Chapter 3: A Night Alone.
Alex sank down deeper into the musty lime green couch cushions as she watched the clock slowly tick on past 3 AM. Piper had gone to bed and reached sleep hours ago while she was nowhere near any such thing.
How could she sleep? She wasn't only an emotional train wreck, but also had to sleep on a couch that was too short causing her long legs to hang over the edge, and it smelled like vomit and cat pee. They hadn't been too careful in choosing out free furniture, so this is what they had. At least it was warm by the fire.
Alex rolled over and stared on into the dancing coals from what was the fire. There was no doubt about it, she was miserable, too miserable even to take her own life. The idea of death was sound, but something was still gnawing at her. She still felt there was something she needed to figure out before death, something she had to know. All night it hadn't come to her and the ideas still eluded her mind's grasp.
Alex rolled back over and looked at the blade once more in the palm of her hand. The cold steel glinted in the low moonlight, sending sparks through her mind.
Just do it, just do it for Piper.
But she'd lost her iron will and could no longer bring the blade to her throat. She couldn't do it, especially not this late.
Alex sighed in defeat.
They had nothing, they still had nothing. Back when she'd run heroin into the country they'd had everything. Her apartment had been huge, it had a soft bed, and a shower fit for a king. Now all they had was a rickety old house with tiny bed only fit comfortably for one and a shower only fit for the king of all molds that grew on its walls. It was miserable, it was more miserable than prison. In prison at least there had been the thought, the lingering hope and taste of freedom that lay beyond the barb wire and bars. But freedom no longer tasted sweet, it had gone sour with the growing mold of reality sneaking in.
After prison they weren't getting anywhere. Alex had no life skills besides drug trafficking, she had no real passions, she had nothing, nothing besides Piper.
Alex sat up on the couch and looked into the fire, turning the blade over and over in her hands. Piper deserved better, she deserved the life of a queen, not what Alex had condemned her too. It was all her fault and there was nothing she could do to help Piper besides ending it all. Her life insurance might cover something, that was one of the few things they had left and Piper would need the money to start over without her. She needed Alex to be gone, yet Alex didn't have the strength to do what was necessary. She was weak...
In rage Alex lashed out and stabbed into her leg with the cold blade. Blood spit forth and tears shot from her eyes with the pain. She gasped and desperately tore the blade free from her leg and watched at blood boiled and barraged forth from her thigh.
It wasn't a serious cut, if it was at least she'd be dead after all, but in a painfully slow way; it could be worse. Alex laid back before the fire and stared into the coals. She folded the crumpled note she had prepared for Piper in her hands in case she never woke up and clutched it tightly in the folds of her hands.
The clock kept ticking, the only sound besides the wind in the night.
Tears, tears and shaking sobs burst from her closed eyes. Trails of tears flowed like a waterfall from her eyes as even the red coals surcame to the darkness of the night.
Weak, she was weak…