After two days of non-stop driving, Alex's team's bus had finally come to a stop. Alex peered out the window and sighed to himself, brushing his shaggy, black hair out of his face, 'Rain again?' he thought to himself before standing up, watching all his teammates get off the bus frantically. The weather had been nothing short of miserable since the baseball team started their tour, getting somewhat harder as the bus entered West Virginia.
The muggy feeling in the air Alex thought was impossible to escape from as he snatched his bag from the seat next to him and proceeded to leave the bus just a moment after everyone else. Alex smirked and trudged slowly through the mud on his way to the diner in front of him where everyone else was already inside, except for the team captain who was ready to yell for Alex to hurry up—
"Jesus Christ, Sovereign, if you were going this fast during the last game, maybe we would have taken it home!" The team's captain said sarcastically, holding the door open for Alex as he ran inside. It was best not to say anything—saying the wrong thing could provoke the testosterone loaded sports stars to spring into action…resulting in a quick, but harsh beating.
"Where's the bathroom?" Alex asked the waitress standing in front of him, watching him walk in, mud still on his shoes.
"Sssin th' back." She replied curtly before turning away from him and seating the rest of his high school baseball team.
Alex stood taller for just a moment, peering past all the worn, poorly upholstered cushioned seats, the majority of which were a dark red and others ranging from a faded blue to a sickly-vomit green. His eyebrow twitched before he started his walk down to the back of the diner, glancing at someone he knew only for a moment before walking into the bathroom and locking the door.
The bathroom, was nothing short of disturbing, toilet paper strew across the wood paneled floor, appearing somewhat…damp in some places. Alex cringed for a moment before setting his bag down on the floor, opening it and pulling out a small box, setting it on the sink in front of him. He looked into the mirror, his pale skin giving an eerie reflection from the barely working halogen bulb above him, which made every single imperfection in his skin clear as day. His black hair was as unkempt and messy as usual, strewn every which way—and somehow, still managed to look fashionable. Dark, sunken in eyes flashed downwards towards the box and he found a small blade, buried within the contents.
"Alarming, isn't it." He said to himself, speaking his own narrative as he drew the box-cutter along his left forearm in an effort to shut himself down. Alex paused and looked down at his arm, not recognizing the feeling—or perhaps it was lack of feeling he was experiencing. His arm was now throbbing in a sickly way, his vein visibly pulsating and pushing a dark brown liquid out of the deep injury in his arm. "That…is new." He said, suddenly noticing the faint smell of mold coming from under the door. Suddenly, there was a low organ monotonous sound that filled the entire diner, straight into the bathroom as well. Alex quickly pulled down the sleeve, not bothering to wipe off any of the grease—or that's what it seemed to be and spun around, trying to open the door—but it wouldn't unlock. "What the…" He said, growing more worried as he unlocked the door and tried again and again, until the lights went out.
There was a slight creaking nose coming closer and closer to Alex as he stood there in the darkness, wishing he had still had his box-cutter. The mold smell got stronger and stronger, making its way into Alex's lungs and giving him the urge to vomit—and coupled with the pain from his arm, it wasn't going to be very long until he did.