I might soon reduce my posting antics but for now with all I have written up, I figure I'll be... erm, generous?
/-^l^-\ Same Week. Monday /-^l^-\
Alison had hardly any sleep. That was to be expected when you woke up the previous evening with your co-worker and friend in a lonely place over you whilst you slept. The more she replayed it in her head, the worse and worse it sounded.
She still did not care what he had to say. Now that had occurred, she didn't actually feel like she could face him civilly again. But on the other hand it was a very odd and curious experience. She wouldn't let herself down by asking him - she wouldn't even talk to him.
Jonathan suspected she'd keep a fair distance between them awhile. A fair distance had been an understatement. She would not go near him whilst they were doing rounds; would turn and walk the other way when she saw him walking down; and she'd taken to practically sprinting down the stairs when he was on them too. To say the stairs were a risk for her this was pretty impressive.
When a staff meeting was held she went to a seat next to a nurse who had talked to her a few times whereas she'd normally take the seat next to Jonathan which typically remained empty until someone had to sit there by force. Dr. Moore shot Alison an enraged look this week because it was him.
All week, Alison didn't once so much as look in his direction. He felt so void. The many remarks she had made about her being the only person who spoke to him weren't just taunts - they were true. His fractured mind tried to tell him it was her fault but the truth was he'd only forgotten until now. Until he was friendless again.
What on Earth made him want to hurt her in the first place?
/-^l^-\ Weekend. Sunday. /-^l^-\
"You seem a little distracted," commented Bruce. He was used to her asking intriguing questions and making peculiar remarks.
They were walking around a public garden, full of various interesting features and objects and things that she'd typically think about. She was nearly silent.
"I'm just really tired. Not been sleeping well. Wrist is keeping me away," she said, rubbing it. Pack of lies, Alison she thought to herself. The truth was she didn't dare shut her eyes for fear she'd wake up with Jonathan leaning over her.
"Just promise me you're okay," said Bruce, grasping her shoulders. She stood tall, in the hope he'd let go. She didn't want him touching her.
"I can't promise that, because I'm not. But, I can promise that I will be."
"I'm here if you want to talk about it."
"You'd think a psychologist would be able to tell herself not to get burned out, Hm? Or she'd be able to deal with it when talking to her co-workers?" laughed Alison, "I don't want to think about it too much though. I just want to have fun."
"How about a fast ride in an open top car for some cooling air?"
Alison was surprised, but liked the idea.
/-^l^-\ Following Week. Tuesday. /-^l^-\
Jonathan glanced over at Alison during the rounds. She had such dark circles under her eyes, her cheekbones were prominent with lack of nourishment and she was dithering all of the time. She dropped everything.
This resulted in Dr. Mare rolling his eyes with a grunt. Alison reacted very badly to his annoyance.
"Get a life and stop dampening others spirits, you miserable git," she snarled, walking off. Jonathan went to follow. Maybe if he fell to his knees and begged. Anything!
"Not you as well!" cried Dr. Mare, "this does need to be done within the hour!"
"...You're right," said Jonathan. Really, he just knew that he was the last person Alison wanted to talk to.
But Jonathan continued with his night-life. In fact, he pursued it with more anger. Why did she have to be different from every other?He had specific targets who he needed the right dose for. Why Alison had fallen into that, he now didn't know. Surely it wasn't about revenge, because if he really wanted revenge he could have just shunned her. He'd had many chances to do so. Plus, he couldn't stop himself being affectionate in delicate little ways. It should have been a warning.
Jonathan allowed his alter-ego to manifest into an angered, bitter man, sending his obsessive, knowledge-needy side into a frantic mania which only made everything worse. Sometimes he'd be mad at Alison - after all she had him on his knees, he was prepared to stand down to her like that. But other times, he just wished he could go to Alison, receive some slander for a while and still appreciate it all.
One mind told him to tear her down properly, but the side which was homing his rationality told him to re-build her and just help her through her devastation. That devastation he had some responsibility for.
/-^l^-\ Same week. Wednesday. /-^l^-\
Alison screamed in rage and flung the envelopes everywhere around the kitchen and sat down in the centre of them, glancing at them all. 99 letters. Her mother had sent her 99 letters. She never, ever wanted to receive 100. But she had an odd feeling that she would.
Her mother was another aspect who was ruining her life. Her mother who had made her angry towards so many things; like being touched. Just in case it was followed with a hit. Sometimes she could manage, but as Bruce had clutched her shoulders the other day, as she had... she let out a cry of despair and laid down on the ground, crying. She refused to think about it until forced.
She cried herself to sleep there and then on her cold kitchen floor, leaving herself exposed to all sorts of bugs and germs. And in the morning, she went overboard to try and solve the problem, pouring bleach into her bathroom sink and diluting it with water a little and washing her hands and lower arms.
She didn't take her nightgown off as she laid in the bath for an hour. Even she didn't know that she could take things that far, but now she had. She was tormented, still, by everything. Everything she was supposed to be able to put over her head.
/-^l^-\ Same Week. Thursday evening./-^l^-\
Jonathan jumped as he heard a thud. He frowned and turned behind him. It was late at night. There weren't many people around. Then a sickening thought reached him.
He ran to the stairs to see Alison sprawled out at the bottom of the staircase, but she wasn't moving. He staggered down, nearly falling himself and turning her over. He swept two fingers over her cheek gently and he checked her a pulse.
He knew she'd be mad but he couldn't gaze at her as she laid helpless. He pulled her into his lap and cradled her.
She looked more ill than ever. She obviously wasn't eating, or if she was it wasn't substantial. She was so deprived of sleep that it was catching up to her in horrible ways. Her skin, which was already very fair, now looked pasty and unhealthy.
He knew she was either sleeping or had fainted. He wasn't sure which but she was breathing, she hadn't keeled over and died from hopelessness. He didn't want to think she would, and wouldn't let her either.
"Alison," he whispered softly, tapping her cheek lightly. "Alison."
He sat her up and she suddenly opened her eyes. He slowly laid her back. She blinked a few times and then glanced to the side, aware of something in her peripheral vision. Oh... Jonathan... she said in her head. Then she panicked. She was waking up below him again!
"No!" she cried, struggling. She was way too weak to fight him now. She was completely drained.
Jonathan pressed a finger to her lips and proceeded to softly stroke her cheek. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, nor why he couldn't have just resisted the urge to do that. It looked like it terrified her. Or did it surprise her?
"Alison, I know you hate me. But I'm sorry," he whispered. He genuinely meant it. No other person on this Earth had deserved to hear those words from him more than she did. He just didn't know why. Though he suspected he felt a connection - something that he understood.
He placed her bag with her and slipped his arm under her leg, and his other arm under her shoulders and lifted her up in his arms. Alison was surprised. She'd always taken him for a bit of a weakling.
She gasped for no reason. There was a loud bleeping sound. Alison blinked in a dazed blur. For heaven's sake... she sighed and sat up in bed. She'd been dreaming. It was just Friday morning.
She screamed and flung her cushion aside with sheer anger. Why of all people did she have to dream about him? Especially him showing concern. It wasn't going to happen any time soon, was it now? Worst of all, there were many accuracies in the dream. One she didn't want to think about.
She strode into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. She looked so ill. At least that part of her stupid dream was accurate.