Chapter 2: Part 4: Replacing The Photographs In Their Frames

He was gone, and for the first time in a long time, Marissa smiled. A genuine smile, her expression filled with a new hope. This was her chance for a new start; she wasn't going to screw it up this time. Now way. This was it, and it would be the end. Their happy ending. Without that ending, she'd have nothing. She had to make it work. There was nothing in her way now.
All she had to do now was to convince Alex that they could get back what they used to have. No, that's not what she wanted. She wanted them to be even better than that, and she knew that they could be. She was aware that nothing could be perfect, but she was certain that they could be almost perfect, and that was good enough for her. She just hoped that it was good enough for Alex. It had to be, because there was no way she was giving up on this before she'd even started to make everything better.
It was going to be hard; she realised that. But it was worth it. Alex was worth it, and she always would be. Marissa wished that she could have seen it before, and she wouldn't have been in this position now. Now was not the time for what ifs, however. It was time to sort her life out.
The first thing that would have to go, well aside from him, that is, was the alcohol hidden in her drawer. She moved over to the chest of drawers now, opening the bottom drawer, and taking out the almost empty bottle, as well as an unopened one. She took them into the bathroom, resisting, with difficulty, taking a long drink from the bottle. She poured the contents into the sink, watching the liquid swirl around the plughole, finally feeling free. Although it had been her comfort for a long time, it had trapped her at the same time. She was unbelievably glad to finally be free of it, but she knew that just because she had managed to pour the contents of those bottles away, it didn't mean she'd always be able to do it. This wasn't the end of her problems, but she knew that once she had Alex to help her, everything would seem so much easier. It didn't matter how long it took. She rethought that. It did. She wanted everything to be going her way right now, but she knew that was impossible. She had to think about Alex too, and Alex had wanted to take things slowly.
She didn't know what she was going to say to Alex, how to explain that she'd been freaking out ever since that night they talked, and that she had wanted to speak to her, but she just couldn't. She'd think about that when the time came, it was no use worrying about it now. Besides, last time she had freaked out over her relationship with Alex, Alex had known. Maybe she would realise this time too.
As Marissa walked back through the doorway separating her bedroom and the bathroom, she noticed that she had left the bottom drawer open. She crouched down to shut it, but as she did, she noticed the white corner of a photograph, upside down, sticking out. She turned it over, picking it up. It was her favourite picture of her and Alex. Staring at it for a while, a contemplative expression on her face, she moved to put it back into the drawer, but changed her mind, picking up one of the empty frames on her bedside table.
It was time that she put the photographs back into the frame, and stopped pretending to herself that they didn't mean anything to her. She touched Alex's face lightly, her finger leaving a slight mark on the photograph. She placed the photograph back in its frame, hoping that soon Alex would also be back in her rightful place.
She wanted to call her right now, maybe beg her for forgiveness. Outside it was dark, and it was too late for disturbing Alex. Besides that, she really didn't know what to say. She switched the light on, determined not to hide away in the dark anymore. She wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, she realised. She had too much to think about.

Alex was sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks, the images in her dreams finally turning from those she classed as nightmares to something close to happiness. She had made her decision now, and she wasn't going to change her mind. No more staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. No, in the morning, she would pick it up herself. If nothing came of it, at least she would know that she tried.
So she had gone to bed, thinking about making things right, she had been so tired of thinking about all the bad things, and all the good things she could have remembered seemed to have been lost somewhere. In the morning, no matter what she was feeling, she was dialling that number, and she was not going to put that phone down before it had a chance to ring. Not this time.
She woke a few hours later, the only light in the room coming from a crack in the curtains, her eyes adjusting slowly to the grey colour they were met by. She rolled over, looking at her clock. 4AM. It was too early to make that phone call. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes; there was no point in trying to sleep again. She moved to the edge of the bed, somehow tangling herself in the sheets in the process, so that she fell to the floor with a thud. She grimaced, rubbing her head where she had hit it on the side of the bed, before laughing lightly at her clumsiness. She felt so much lighter than she had a few days ago. It was amazing how a change in her thought process had made her feel so much better. She was thinking more positively now.
Maybe a phone call wasn't enough. Maybe another visit to Newport would be better. If she left now, she could get there fairly quickly. There wouldn't be a lot of traffic on the roads at this time of night. Yeah, face-to-face would be so much better than having this conversation over the phone, thought Alex, grabbing her clothes quickly and heading to the bathroom.

In Newport, Marissa woke in the dark, surprised that she had fallen asleep. She stretched out her arms from their awkward position, noticing that one of her photos was still clutched in her left hand. She must have fallen asleep while looking at it. It was the last one she had that had been removed from its frame, and she stood up stiffly from where she had been resting against her drawers, finally replacing it in its frame.
She lay back against her pillows, looking at the clock as she did so. 4.02 AM. Still too early to call Alex. She slowly returned to sleeping, a sheet of blue paper filled with Alex's handwriting underneath her pillow.