So this is basically something random that I started writing... mainly because I felt I needed to. I don't quite know why. But now I'm not sure if I should continue or not but - here it is for you guys to read anyway. You can let me know what you think and all that. I'd appreciate it.. ;)
It was with a sudden jolt that the previously sleeping boy awoke and found himself trapped. Something was covering his face. He couldn't breathe. He kicked and started thrashing, panicking, until he realised that he was still half asleep and it was only his duvet. With a heavy sigh he turned to look at the clock beside his bed as he waited for himself to calm down. It was only six in the morning. He had had a nightmare. Another one. Great.
Wearily, he threw the covers away and made his way to the bathroom trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn't want to wake everybody else in the house up. In the bathroom he set about washing himself. There was no way he would sleep again now. It was only when he was brushing his teeth, after showering, that he found his eyes travelling towards the mirror.
He had changed a lot in two years. There didn't seem to even be a hint of the boy he had once been. His fair hair was shorter now, his features completely defined… he looked normal. It was his eyes that gave it all away. There was knowledge, pain, anger and sadness in those eyes, but that wasn't all. Sometimes he worried that if somebody looked into his eyes for too long they would see everyone he had lost and everything he had done. They would see how he had lost the last precious year of his childhood and been cruelly thrown into an adult world of death and destruction. He looked away. Even he couldn't stand to look into his own eyes. How pathetic.
This is what he had become. This is what MI6 had done to Alex Rider.
His world had once had colour. During his final mission, when Jack had died, the little colour that was left had vanished. He had seen red at first but then, when his mission had ended, everything faded into black and white. There was no joy. There was just nothing. That year of his life he had lost more than he ever thought possible. The last loss had been the worst of all. Jack. Even now it was still painful to think about. Julius Grief pushing the button. Watching the car explode. Jack. Dead. Pain.
Alex shook his head and padded into the kitchen, where he realised he wasn't even hungry. Two years and he still didn't know what to do with himself. He wandered back into the living room and flopped down on the sofa, looking around. Living in America hadn't been so bad. He hadn't really brought anything with him when he came from England, preferring to leave his entire life behind him, so Sabina's mother had taken him shopping. He had felt awkward at first but then he realised he was going to have to get used to it.
His first few months here had been strange. He had walked around like a zombie, barely eating or speaking. He remembered Sabina trying to cheer him up but not really knowing what to do. After a while she had stopped trying so hard, probably hoping he would come out of it by himself. He wondered if maybe everybody resented him being here because he knew he was a handful, but he couldn't help it. Something inside him just broke.
After a while he had settled into the Pleasure's routine and also started to settle internally. A year later and he was 'back to normal'. That's what everybody thought. He was still having nightmares almost every night, he still felt as though he had a hole inside of him, he still wanted to cry and scream… and at the same time he still felt nothing at all.
Alex passed through each day as quietly and quickly as possible. That was how he wanted it to be until the day he died. Maybe that day will come soon, he thought to himself.
The other week Edward Pleasure had wondered aloud whether Alex needed to go and see a doctor. "Maybe you have depression." He had stated bluntly. "It wouldn't be surprising. After everything you've been though… being so young…"
Alex had simply shook his head and pasted on a smile. "No. I'm fine, but thank you." Then he had walked out into the garden to join Sabina in the sun and he had smiled for the rest of the day.
Visiting the doctor hadn't been mentioned again.
It wasn't that Alex didn't try to snap out of it. He really did do everything he could. Sometimes he felt like he'd finally done it and he was back to his old self again. Then something would remind him of the past. He'd see one of the photos of Jack in his room or he'd see a soldier on the TV and everything would come rushing back to him. Every moment from that knock on the door announcing Ian Rider's death to the final second when he had knelt beside the burned out car in the middle of the desert.
He would never get over that year would he? He would never forget any of it. Most of all he would never forgive MI6. If they had never blackmailed him in the first place or even if they had left him alone after that first mission in Cornwall… everything would be different. Everything would be okay and he would have been able to enjoy the rest of his childhood in peace. He would have grown up with Jack, maybe they would have moved to America in the end anyway. Maybe that was why he felt wrong. If he was going to live here at all it should have been with her.
Sitting dwelling on the past was going to get him nowhere. It only made things worse, and yet he couldn't really help it. It's true what they say. You can never escape your past.