I'm Dying To Live (Rewriting)

Chapter 7

Alex's POV

I sat crouched in the corner of my room digging the heels of my hands into my eyes to try and stop the tears. My mom had asked me what was wrong several times, but eventually left me alone probably thinking that the memories of Tom were overwhelming me again. That was part of the reason that I was sobbing, but there was a bigger reason.

I had hurt the only person who cared about me, and there seemed to be a lot more pain other than just the contact of the punch which seemed to be painful enough as it was. I swallowed thickly, my mind roaming back to a few days ago. I had hit him, just as he asked me to; right in the same eye that someone else had hit him in and for a second he stared at me in shock like he had never expected that from me. I surely hadn't expected that from me. Then, he slunk away from me and sat on the floor, back against the wall, completely shutting me out while I apologized and cried and yelled and tried to hug him. He just sat there, stiff as a plank, irresponsive staring a hole into the ground by his feet, his mouth set in a half grimace.

As I tried to touch his face where I'd hit him though, he leapt up in terror, his eyes showing a mixture of negative emotions, mainly pain and fear, and he grabbed his bag and ran away. So far I'd sent him over 20 texts and attempted to call him around 15 times. He hadn't answered nor declined the calls, they just rang out, and each time that happened I left a voicemail the length of the average fall out boy song title, which mainly consisted of me saying sorry in as many different ways I could think of.

My mom banged on my bedroom door. I barely looked up. "Alex, dinner is ready and Jack is out the back helping with the garden, bless him." I perked up at his name, wiping at my face roughly with my sleeve and wincing as the fabric of my skinny jeans rubbed against my thighs, slapping them quickly and swearing to myself before getting up. The sting afterwards always gave me a certain fucked up pleasure, but I guess I was fucked up so it didn't really matter. "Is he okay Alex? He doesn't look...himself."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

I heard my mom sigh from behind the door. "Come and see for yourself Lex." I had a mental fight with myself as to what I was going to do, whether I should go out into the garden and see him or just mill around downstairs in the hope of him seeing and approaching me.

I slowly made my way downstairs, it had been 5 days since I had came out of my room not including the occasional visit to the toilet, and so it felt slightly foreign for me to be walking down the stairs with my mom's eyes on me as she watched me from the sofa. "Your dinners in the microwave sweetie," she informed me, smiling comfortingly at me as I walked past, the relief of seeing me present in her voice. "And Jack's just out back."

I smiled back at her, silently thankful that she wasn't trying to talk to me about my recent closure and frequent breakdowns. She was trying, even though she wasn't the slightest bit aware of what was happening, she was trying and I was grateful for that. "Thanks mom."

I carried on into the kitchen, pressing the button on the side of the microwave and watching my food turn around and around. Mom looked comfortable, and I wasn't about to ruin it by letting my mood dampen the atmosphere.

One side of the kitchen was completely glass that overlooked the garden, and on another wall were French doors leading into a conservatory on the side. I looked out of the window to see Jack mowing the lawn, bits of grass and dirt in his hair and his back to me. I was honestly surprised that he was still going to come and help my family; it had been just under a week since it had happened, but I was still surprised to see him so soon. I knew he wouldn't leave us hanging after all this time helping us, but I didn't think I'd see him again so fast. If I was him I wouldn't be helping me, but Jack's not me. He cares more than me. He actually has a heart.