I don't own Misfits or Simon, just enjoying my time in the Unit w/ him :)
Thanks for continuing to read and stick out this major angst-fest
...
Simon hates conflict. It makes his skin prickle and his stomach clench. Confrontation with Lucy is, of course, worse. He thinks about the last time they got into a fight, how she'd taken a blade to her wrist the next day. The last thing he wants is another repeat of that. Still, her interactions with Emma have become more frequent recently, Emma even choosing to leave him to go off with Lucy, and that makes him nervous. It makes him scared. He knows he has to put a stop to it. This leads him to cornering Lucy one day when Emma's in counseling.
His legs feel like lead, and his heart feels like it's hammering away at the back of his throat, but he manages to catch her in the rec room and back her into one of the book shelves.
"Simon?" she asks, looking up at him with those wide, hauntingly black eyes.
He tries his best to give her the most menacing glare he can muster. "Stay away from Emma."
Lucy stares up at him for a long time and before smiling slowly. "Or what?"
"Just leave her alone."
She practically cackles. "What are you going to do, Simon?" She rolls her eyes. "As if the answer isn't obvious. You'll do nothing. Because you're a coward. A scared little boy."
"I won't tell you again." His voice cracks and he mentally kicks himself.
"Oh, that's priceless." She snorts. "Adorable, really. You trying to defend your little girlfriend. Here's an idea, maybe tell your drama whore to stay away from me. I don't seek her out."
He tightens his jaw, resisting the urge to yell. "Don't call her that!. She... she thinks you like her. You- you're the one who told her we could all be friends."
"Well, it's not my fault she's gullible."
"Stop calling her names. It's not fair, what you're doing. You say stuff like this to me, but... but you're nice to her."
Lucy leans close. "You think about being nice? I tolerate her at best."
"Why are you being like this?" It's not a question he's been able to answer. He knows how Lucy can be, he's seen enough of it with the way she treats others, but he never expected her to be like this to him. He's been good to her.
When she brings her lips to his ear, he shivers and curls inward on himself, but Lucy remains close. Close enough to whisper, "You want my story?" Her breath is warm and he can smell the pizza she had for lunch. He hates her for this, too. "I tried to kill a girl. Filthy slut kept trying to get with my boyfriend. I almost did her head in with a brick."
Simon jerks back and frowns. "That's not true."
She raises a brow. "Are you sure? How sure are you? You don't know how I ended up here. I could do it again, you know. Make Emma's brains come right out her ears. Maybe she'd even say your name, beg you to come save her."
"Stop," he grits out between his teeth as images of what Lucy's just described come to mind. He pictures Emma like this and his stomach twists at the thought.
Lucy wastes no time, grabbing both sides of his face and stepping flush against him. She presses her lips to his, her limbs quickly wrapping around him like a snake, tightening as she yanks him back into the bookshelf. He struggles, tries to pull away, amazed at her strength all the same. He doesn't want this, knows he doesn't want this.
"Hey, guys, what's-"
Lucy quickly pulls back, giving Simon enough space to turn around and find Emma standing in the doorway of the rec room.
She immediately raises a brow. "Oh. Well, I can come back later or..."
"No," Simon protests. "Lucy was just leaving."
"Uh, no. No I wasn't. In fact, now that you're here, Emma, maybe we could all-"
"Stop," Simon grits out between clenched teeth, taking a step closer to her so his chest knocks into hers.
"Whoa," Emma jumps in, and he can hear her coming closer. "Um, I don't know what exactly I walked in on but there's hardly any need for that sort of reaction."
"Yeah, Simon." Lucy draws his name out with a smirk.
Simon's never been a violent person. He can be angry, he knows that, but he hardly ever has hurtful thoughts. So when the urge to reach out and strike Lucy settles over him, he gets confused and steps back. She's gotten him too worked up, he's allowed himself to let her do this to him. And that's what she wants, he thinks. She wants to push him until he snaps so she can tell Emma just how much of a monster he really is.
"I don't want to hang out with you," he tells her. "Not right now."
Emma comes up beside them and gives Simon a strange look, almost... accusitory. "Simon, why are you being like this?"
He nearly blanches. "M- me? She just... she just assaulted me and I'm the one doing something wrong?"
Lucy scoffs. "He kissed me," she says, looking at Emma. "I don't know what's going on in his head today. He's acting like a mental. Came in here yelling at me and then just went at my face."
"Shut up!" Simon bites out, gnashing his teeth together. "Just stop!"
"Stop what?" Emma asks, looking between the both of them.
He points at Lucy. "She's lying. That's what she does, she lies. She makes things up that aren't true, like she's doing now!"
"I told you!" Lucy retorts, stepping around him. "I told you he always tries to make me the bad one. Didn't I say that?"
Simon looks at Lucy and then back at Emma, a stab of betrayal rippling through his gut and chest. "She talks to you about me?"
Emma gives Lucy a pointed look and clicks her tongue. "Maybe," she says slowly, looking back at him.
"We talk about you all the time," Lucy tells him. "She told me you don't trust me. As if I'm the one she'd have to worry about not trusting. You're the one who tries to keep secrets from everyone, Mister 'oh so quiet.'
"Okay, why don't we all just calm down. Take a deep breath, and-"
"Oh, why don't you just fuck off, Emma."
Almost simultaneously he and Emma turn to look at Lucy, who's eyes have lowered into that snake- like gaze of hers she gets when she's angry, and Simon realizes, this is the first time Emma's heard her speak like this. Of course Emma has a shocked reaction.
"What did you say?"
Lucy's lip curls up in clear disdain. "You heard me. Shut up. If I have to hear your fake concerned, annoying voice one more time I think I might just actually kill myself. You have no IDEA how much I hate hearing you prattle on."
Emma raises her hands up in front of her. "Whoa, okay. Don't know where the fuck that came from but-"
"Don't know where it came from?" Lucy cuts in, raising her voice. "I can't have a single solitary moment alone with Simon anymore without you crawling up our asses, you needy bitch."
Simon can see it, watches the anger take over on Emma's face. Her eyebrows lower and her nose crinkles. She crosses her arms and takes a step towards Lucy. "You should really watch your tone."
"Yeah?" Lucy asks, stepping so close to Emma their bodies are nearly touching. "What are you going to do, huh? Help me figure out how to slit my wrists just right? Something you clearly lack the ability to do."
"What is your fucking issue?" Emma cries. "Where the fuck is this coming from? We're supposed to be friends, why are you acting like this?"
"I'm not your fucking friend!" Lucy yells. "And I'm tired of sharing with a whore. What happens between Simon and I is none of your business so you're welcome to just GO!"
Emma's eyebrows raise and Simon watches her fists flench. "You did not just call me a whore. Swear to god I'm gonna rip your fucking-"
"Emma," Simon jumps in, working on stepping between the two of them. "Emma, don't. It's not worth it. They're gonna hear you and come and you'll get in trouble."
She turns to him, the anger still swimming in her eyes. "I can't believe you. She says this shit to me and you expect me not to fight back?"
"I don't want you to get in trouble," he answers quietly.
She shakes her head and takes a step back. "You know what, you're right, it's not worth it. Neither of you are worth this shit."
"What?" The words rush out of him as hers are just sinking in. "Emma."
She throws her hands up. "Sort your shit out, Simon. Get back to me when you're done being friends with a fucking mental." She turns around and walks away, leaving him standing there stunned, like someone's just kicked him in the chest.
"I'll be here if you want to talk," Lucy calls after her. And only then does everything catch up to him and he turns to look at her. Her gaze has locked on his own, and she smiles- a smile darker than any one he's ever seen her give before. It causes a chill to run up his spine. "Well," she breathes out a moment later, "that was interesting."
"Are you happy now?" he asks, his voice sounding dull to his own ears. Where's the emotions he should be feeling over all of this? The sadness, the downright anger. He can't bring himself to drive those feelings to the surface, though they are there, he can't deny that. He's stuck inside his own head with this fury that's threatening to burst out of him, but he's fighting as hard as he can to shove it down and feel nothing. Because, if he does snap, does unleash whatever it is that's burning so hot in his gut at that very moment, he may as well admit that everything Lucy has ever said is accurate. That there is a rage inside of him, just waiting to present itself, to give way into madness. And that's not something he can afford to let her have.
"Happy?" she asks, a lilt of surprise in her tone as she moves towards him. "Why would you think this makes me happy, Simon? I'm not trying to hurt you."
"You could have fooled me."
She stops in front of him and, when she reaches up and touches the sides of his face, he can't even bring himself to pull away. "I'm doing this for us," she tells him. "Don't you see that?" Her hands slide down his cheeks and he jumps when she grabs his wrist. Grabbing hold of the arm of his sweatshirt, she pulls his sleeve up to reveal the healing cuts. She reaches out slowly and gently runs her fingers over them. "I know you feel something for me, Simon. Maybe even love me. You're a bad liar, but these tell the truth. Marks always do."
That's when he sees it, something he never noticed before- something he wouldn't have noticed on those nights they spent together in the dark. It reveals itself in the light, with him standing so close to her- a faint white scar, about two inches long, starting just under her ear and trailing across her neck. "Where did you get that one?" he asks, his voice just barely there.
It's as if he doesn't even need to elaborate what he's talking about. Lucy's eyes go wide and she takes a few steps back, pulling her hair out from behind her ear so her neck is covered in a brown curtain. "That's none of your business. G- go away now." When he doesn't move, she yells the word a few times until, worried that someone will come to check on them, he scurries from the room like a dog with it's tail tucked between its legs.
On his way back to his room, he searches the halls for Emma, even going as far as stepping outside for a minute- despite it being against the rules- to check if she might be out there. She isn't. She's nowhere to found. It isn't all that surprising, he thinks. She's probably back in her room, hiding away from him. The thought makes the pain return to his stomach with a vengeance. Now she's rejecting him, too.
You figure after all this time he'd be used to it.
...
Becca sits on the end of the table, legs swinging back and forth as she chews at one of her fingernails- a nasty habit as their mum would say. A habit they both share. In the chair closest to her, he bites away the skin on his thumb and stares at her. Eventually she pulls her finger away and sighs.
"So, let me get this straight. You've got two girls fighting over you?"
"What, no," he says, his skin flushing. "It's not like that. It's... just the one." This isn't a conversation he ever imagined having with someone, let alone his twelve year old sister, but there aren't many options of people to talk to these days. Becca seems surprised enough that he's confided in her.
"Okay, but two?"
He nods. "Lucy."
"And Emma isn't talking to you."
He nods.
"Well, you've got yourself in a proper mess, huh? I wonder what mum would have to say."
"Don't... don't tell her. Don't say anything, please!"
Becca scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Come on, Simon. You know I wouldn't do that. I didn't even tell them about the suicide note you left. I put it in my closet."
His brows raise, as her words slither into his brain like a worm, twisting and turning around. "You- you hid my note?"
She nods. "I knew it'd only upset them more. Besides, those things you said... about yourself... they weren't very nice." She tilts her head to the side and adds a moment later, "Or true. No one wanted you dead. Well, not us. I didn't want that."
The guilt he feels over her words is nearly agonizing. All these weeks, all the times Becca has come to visit and support him, to try and make him feel better... he hasn't been very kind to her. "Thank you," he says softly. "For... for everything. For being here, now."
She gives him a small smile. "You're my brother," she tells him, like it's the only answer needed. He wonders how he didn't notice it before, how much more mature his little sister has become. He's grateful, just then, to have her there with him. He didn't realize until there was no one to talk to, just how dependant he'd become on having someone around, someone to confide in. He'd forgotten how lonely it could be.
It's nice, he thinks, having Becca here with him.
"So... what should I do?" he asks, staring at her intently, waiting on every breath for her advice.
She pinches her eyebrows together and lets out a heavy breath. "Are you sure you want my opinion? You might not like it."
He shrugs. "What else is there?"
She nods and hops off the table, tucking her thumbs in her jean pockets and kicking at the ground, looking like, even though she has an opinion, she really doesn't want to say it. "All right," she pipes up a second later. "I think you should tell someone, about Lucy. The things she says, how she treats you. You should talk to Doctor Lewis."
Sinking lower in his chair with a cringe, he tells her, "I don't think that's an option."
"Why not?"
The rules, his thoughts whisper. He goes over them in his head, the list of things that are forbidden in the unit. Relationships between patients is prohibited. "We're not supposed to... be with one another in here," he explains. "It's frowned upon." That's the word the therapists use, frowned upon. The words remind him of ones you'd use to explain something to a child, not a grown lot of people- consenting people. "We could get in trouble," he adds. "I could get in a lot of trouble."
"So no one's caught you, then. Sneaking out of your rooms at night, I mean?" She says it quiet, and he's glad for it.
He shakes his head.
"Well..." He waits for her to scold him for his bad decisions, for putting his someday release in jeopardy. She surprises him, though. She's surprised him a lot during this short visit. "Just be careful," she tells him with a small grin. It quickly fades, though, as it dawns on her- much as it's already struck him- that they still haven't come up with a solution for his problem. Becca pulls one hand away from her pocket and taps her chin. "I think... I know you don't like the idea, but I still think you should talk to Doctor Lewis."
"Becca-"
"No, hear me out. You don't have to tell her everything, but... at least let her know something. Make something up if you have to. Lie."
You're a bad liar. Lucy's words are a snake- like whisper in his ear. "I don't know."
"Simon, Lucy... do you, do you think she could be a dangerous? To you? You don't think she'd try and hurt you, do you?"
He thinks it over for a minute, recalling what she'd said in the rec room just days before, that she didn't want to hurt him. How she confessed that she loved him. "N- no," he murmurs. "I don't... think so. She's just upset."
"Because you and Emma hang out. She's jealous?"
He ducks his head. "I guess so? I don't know." He peeks up at Becca. "I care about both of them. I still care about Lucy, and... I hate myself for it, almost. But it's not..." He sighs. "I don't think I'm enough for her. It's like... like I can't give her what she's looking for." His eyebrows come together. "I don't think she knows what she's looking for."
They sit in silence for a while before Becca speaks again. First, she smiles, a big grin. "You've talked to me," she muses. "A lot."
He smiles back. "Yeah, I guess I have."
Her smile only seems to grow. "I like it. Lets keep doing it. Tell me about Emma."
Emma. For just one minute, he allows himself to let go of the negative aspects that currently pertain to their relationship- if he can even call it that at the minute- and the things he's already told Becca about, and focus on the good.
The corner of his lip quirks. "Her favorite soda is orange. She said, if sunshine had a taste, it would be orange." He thinks of the first time he met her. "She paints her nails a different color every day, but she likes blue the best. Sometimes she paints them to match her mood."
"What else?" Becca presses, leaning forward, staring at him intensly with those same blue eyes he sees every time he looks in the mirror.
Um, she doesn't like pork or eggs. But she loves Chille. She doesn't like chess, but she still knows how to play it... and kicks anyone's arse at it. During rec, her favorite thing to do is put together puzzles. Sometimes she'll sing along to the music that plays on the speakers during free time. She... she has a great singing voice." He smiles. "She's really funny, too. She makes me laugh. I can talk to her. About anything. She makes me feel... good."
Becca lets out a soft sigh. "She sounds wonderful, Simon."
He nods. "She is. I like having her as a friend. I hoped maybe we could... be more than that."
Becca's eyes widen. "Do you think... maybe... maybe I could meet her sometime?"
He entertains this idea for a moment, a girl he likes and his sister hanging out. It could be a complete disaster. Becca- like him- has never had many friends. But... it could also be great, maybe. She'd have a girl to be around that she could talk to, look up to... do things with. He likes the idea of her having someone to be around, to make her happy. Especially now. "That'd be great," he tells her. "Maybe when we get out of here?" His heartbeat quickens. "Maybe she could meet mum?"
Becca grins. "Oh, Simon, mum would love that. She'd be so happy!"
Just as quick as his excitement came, all those nice thoughts, it passes. "Except she's not talking to me," he recalls, his spirits quickly sinking. "She probably hates me right now."
She shakes her head. "I don't think she does. She's probably just hurt and needs some time."
Simon stares at her for a long time before asking, "When did you get so smart?"
A small chuckle escapes her. "Probably about the same time you started talking to me and stopped being so stupid."
He nods. "I guess I deserve that. I was acting like a right twat."
"It's okay. I forgive you." Her tone is light and teasing, making him smile. He thinks of how long its been since he and Becca had time to bond. He knows this has been a good experience for both of them.
"You know what you should do? As an apology to Emma, this is." There's a slight gleam in Becca's eyes. "Get her some flowers. Girls love flowers."
"I'm in a mental hospital," he reminds her.
She frowns. "Right. Oh! You could draw her something. You guys do those art things here, right? Do it then and give it to her. I'm sure she'd like it. Then you guys can talk and work stuff out."
He goes over the weekly schedule in his head. Art class is on Wednesday, only three days away. Surely he can hold out for another three days? "That's a good idea, thanks."
Becca beams. "Make sure you let me know how it goes."
Just then, the door opens and a nurse- one he's come to know quiet well during his stay- pokes her head inside. "Time's up."
Becca looks back at her with a pout. "Five more minutes?"
She shakes her head. "Sorry, honey. Rules are rules. Simon here has his one on one therapy in ten minutes here, anyway."
His sister looks back at him with her eyebrows raised, the corner of her mouthing tugging at a smile. "One on one therapy with Doctor Lewis?" She draws the words out like a reminder of her suggestion earlier. "Okay. Guess its time for me to go."
Simon stands up and, this time, instead of waiting for her to cross the room, he goes to her. He wraps his arms around her in an embrace tighter than he's given her during any of their meetings, and he can feel her sigh into his shirt. It doesn't take long for it to feel awkward, though, and he pulls away with a couple pats on her back.
"It was good seeing you," he says. "Thanks again. You know, for-"
"I know," she cuts in. "Better go before mum comes calling. We don't want that."
He nods in agreement.
"Well, see ya, Simon." She gives him a parting wave, and then she's gone. It's unexpected, how strongly he misses her when he's alone again, something he wasn't prepared to feel.
"That seemed like it went well," the nurse says as he leaves the room.
"It did," he answers with a small smile. It takes him a minute to register that the nurse isn't walking behind him. Turning around, he finds she's stopped and is staring at him. "What?" he asks, alarmed by her reaction. What did he do wrong?
"You're talking," she replies, the shock apparent by the quiver in her voice. "I've looked after you for quite a while now, and I've never heard you breathe a word. You talked!"
He nearly laughs. "I guess I did."
"Your visit must have gone very well," she says, beginning to walk again. "I'll have to let Doctor Lewis know. Or... or you could tell her yourself?"
"Maybe." It's a lie, of course, but he won't admit that aloud. Not when the nurse looks so happy about this new change. He doesn't want to dampen her spirits.
"This is progress, Simon," she tells him. "Keep it up and you could be out of here in no time."
For a moment, just one, the idea appeals to him. He imagines walking out those doors and never coming back. He'll do better out there, try harder. He'll never give anyone a reason to send him back. He's making progress, she'd say. He can do progress. That is, until he remembers that progress means getting out, and getting out means leaving Emma behind. Here alone... with Lucy.
This thought alarms him so strongly he shivers. That can't happen, he can't let that happen.
"So what did you and your sister chat about?" the nurse asks.
Simon turns away without a word and starts to hurridly walk away.
"Simon?" she calls out. "Simon!"
He ignores her and picks up the pace, eyes locked ahead of him until he's opening the door to his room and quickly slipping inside. The door clicks shut loud enough to make him jump. That was close, he tells himself. Too close. He knows he can't afford to make that mistake again. It's strange to him, then, how desperate he felt the desire to stay when he realized what that meant giving up. For so long he's been trapped in this place, losing himself, so determined to leave... until someone gave him a reason to stay.
Is that a blessing or a curse, he wonders.
...
Silence is a strange thing, he notices, the way it can be a relief... or it's own personal curse. Sometimes he enjoys his own quiet, alone outside on the bench, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds around him. Silence makes him notice things he didn't when there was someone around to chat with, like the way this leaves on the trees make a sort of hum when the wind blows through them, or the musical notes the birds nearly leave behind as they fly overhead.
Other times, the silence is so defeaning he's sure it'll cause madness, another lapse in his sanity. He'll find himself missing the sound of Lucy's pencil scraping against her sketch pad, and Emma's tinkling laugh. He hears it in his sleep, when the quiet isn't an option. He wonders when things will set themselves right and he'll have someone to be around again. He questions how much longer he'll have to wait. It could be a while, he knows.
Until then, he keeps up with his silence, the not talking. He's worked so hard at it, in fact, that Doctor Lewis becomes concerned for his well- being, thinking he's falling into another deep depression, like the one that brought him here. She decides to up his med dosage. Coincidentally, that same day, there's a bedroom raid for their entire hall.
From the corner of the room, he watches them tear through his personal belongings, checking for anything they consider a danger to himself or other patients. They come up empty handed at every turn. That is, until one of the nurses picks his pillow up from the bed. He tries to stop her as she pulls at the pillowcase, but one of the male nurses holds him back.
As the case slides away from the pillow, all his saved up pills come tumbling out, scattering across the floor.
"What do we have here?" she asks.
He lets out a ragged breath and hangs his head. "I can explain."
They don't let him. That night, a nurse stands there watching him as he takes his pill, refusing to leave until she's checked every corner of his mouth to make sure it's gone. A half an hour after she's left, lying there in his bed, he can feel the medicine start to take hold of him. It starts in his mind, of course, his thoughts becoming distorted and scattered, a sort of fog taking over his brain. His limbs become heavy not long after, so heavy he can't find the strength to move them.
Immediately he decides he doesn't like this new medicine. He can hardly function, feeling trapped in his own groggy mind. Maybe tomorrow, during his one on one, he'll talk. Just long enough to ask the doctor to lower the dose, or give him something different.
He thinks of going to the bathroom and making himself sick it up, something a lot easier said than done. His body seems determined to remain right where it is, like he's lost control of it. No, he doesn't like this feeling at all.
Sleep turns out to be the only thing he is capable of. The weight of how tired he becomes is impossible to fight. It drags him under and holds him there until he slips away.
His bed creaking is what wakes him up. That and the sensation of weight pressed on top of his body. He knows right away, even with the slight fog still hovering in his brain, that it isn't the medicine doing this to him, though his limbs are still feeling quite heavy.
Simon opens his eyes, peering through the blur to the spot that the weight is pushing on. He bites back a scream.
Lucy leans back so her face is no longer pressed so close to his and shifts her body. It makes his ribs scream in protest. She's sitting on his chest.
"W- what are you doing?" he asks, blinking away sleep, his voice shaking. His body, too.
"Hi to you, too," she says, pushing her fingers through his hair. When he turns his head away she sighs. "Do we really need to do this?"
"You... you shouldn't be in here. I- I'll call for someone."
"No you won't. You wanna know how I know that?" Something cold touches the side of his throat. "You remember that blade I showed you I had? Still got it, Simon. And if you make one noise, I'm going to cut you with it."
Simon swallows hard and he can feel his bladder contract. What was it he'd said to Becca about Lucy? That she wasn't dangerous to him? That she'd never harm him? How wrong could he have been? A tremor passed down his spine, making his calves quiver. "P- please. I won't do anything. I promise."
He can see her smile. "Good. Besides, if you did that, and I maybe had to do what I would have to do... well, you'd never get to hear about your girlfriend."
His body tenses, limbs locking. "Emma?" he asks, breathless.
"Who else?" Lucy snaps. "I saw her today, outside. She didn't know I was there, but I heard her talking to her room mate about you."
He grits his teeth and attempts to wiggle out from under her. If only his arms didn't feel so heavy he could push her off and assume he'd stand some chance.
Lucy giggles quietly. "Oh, come on. Don't you want to hear how it went? She said she misses you."
The words dig at his insides like tiny daggers. She misses him? She told someone that she misses him?All this time, the days spent apart from her, he had no idea. And here's Lucy, being the one to tell him. He would have liked to hear the news in some other way than this.
"What did you do?" he asks, suspecting there's more to this story than what she's telling him.
"Nothing." There isn't a single S in the word, but Lucy manages to make it sound like a hiss. "I didn't try to talk to her at all, okay? But I did listen. You know they talked about what happened in the rec room. Oh, Simon, it was so hard not to reveal myself, to not laugh at it all."
Simon closes his eyes tight and tries to tune her out, make himself go far away from here. He thinks, if he gives her nothing, not a single reaction, maybe this will stop. Maybe she'll go away.
Lucy leans forward, close enough that he can feel the heat of her breath. His chest is staring to hurt quite badly. "You wanna know what I think?" She moves until her lips are close to his ear. "I think she's threatend by me, Simon. By us."
Simons eyes fly open as Lucy sits back. He struggles to take a breath. "What?"
"Yeah," she replies, sitting back so he can see her sardonic grin. "I mean, look at how close we've always been. We're such good friends. And then she comes along," Lucy sucks in air between her teeth. "We just can't have that. We can't."
"You-" He tries to jerk upward, but the blade at his throat nicks the skin and he shrinks back. "Lucy," he swallows hard and feels another stab of panic at the blade tightening on his flesh. "I don't..."
She beats a closed fist against his shoulders and he flinches with each blow. "What's not to get, Simon? It's like... it's like those times we've played chess. It's a game. Eliminate those pawns and you win."
"This isn't a fucking game," he cries.
Lucy sighs. "Maybe you're right. You were never very good at chess. I was always beating you. How about we look at it this way. I like you, and you like Emma. The answer is simple, give Emma a reason not to like you. What else am I supposed to do? She's going to take you away from me!"
"I'm not yours to take," he bites out. "We're friends. We were friends."
"Sure, because that's what you were thinking when yours hands were on my tits at night, yeah?"
His skin heats. "That- that didn't-"
"Didn't what?" she hisses. "Didn't mean anything? You should thinks carefully about what words you use, Simon." She pushes on the blade and he can feel a tiny drop of blood slip down his neck. "Wouldn't want me to become distraught and slip."
He swallows hard. "I- I don't know," he chokes out. "I don't know what you want."
"See," she whispers, "such a bad liar." She sits up and slides back far enough that she's no longer on his chest, but makes sure her knees are pressing his hands into the mattress. It's not something he can muster the strength to care about as he takes his first deep breath since this started. His stomach rolls.
"I have to go now," Lucy tells him. "But we'll see each other tomorrow, right?"
He nods weakly.
"All right." She holds up the blade that, just seconds ago, had been at his throat, and waves it back and forth. "I want you to remember this moment, okay? When you think about talking to someone. When you get the urge to go to Emma. I want you to think about how easy it would be for me to sneak in here while you're sleeping and make you wish you hadn't."
"I- I won't say anything. I swear."
"I know you won't," she answers with a cool smile.
He nods again.
"Goodnight, Simon." Lucy scrambles off him and is out of his room before he even has time to sit up. When he finally does move, it's to roll to his side, lean over the edge of his bed, and vomit on the floor. His whole body is shaking uncontrollably. Even when his stomach is empty, he continues to dry heave, his throat and stomach constricting. With a shaking hand, he reaches up and runs his fingers over the spot Lucy had pressed that thin blade against, his fingers coming away sticky with his own blood.
I could have died, he thinks, just before passing out.
...
The clock tick, tick, ticks on some wall in the room, counting down the minutes until he can leave, scurry away on heavy feet with the things he was supposed to say still trapped behind his teeth. When he can return to his room and bury his face in his pillow and just scream and scream and scream until his lungs want to pop under the pressure of the things he needs to get out of him.
Fifty- eight minutes.
"Simon?"
His eyes snap up to the chair in front of him, to the woman sitting there with glasses too big for her face and matted hair piled in a bun on top of her head, giant front teeth biting into her lower lip for the dozenth time since he got in the room. Doctor Lewis, his therapist. The one who is always asking, "Do you want to talk?" The way she's just done.
He shakes his head.
"There must be something," she presses. "What about Matt?"
Matt? Funny to him how after all this time, his name still illicits the worst reactions, invountary reflexes. Just his name makes him shiver and his stomach tighten, his breath quickening. "I don't want to," he replies.
Doctor Lewis sighs and pushes her glasses up her nose. "All right, so what would you like to talk about? There must be something." Her voice drips like sweet, liquid honey, all warm and inviting, He's heard that voice every day since he got here. She sounds nice. Caring, even, and it makes him feel bad for always being so difficult. Lucy's always called her a cunt, but he's never seen her that way. She's just doing her job. She makes him want to talk.
"My new medicine," he mumbles.
She leans forward in her chair. "What was that?"
"M- my new medicine," he says a little louder, clearer. "I don't like it."
Her eyes widen, just a fraction, but enough for him to know she's surprised he's expressed feelings about something. "Okay, what don't you like about it?"
"I- it makes me feel funny."
"Funny, how?"
He thinks of the other night in his room, the way the drug had yanked him under it's strong hold and kept him there. "Just funny," he answers.
"Hm, it could be your body simply needs time to adjust to it? We could always adjust the dose and see how that works?"
"Thanks," he replies quietly, eyes slipping to the clock. Fifty five minutes.
"Is there anything else? Simon?"
He looks back at her and, before he can stop it, the name tumbles between his lips. "Lucy..."
She blinks in surprise. "Lucy? You mean Lucy that's here in the unit?" He nods and she's quick to ask, "What about her?"
His gaze falls on the floor as his other hand comes up to press his hair down. "Why is she in here?" he all but whispers.
Doctor Lewis eyes him for a long minute before letting out a small tsk. "You know I can't give out that sort of information. Perhaps you could ask her yourself why she's here."
She lies, he thinks. Doesn't say it, though, only gnashes his teeth together until his jaw aches.
"Why do you ask?" Doctor Lewis presses. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
She's going to kill me. One day.
"It's nothing," he answers.
Nothing.
Just a secret he needs to scream out later. His attention goes back to the clocks tick, tick, ticking on the wall.
Fifty- one minutes.
...
She makes him question his sanity.
They sit across from one another at the lunch table, Lucy working on another drawing while Simon lets his mind wander. It feels like any other normal day they've spent together. Every so often he'll look up from the table and catch Lucy staring at him. Her upper lip will twitch in a small grin and she'll quickly go back to drawing. She acts like everything between them is fine.
Did the other night really happen? He wonders if maybe he dreamt it, that it was simply the medicine he took that gave him realistic nightmares about Lucy sneaking into his room in the middle of the night and threatening his life. What if he's really gone mad and everything bad that's happened lately has just been some sort of strange figment of his imagination? Things like that happen in places like this, he knows.
Still, just to be sure, he discreetly reaches up and touches his neck. There's a scab there, no bigger than the tip of his nail. If anyone were to notice it, they'd think he merely cut himself shaving. That's not the case. Lucy had pressed a blade to his skin. She had threatened him. And now she was sitting across from him pretending like it never happened.
She looks up at him again and his skin prickles, hairs standing up on end. "What's wrong?" she asks, setting her pencil down. "You haven't touched your jello at all."
His eyes dart to the green pack sitting next to his food and his stomach lurches. "N- nothing's wrong. I'm not very hungry." It's not true, of course. In all reality he's starving, having hardly been able to eat for the past couple days with all the stress he's been under. He could eat both their lunches if he wanted to, but the fear of sicking it back up stops him from doing so. He's too nervous around her to do anything lately.
"It doesn't look like nothing. You look upset." She reaches out and sets her hand over his and it takes everything in his power not to snatch it away. "Are you mad at me, Simon?"
He glances up at her, the word at the back of his throat. He wants so badly to tell her the truth, that he hasn't been this angry with someone since Matt. It's obvious that isn't an option. Who knows what she might do if he were to be honest with her? "No," he answers flatly. "I'm not."
She yanks her hand away and briskly shuts her drawing notebook. "Why do you do that?" Her hardened stare finds his own wide- eyed one. "Why do you bullshit me?"
Licking his lips, he tells her, "I don't... I'm not. I- I don't know what you want from me, Lucy."
"Who says I want anything from you?" She rolls her eyes. "We're just sitting together having lunch. You could stop looking like being around me is so awful you want to kill yourself."
"That's just my face," he mumbles, looking back at the table. He wishes she would stop looking at him, it makes his skin crawl.
"That's rubbish. You never look like you want to be around me anymore."
He sighs. "Would you want to be around someone that treated you like you treat me? Who threatened your life?" There it is, his mouth's gotten ahead of his brain again. He cringes at peeks up at her and, sure enough, she's glaring at him.
"You're being a bit over dramatic," she says with the cluck of her tongue.
"What? T- that's what you did!"
"Well, if you would just do what I want-"
He shakes his head.
"Don't do that!" she yells, causing him to jump, and a nurse to catch notice of what's just happened and come briskly walking toward them. Lucy must see the alarm on his face because she turns around to see what's surprised him. "Great," she mutters as the nurse comes up behind her.
"Everything all right here?"
Lucy's upper lip twitches in annoyance for the briefest of moments before she reigns it in, smiles, and turns around to look at the nurse. "Small disagreement, is all," she tells her. "It's fine now. Right, Simon?" She looks at him, still smiling that fake smile.
Be nothing, he tells himself. Show nothing and then maybe no one will notice that inside he's screaming, begging for an escape. Then maybe the fall out with Lucy won't be so bad when the nurse decides to finally leave.
"Everything's fine," he says quietly.
The nurse doesn't move. "Are you sure?" she presses, eyeing Simon warily. She knows. The panic he's feeling must be showing on his face and she can see it.
Lucy turns around, no longer hiding her iritation. "Did he not just say we're fine? Why are you still here?"
The nurse gives Lucy a smile. "I'd watch your tone." Her gaze finds Simon again. "What time do you have session?"
Simon swallows hard and clears his throat. "Two- thirty."
"Twenty minutes, then? Why don't you head down early. I can call down and let Doctor Lewis know you're coming."
His eyes widen and dart to Lucy. Her mouth is set in a thin, straight line. There's a fire in her eyes, an angry wrath, waiting to unleash. Simon looks at the nurse, a plead he hopes she can see written on his face. Go away. Go away and maybe it won't be so bad.
"Come on," the nurse says. "Get up and go on."
He bounces his leg under the table for a moment before finally giving in with a nod and rushing to his feet. He struggles to maintain his composure as he slides off the bench. Making sure not to look at Lucy, he keeps his eyes cast to the floor and moves away from the table. The last thing he does, before scurrying off, is to take a quick glance at the nurse. She gives him a reassuring smile and bob of her head, and he could amost hug her he thinks. He can feel Lucy's glare, burning into his back when he walks away.
Down the hall, the sight of her jars him. He goes from walking hurridly down the hallway to stopping in his tracks with a sharp jerk of his body and his heart quickly clawing its way inside his throat. She stops when she spots him, right there in the middle of the hall, only steps away from him. She's close enough that he can hear her sharp intake of air, and it's like a song he hasn't heard in a long time. He drinks in the sight of her and his chest aches.
It's unusual for him, seeing Emma this way, looking so tired and sad. He glances at her fingers and finds they aren't painted, and it only makes the pain in his gut intensify. His stare goes back to her face, and he's thrown off by the sudden change in her demeaner. She has her head held high now, face set into a hard, stone-y look. She's gone from looking depressed to defiant in a matter of seconds.
The amount of strength it takes just to raise his heavy hand is almost exhausting. "H- hello," he croaks.
She lifts her head higher and raises two fingers in the air, then turns around and walks away, leaving him standing their with his mouth slightly agape and a sting at the corner of his eyes. His racing heart plumets, the knots in his stomach tightening in such a way that he body almost seems... cruel in that moment. He wonders if it will ever stop betraying him.
Mostly, he wishes Emma would come back. Just come back and talk to him. He would even take yelling. Anything would be better than this lonely nothing.
He smooths his hair down and sighs, turning around, only to run into someone standing there. He has to look up to see who it is, and is surprised to find a girl looking down at him- a girl from group. Not just any girl, though, the one he and Lucy had gotten into an argument over. Emma's room-mate Sara. She nearly hovers over him, then, and he swallows nervously.
"Hello."
She crosses her arms and lowers her eyes. "What've you done to Emma?"
He blinks hard in surprise at the question, mustering up a strangled, "What?"
"Emma, ya wanker. What ya done to her that's made her so upset? Crying her eyes out and shit every night."
"I- I don't understand." He starts looking aound for an escape route, and gets mildly scared when he can't find one. He glances back up at the girl. "What is it to you?"
"What..." She scoffs. "I'm her room- mate, Simon. I'm the one looking after her at night when she's upset over some bloke who hurt her." She pokes him in the chest hard enough that it stings. "You made a mess of things, mate. Best get to fixing it."
"I- I don't-"
"Simon!"
He jumps at his name being called and slowly turns his head to see Lucy stomping towards him. Perfect, just what he needed.
"You gotta be shitting me," Sara mutters as Lucy approaches.
Lucy doesn't even acknowledge that she's standing there, focusing all her attention on Simon. "You just leave me there like that? What is your problem?"
He tightens his jaw. "The nurse told me to leave."
"You didn't have to listen to her," she cries, slapping at his arm.
"Oi, the fuck are you doing? Leave him alone!" Sara jumps in.
Simons's stomach drops as he realizes that this has the potential to get very bad. He wants more than anything to be far away from it all when it does. Maybe he'll be able to slip away while they're screaming at each other?
Lucy turns, sees Sara, and her eyes widen for a moment. The they lower into little slits. "Oh, hello baby killer," she croons.
Sara rolls her eyes. "That ain't gonna work now. I've been getting proper help. Your words are shit, yeah."
It's obvious Lucy doesn't have a rebuttal by the way she quickly gives up on the girl and goes back to Simon, shoving a finger in his face. "Listen here-" she starts to say, but it's cut off seconds later by her sharp cry when Sara grabs the end of her finger and twists it back. "Let me go, you slag!" she shrieks.
Sara pulls her finger back farther and Lucy lets out another cry. "Call me slag one more time and I'm gonna tear it off, ya got it?"
Lucy looks up at her with now wide eyes and nods.
"And leave Simon here alone! Or I'll bladder ya for that, too." She flings Lucy's hand away from her and squares her shoulders. "You need to go."
Lucy's eyes go to Simon. She wonders how she can look scared and mad all at the same time. She looks back at Sara. "I'm going to make you regret that," she tells her.
"I'll be waiting," Sarah replies calmly, cracking a grin when Lucy turns and scurries away.
Simon's never felt such a swell of gratification. He lets out a sigh of relief and tells her, "Thank you."
"Why are you even friends with her? She's a right nutter!"
He flinches. "Some of us are still learning from our mistakes. She wasn't always like that. You should be careful."
Sara sniffs indignately. "Little bitch doesn't scare me. But I'll tell ya what, mate, whatever you got going on... should get it sorted. 'Specially with Emma."
His heart skips. "I know. I'm trying."
"All right, then. Oh, and thanks. Never got to say it when you stood up for me that day. You know that's when Emma started really liking you, yeah?"
"What?"
Sara shrugs. "She said she knew you had a good heart. Can't say she was wrong. Catch ya later."
He stands there for a while after she's left, staring at the spot she stood, repeating her words in his head. He wonders how a few simple words can make him feel so good, and hurt him at the same time. He almost wishes she hadn't said anything at all. It's not like Emma's thinking about his good heart now.
Or Lucy, not that he'd care very much if she did. Though he deludes himself for a moment that maybe if she felt that way, things would be different. Lucy seems to hate him as much as she likes him. And right now Emma doesn't like him at all.
The heart is a stupid thing, he thinks.
...
Thoughts are appreciated!