Drabble 9

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER

Request: Demons


She never associated much with the lower class—the plebeians—of society at Brookland Comprehensive. It wasn't like she was against being friends with them or anything, but she never had the chance or the motivation to talk to any of them. After all, Olivia Faust had better things to do than to lower her thoughts to a simpleton's ideas.

Olivia didn't have many friends. It wasn't hard to see why, nor did she let it deter her from her end goal: winning. Perhaps it was foolish to think that life was a race—a race for success and knowledge. She didn't care if it was silly to her other classmates.

Plodding forward with slow, silent steps, Olivia settled in a corner of the library. It was her favorite spot. She preferred the quiet and solitude as opposed to the harsh, rambunctious celebration in the cafeteria.

There was something that thrilled Olivia, right to the core, when she would eat her lunch in the placid library. It was forbidden to take food in fear that the school's precious books would be ruined, but Olivia was always careful. It was in her nature to be meticulous. There were no crumbs left on the table when she left. There was no sign, no indication, that she had ever been there.

Olivia withdrew the first book from her backpack. It was a classic novel that she was currently reading and writing an analytical essay on. It didn't make her the happiest of people—she often got tired of the droning words and the monotonous tone—but she kept going because that's what her English teacher expected of her. It was the same with the extra work that the rest of her teachers put on her, sensing the zealous affinity she had for learning. As Olivia flipped a page of the book, she bit her lip, her thoughts leaving the finely printed words on the page. This wasn't learning. It was just extra work to keep her busy.

And God, it was making her so, so tired.

Not in the physical sense when she didn't get enough sleep the previous night. No. This was something that originated from her very essence, spreading from the very marrow of her bone, outwards. It coursed through her veins, infecting her slowly, turning her hard and sad.

Didn't anyone understand how hard it was to keep up her reputation? She had to stay ranked at number one or else she wouldn't win. It wouldn't be acceptable.

She was slowly succumbing to the pressure that she had inadvertently pushed onto herself, and she wasn't sure she could survive it.

"Hello, may I sit here?"

Olivia had been so enraptured in her thoughts that she didn't see the six foot, blonde-haired boy stride over, a hand on the chair across from her. She knew this boy. Hell, who didn't? It was Alex Rider.

The two used to be mild acquaintances, friends even, but they had grown apart when Alex began disappearing and when Olivia heard about the drugs and the gangs.

"Sure," Olivia replied, moving a stray sheet of paper out of his way, "Go ahead."

She didn't look at Alex again for a long while, her mind slipping from his intimidating presence and back onto the book, which she couldn't understand. She took little bites of her peanut butter jelly sandwich, chewing mournfully.

Her inattention didn't go unnoticed by Alex, who merely sighed slowly, lifting his head. Olivia watched from the corner of her eye, fascinated by the elegance and the grace in which he moved.

"You can ask, you know," Alex sounded defeated as he closed up whatever textbook he had in front of him.

Olivia looked up, examining the boy's face. It was a lot darker than she'd remembered it. Darker in color, in expression, in everything. He had faint scars across his face. The most terrifying feature, however, was his eyes. Dark, dark brown with hints of exhaustion. She could see conflicting emotions writhe about in his irises, hate and coldness and more that Olivia couldn't identify. What was that emotion swirling in his eyes? It was something familiar—something she saw daily in someone else's eyes.

Death.

Alex Rider was dead on the inside, and Olivia saw it in herself every day. Of course, not to a large scale like Alex's, but when she looked in the mirror every day, she saw her soul, rotting away with no true purpose in life.

Olivia shook her head slowly, eyes sinking back to her book, "I have nothing to say to you."

Her words were cold and sharp, and to anyone else, they sounded biting. Before her, Alex deflated with something akin to relief. She was glad that her true meaning, that she would leave him alone, was conveyed properly.

There were some serious demons in his eyes, Olivia thought to herself as she packed up her books and prepared to leave for her next class. Her's was nothing compared to his. But, she supposed that if Alex Rider could handle his own demons, she could manage her own. After all, wasn't she far above the common pedestrian?


A/N: Thanks for the reviews and feedback! I think you know the drill, so I won't repeat.

This was a bit dark, wasn't it? Idk if I like it, but it's something that I needed to get out of my system. To be honest, I feel really tired, and not the kind where you can go to sleep and everything is better, you know? I'm just really tired of always fighting to be exceptional, and no one listening when I try to tell them how I really feel. I guess it's like I bottled up all these dark emotions (apparently friends and parents don't want to see anything less than your happy self), and I needed an outlet...which it writing, by the way. So I hope this wasn't too bad! I guess I just wanted to tell you inadvertently that I'm fighting my own demons right now too. It's not just Olivia and Alex.

-Alice