Alex watched as the blood spiraled down the drain. It did not hurt. Just the opposite, it finally took some of his pain, his anger away.
He has been so pissed off lately; so angry, that it consumed him. He couldn't breathe, he felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He knew it was because of the whole Rebecca thing. He was just so pissed off at the way things had turned out. For just a second he had let his guards down, he let himself fall for her, let himself believe that he too can get his happy ending; that he deserved his happy ending. So he allowed himself to picture his future with her, and their baby, who never really existed. Pictured the white picket fence home with the swing set in the back yard, and the soft sound of his child's laughter. He pictured the kind of dad he would be. How he would never be like his own father. How he would give his child everything. He pictured coming home to her every night and waking up next to her every morning. He pictured himself being happy.
And then it was all gone. In a split of a second. And he had to bathe her and change her and feed her, and tell her that everything is going to be alright, even when he knew it wouldn't. he had to watch as she slowly bled out in the back of his car after she had slashed her wrists and he had to watch as the ambulance took her away to the mental institute and had to listen to her cries as she called out for him, begging him to let her stay, swearing that she will do better. It just made him so mad, the way he had been ripped off of his dreams and desires.
He had tried everything. He knew that Izzie was right, she didn't deserve his crap; he shouldn't be taking this all on her. Wasn't her fault. So he tried different things to deal with his anger. He got drunk at Joe's. And not just the average slightly buzzed drunk, but the whole "can't stand on your own, fall on your ass and black the whole thing out the next day" sort of drunk. But after Joe had expressed his concerns and even threatened to stop serving him, or worse- to call some of his non existent friends, he decided he needs something different, or at least to get drunk someplace where he'll be left all alone.
He tried to run. He ran as fast as he could as far as he could until his body gave out, and he dropped to his knees sweating and panting. He threw up everything he had eaten that day, which wasn't all that much to begin with, until he was only dry heaving. The sweat dripping to his eyes making it hard for him to see. And he still had to go back home, so he just turned around and ran back. He met Meredith and Derek when he got back, just as they were leaving the house on some sort of a night out, judging by what they were wearing. By then he was so tired and dizzy and really nauseous from the effort of running and he was pretty sure that if he so much as opened his mouth he would throw up again, that he simply nodded in their direction. They didn't even seem to notice that anything was wrong.
He tried screaming at the top of his lungs, when nobody was home. But that only left his throat raw and throbbing every time he tried to speak.
He even went to see Rebecca. He had driven for 3 hours and took her outside to sit in the sun for awhile. He sat across from her on a plastic chair and stared at the yellowing grass. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He watched her from the corner of his eyes as she silently sobbed. Wiping the tears with the back of her sleeve every few seconds. He tried to be angry with her- after all she was the reason for all of it. But watching her like that, so lost and hurting- he just couldn't find the strength to be mad at her. It wasn't her fault she got sick. If anything it was his own fault to begin with. He was the one who pulled her out of the freezing water; he was the one, who rebuilt her face; who invented this all new personality for her. For just a split second he regretted ever pulling her out of the water to begin with. But then he remembered her baby; the way it felt to hold that tiny creature, he helped bring into the world, in his arms and he felt guilty for thinking how much better his life could have been, had he not saved her mother.
Alex just continued to sit in silence in front of Rebecca, trying to fight the urge to wipe her tears with his hand, to touch her, realizing that even with all that had happened he still loves her.
After 15 minutes she asked him to leave. As he slowly got up and finally looked her in the eye, she asked him not to come back. Saying something about it being too painful, for the both of them. He wasn't really listening.
And nothing helped. He was still so pissed off, and he still felt like there was this heavy load on his chest cutting all the air, making it hard to breathe.
And then a few days ago he accidently cut his forearm on the edge of a gurney as he rushed to the Pit. The cut wasn't a too deep to require stitches, but it was deep enough to bleed for a few minutes, even after he had applied pressure on the wound. Alex was simply fascinated by it. He felt the pain, but strangely it didn't really hurt. He went into the men's room and washed the wound exposing a tiny straight cut and watched as it bled again and again. It made him feel like coming out of a long sleep. He finally felt something different; he couldn't even define what it was. All he knew was it was something other than anger, something other than his current state of numbness.
And he knew that it had felt so good.
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A/N: What do you think? Should I continue with this story line? How do you recommend I should continue with this (if at all)? Please review this- I need your reviews to go on in this time of a writer's block…