Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day Fifteen

This chapter contains religious views. Reminder: these views are of characters in this story and are not necessarily my beliefs and are not meant to offend anyone, as they are beliefs of characters in a work of fiction.

Jack. Day Fifteen - 7:26

"Where the fuck did you go last night?" Alex wandered into the kitchen like nothing had happened, his face complete with a smirk and all. In fact, he looked particularly proud of himself and that was just fucking ridiculous. I hoped that ego killed him some day- well, not exactly, seeing as I was awfully dependent upon him, ego and all.

"None of your business." Of course, being Alex and with that ego intact, he passed it off like it was nothing, stumbling into the kitchen in a clearly terribly sleep deprived state, which in turn led me to worry about him further. He looked as if the moment I fell asleep he'd left entirely, and left to do what? That part was really the bit that worried me.

Alex was irrational beyond belief and possibly even a little insane at times, but don't we all enjoy a little dip within the realms of insanity? The thing is, Alex's insanity spanned further than spewing random crap at various intervals, eating root vegetables in awkward situations, or even not bringing a banana to a party.

Alex's insanity was the kind of insanity that caused him to believe in angels; things that weren't even there. He heard their voices and I was really kind of scared as to what they were saying to him, or well what he thought they were saying to him, because whatever they were saying had somehow influenced him to press the barrel of a gun to his temples and rest his index finger over the trigger.

Then, there was also the fact that Alex had killed people. Real, living, breathing, thinking, feeling, people. People with families and lives, and lovers and friends - people who'd be missed. I think that was maybe why he hadn't killed me.

It was easy to overlook the fact that Alex had kidnapped me, because never before had I felt so important to anyone. He needed me; he kept me alive for a reason. He loved me. He was going to kill me, but he didn't and the only reason he didn't was because of who I am.

He appreciated me, and the fact that I'm living, eating, sleeping with, and kissing a killer seems irrelevant. Because he doesn't seem like some psychopath who's killed six people; he seems like Alex Gaskarth, my boyfriend, with the cute smile and the dark brown eyes.

Before, back at home with my parents and my brother, I'd always felt so alone. I didn't matter then, I didn't matter to anyone back home, and it seems drastic, but I think that maybe I'd even go as far as to say that Alex practically did them all a favour by getting rid of me, taking me off their hands. At first things, things weren't great - I'm not going to lie by any means, but now things are perfect.

As odd as it sounds, Alex Gaskarth practically saved my life. And how did he achieve that? By wanting to kill me. He didn't succeed though, and that was the key point here.

"Yeah, actually it kind of is my business, considering that I'm worried about you." I protested, breaking out of my thoughts after what felt like hours spent daydreaming, whereas in reality, barely a few seconds had passed. Time really did work in weird ways, but it's all a matter of consciousness, I guess.

"You don't have to be worried about me - that's your stupid decision so this consequence is all your fault." He pushed past me, getting into the main area of the kitchen to get some food, or maybe just so he didn't have to look at me. I went for the former, because it didn't hurt as much.

He mumbled something incoherently under his breath, grabbing a piece of bread and shoving it straight into the toaster, cranking the thing up to a heat that would surely cause the toast to burn. I didn't dare ask him as to what he'd said because for one I was scared of how he'd react to my question, and even more scared as to what the answer could possibly entail.