bedroom and laid down in his bed, completely exhausted from the stress of his day. He drifted to sleep in no time.
Alex's POV
I woke up the next morning to my wrist stinging as a reminder of what I did the night before. I got up out of bed and headed to my closet to get dressed. Once I was dressed, I pulled out my first aid kit and cleaned my wrist again.
That's when I noticed my alarm clock.
I couldn't believe it. I had exactly thirty minutes before the car would be here to pick me up. With that thought in mind, I went down stairs to eat breakfast.
I walked in to the kitchen to find Jack preparing scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast. "Mmmmm …That smells wonderful, Jack," I said.
"Thanks. I figure since I probably won't see you for a couple weeks that I would make you a nice breakfast." She said. I knew that was Jacks way of saying 'Goodbye, I'll miss you,' so I said, "I'll miss you too, Jack." She smiled sadly at me as I took a seat at the table.
I finished eating and watched TV for the remaining ten minutes until the car was due to arrive. As always, they were right on time, ringing the door bell at exactly nine o'clock. I got up and answered the door. Mr. Crawley and some other guy I didn't know stood there, looking perfectly willing and ready to take me by force.
I stood there staring at them for a moment before sighing. "I'll come willingly," I said. They both visibly relaxed but didn't move aside. "Bye, Jack," I called over my shoulder before stepping out the door. Mr. Crawley's grip on my arm escorted me into the car.
They both got into the front seat. Mr. Crawley started the car, and we headed for the bank. And quite possibly my worst nightmare.
Authors notes: So there's chapter one…. Tell me what you think: Bad, Terrible, okay, good, great? Please tell me! Review Review Review!!