It was a normal day for Alex, the boy whose life was anything but normal. The alarm clock rang with a shrill screech but even with this the resident of this rather large house in Chelsea did not stir. He was gripped in the throes of yet another terrifying nightmare.

"The woman had her back to Alex but every step Alec took towards her, she seemed to move forward. She was like a rainbow, there but unreachable. Her flowing red hair resembled something that Alex had seen before. '...' the figure whispered something that Alex could not make out. '...' it repeated, much to Alex's frustration.

'What do you want?' he asked. But no sooner had the words left his lips than the woman turned around with an unearthly wail and turned to face him.

Her face was contorted with rage and disgust. Her lips upturned in a cruel sneer and her eyes wide and bulging. Had she not been so angry she would have been beautiful with her luscious long red hair and her athletic build but as of now she only looked one way.

Horrifying.

Alex continued to stare into her face as the woman stepped towards him. He tried to move away from the furious woman but he was rooted to the spot, mesmerised by her presence.

'It was your fault that I died, all your fault' she stated with a sneer of hatred.

'No, I'm sorry' Alex pleaded. He did not often show emotion or ever break down but whenever feeling about this woman resurfaced he couldn't help himself.

The woman chanted, 'your fault, your fault' like a deadly tribal chant as she closed down on him. Her eyes burned brighter than ever and her voice grew louder and the words came faster and faster until all of Alex's senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the words. She pulled back her arm as if to hit Alex and he finally whispered, 'I'm sorry... Jack'

Suddenly Alex awoke to his own screaming with a glistening sheen of sweat covering his face. He lived by himself after Jack's 'passing' and he has refused the help of MI6, instead preferring to cope by himself as he had learned to do. All he needed was financial aid and a house which were provided for him, but the real costs of his job were the mental and psychological effects. The mental scarring that he had from his missions led to more nightmares and flashbacks than Alex could ever need.

Slowly he eased his body out of bed, neatly making the bed and flattening the sheets and he walked over to the bathroom and took a long shower to ease his pain over his still very poignant nightmare. He let the soothing water take away his ailments and then slowly began to dress in his school uniform.

He did not have to attend school but Alex found that if he did not have a distraction like the one school provided him, he often slipped into flashbacks of his past and he was haunted by memories. Going to school was Alex's way of letting himself heal over time. He was well aware that most teenager resented school and would try anything to get out it, but he had learned to value it and frankly, he had been in the mercy of much much more sadistic and maniacal people than the 'dreaded teacher'.

Plus, he had Tom. Tom was the only other student in the school that knew the truth about Alex and he one of Alex's closest and oldest friends. Simply being with him also had a healing effect on Alex and he needed the normalcy that this simple friendship provided. It made the broken boy feel human again.

He quickly ate breakfast after glancing at the clock and seeing how alarmingly late he was and he ran to his bike and pedalled furiously towards Brooklands.

At the rapid pace he had set himself, and the surplus of muscle that SAS and MI6 training had provided he made it to school with time to spare and he set about finding Tom only to be greeted by a large, troll like human shouting 'Oi, look druggie's here'

Alex sighed and stepped through the gates. 'Wonderful' he thought to himself sarcastically

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