Asylum

Innocence

Lana Elwood

I heard the door open and close when Alex came back, disturbing my light sleep. Before I opened my eyes, I listened; heard his agonizing sigh and defeated, shuffling feet across the tile. Heard the creaking of a barstool as he sat down. Slowly, I cracked open my eyes. Faint sunlight was streaming through the sliding glass doors, and Alex was hunched over the counter. I stretched, feeling something fuzzy brush against my cheek as the sheets shift. The blanket I placed over Alex has been replaced over me.

Alex hears my stirring and turns, his ash-blonde hair sticking out all over the place, his eyes droopy and drained. "Did I wake you?" he asks, voice dry and needing a high dose of water.

"Yes," I tell him. "But it's fine. I needed to be awake, anyways. Where were did you go?"

He grimaces. His nervous tick kicks in and he wrings his hands together, studying the floor. "Alex," I command. "What do you have to tell me?"

"I met up with Xavier. He was interested on the events of the bunker coming from our side, but I didn't tell him much. There wasn't much to tell." Alex continues to gnaw on the side of his cheek, hands still overlapping each other.

"What aren't you telling me?" I calmly inquire, slipping out of bed and padding across the floor. I try to work the outdated coffee pot, filling it with water and filling the filter with coffee grains. Meticulously, Alex watches my movement.

"I'll wait for the coffee," he mumbles, burying his chin in his hand.

Crossing my arms, I prop myself against a counter and stare him in the eye until he meets mine. "You'll wait for nothing," I grouch. "What is it you're withholding? It isn't your job to baby me."

Alex snorts, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, but it's your job to baby me?" he cries. "It seems like a bit of a double standard, Lana."

I grimace, still unused to my birthname being spoken, as well as unused to being categorized as anything besides the murderous drone I know I am. It's like if someone calls me by my name, I'm still just a girl; defenseless, weak, ignorant. Honest, Alex told me. "I haven't lied to you since last time."

"And I've never lied," he points out.

The coffeepot sputters, the hot black beverage pouring into the glass. I watch it for a while, pondering over something Alex told me a while ago. "When I almost killed myself in this kitchen...you stopped me. You said you had your own reasons for doing so. Will you tell me now, what they are?"

Alex sizes me up, as he always does before he tells me information or stories that are sensitive. He searches for something in me whenever he does so, and every time, he finds it. It makes me question what it is he sees in me. "Whenever I switched identities, I did unspeakable things, yet I would have no recollection of my actions. I'd only be present for the consequences. I never wanted to do any of that, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Eventually, I got sick of hurting people. I thought the only way I could stop it was to stop my own life."

Once coffee is finished, I pour it into two mugs, which probably used to be the homes of cockroaches. We don't have sugar or creamer, so black is going to have to do. I place the cup in front of him, and when Alex peers down in it, he wrinkles his nose, but sips it anyways. "You tried to kill yourself before?"

He nods, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "A few times." I try to imagine willingly wanting to die, multiple times, all for the love of others. My trained reaction is to curl my lips downwards in disgust and scoff at him for being so weak. But my raw, true response is rather touched, and sad that someone as bright as Alex was ever in a place as dark as suicide. "But every time, my attempts failed because I turned. While I might've wanted to die, the other identities didn't."