Self-Destruction Made Easy: An Alex Rider Fanfiction

Unfortunate Happenings

Heyyyyy, how y'all doing?

... ... ... ...

Ok so, I know it's been...what? Three months?

I am terribly sorry, and I'm not saying this won't happen again, because God knows I will never develop a steady uplead schedule. BUT, I am really going to try to put together a better chapter soon, and if you have any requests, pieces of constructive criticism, or any ways you think I could make this better, don't hesitate to comment!

Thanks for reading, Ily always,

Panic!

"-He slowly unbuttoned the shirt and watched as all of their faces slowly contorted into expressions of shock and worry."

He squeezed his eyes shut and jumped off the board, executing arguably one of the best dives in his life, which was ironic. The water was freezing, and it took his breath away. Despite this, he tried to stay under as long as possible.

In the fifteen seconds, he had to get composed, his mind was filled with possible explanations as to why he looked like that. The water swirled around his head, engulfing his body, and coaxing him to stay longer. His senses were heightened because of the cold and there was almost too much input to handle at once. Trying to concentrate got harder and harder, and he started panicking. It was an odd sensation, having a panic attack underwater, but an unwelcome one all the same. All of a sudden, somewhere in his panic-ridden brain, the thought 'car accident' popped into his head. He didn't have anything else, so he'd have to go with it.

He pushed off of the bottom of the pool and breached the surface only one second later. Alex gasped, and his lungs welcomed the embrace of the warm air. He immediately pressed his face into his hands and tried to breathe. He tried to remember what those damned breathing exercises were......and what things did he have to see or hear or whatever? How many? Straining his brain made everything worse, and this was one of those rare occasions where he physically could not remain composed. And at the worst time too.

He was barely aware of the sounds of people talking, maybe to him, maybe to each other, but they were too far away to make out. He swallowed and walked to the steps that led into the pool.

'In and out, in and out, inand out, inandout, inandout, inandout'. He sat down.

Trying to get his breathing under control was futile, and everything was getting worse and worse and worse and worse. He tried so hard to control what was going on inside of him, the panic, and the pain, the replaying memories, and the downward spiral spinning dangerously out of control.

He slammed his fist against the inside wall of the pool in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Pain will do that most of the time, but it's definitely not healthy. He did it several more times until his fist caught on a corner tile and a sharp one at that. He carved up the side of his fist, and part of his wrist on accident, and blood gushed into the pool.

"Fuck.." He mumbled. Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder. He was startled and tried to fight against it. It pulled back immediately

"Alex....it's Tony. You need to breathe. It'll be ok, but I need you to do something for me, ok?"

Having no other options, Alex nodded frantically.

"Ok good....now breathe in and out ok? Just in.....and out. That's it, just really slowly like that. Whatever you do, don't feel embarrassed. It's ok. I can't imagine what you've been through, and whatever it was must've been awful. I am so sorry. But we're all here to help you. Do you need anything? Space? To go back to your room? Do you want to sit on a beach chair?"

Alex took another shaky breath, already feeling exhausted. "I just want to go back to my room, please."

"Of course, you probably need the sleep. Can Bruce bandage your hand while we're there?" Alex nodded again, feeling slightly calmer.

Tony, Bruce, and Natasha walked him back to his room, not talking or being intrusive at all. Which he was grateful for. They had probably done this a million times, maybe with each other, maybe by themselves. He didn't really care at the moment, which sounds a bit mean, but it was true. When they got to Alex's room, he had forgotten how clean it was. It was almost eerie.

Tony remarked about this, to no one in particular. He said he had never seen a teenager's room so clean before, and that made Alex smile, even if it was just a little.

Bruce cleaned up his hand, and Alex was all sorts of out of it. He was tired, in pain, and wanted so desperately to fall asleep and never wake up. Because then he would never have to face their inevitable questions. They would never believe any lie he told anyway. The last thing he remembered was Tony, telling him that everything would be ok before he drifted off to sleep.

His dreams were riddled with old memories, torture victims screaming, people he loved dying, and blood dripping onto the floor. It was his blood, wasn't it?

"Alex? Alex wake up you douche! Wake the fuck up!!" He remembered her eyes filling up with tears. "...please?" Her voice broke, and she started sobbing. "Please!?" She sobbed harder.

Alex's opened his eyes slowly. The all too bright hospital lights bored into his head, and his headache got worse.

"ow....stop yelling..." He mumbled, each syllable making his head feel more like a middle school band room, and less like a place for his brain.

"Oh my god, you're alive!" She whispered, smiling through her tears. "Finally...but are you ok? You took a nasty blow to the head, and it hasn't stopped bleeding."

"I should be fine...although I feel a little dizzy." She was lucky he admitted to feeling dizzy, even though a more accurate description would be very dizzy, extremely nauseous, and his head hurt like a bitch. The lights increased in intensity, and he squinted, his eyes watering from the pain, and it was no easy task to make his eyes water. He felt himself fading from consciousness, and he was out.

Screams erupted throughout the room, and he couldn't stop them. Not anymore. Her blood fell to the floor in torrents, and he could only watch. He tried to break his bonds, he tried to escape. But halfway through he stopped. He didn't struggle, he didn't freak out. He just gave up.

And when Sabrina died, it was almost like he couldn't care less.

Almost.

Hi again!!

Ok so, cutting right to the chase here, this chapter wasn't the greatest (in my opinion of course). As I've said, I have a few ways I want this to go, but I am not sure which way I'm going to choose yet.

In other words, this story doesn't really have a set identity yet so don't judge it too harshly, because it can only get better from here.

Also, I am always striving to be a better writer, and to do that I would love it if you left an honest review of what you think I did well, what you want me to expand upon, what you think I should do better, or what you thought didn't work so well.

Also also, if you think there are ways I could make the panic attack more realistic don't hesitate to comment. I've never written about a panic attack before, and I just wanna make sure I did it respectfully and realistically. If you think something there isn't accurate, or maybe the way Tony handles it isn't right, feedback is welcome.

Anyway, thanks for reading my weird note, and Ily all!! See you soon,

Panic!