True Memoirs of A Liar 2: Sacrifice
Author: C Lawson

Chapter 32
Alex's Agony

I woke up and stretched.  My hair was messy so I raked it up into a bun.  Lena woke up when I nudged her a couple of times and she grinned at me.  I gave her a weak smile in return.  I helped her up and we both trudged to the bathroom to wash our faces and get ready for the day.  I was brushing my teeth when it happened.  Lena was drying her face in a towel when it happened.  Samuel had just walked into the room when it happened.  All three of us heard the loudest, most emotional, most heartfelt, most depressing scream of agony.  And, to me, it sounded like it came from about three doors down.  I cringed, and spit out the toothpaste foam, wiping the corners of my mouth with a washcloth.

            I walked to the living room and sat down.  It had to happen sooner or later, I told myself sternly.  Tears that I strictly forbid from falling tumbled down my cheeks anyway and I buried my face in my hands.  Samuel came in and sat down next to me and I cried into his shoulder.  He whispered soft comforting words that didn’t really help.  But it’s the thought that counts sometimes.

            There was suddenly a loud, harsh pounding on the door and I bolted to it.  I flung it open and Alex was standing there, fuming.  Before I could even open my mouth, Samuel whisked me behind him.

            “You cannot speak with her now,” Samuel stated in a stern voice.

            “Move, Samuel.  This has nothing to do with you,” Alex spat, his voice deadly velvet.  My breath caught in my chest.

            “No,” Samuel said calmly. “You cannot speak with her now.” I clung to Samuel’s arm, not really knowing why.  Alex looked past him to see my face and I turned my head, casting my eyes downward.  Samuel slammed the door in his face, locking it securely before turning back to me.  He led me to the sofa and let me sit down.

            “Would you like me to have your breakfast and lunch…and possibly dinner sent up?” Samuel asked aloud.  I didn’t answer.  I just stared off into nowhere, not really seeing anything.  Samuel nodded as if he knew what was happening and called Othello.  Before my ‘room service breakfast’ arrived, Giavonni, who’d switched shifts with Samuel, carried in a piece of paper.

            “From the angry man down the hall,” she announced.  Lena bolted in a snatched the paper.  Her eyes scanned it fervently; she was decoding it in her head.

            “I’ll read it out loud for you, if you want.” I shook my head and held out my hand for it.  My eyes reluctantly trailed to the words that were scribbled on the stationary.

 

Camille,

            No! That’s all I can say without flying into a livid rage! No! No! Do you understand? You’ve come to a decision? Just you? What about me? Us, rather? Do you really think that I will let you do this?

            You love me! And I’m yours! You don’t seem to respond to what I tell you I want and need. So I’m just going to tell you what I know:

            This last letter that you wrote me will not be your last letter to me. You will continue to write me even if you just convince yourself that it’s to argue a point. I am a jealous man. And what’s mine is for me and me alone. What’s mine I keep. You ARE mine, Camille. No matter what you say, do, believe, or think; you belong to me. And I belong to you. I always have. You will come and see me, because you know you think about me every minute I’m not in your sight. I know it because the exact same thing happens to me every time you walk out of the room.

            That is what I know. All of it is true. Every sentence. It’s facts and facts that you are going to either deal with or, if you’d like, come confront me about. My door is always open; so are my arms. Come see me, Bright Eyes. We’ve got unfinished business.

                                                                        Only yours,

                                                                                    Alex

            I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even figure out how I felt. I refused to sit down and curl up like a baby to let this situation swallow me. All evidence to the contrary. I was curled up on my bed in the fetal position, hugging my knees to my chest. My bottom lip quivered every now and then, my heart shakily beating out a rhythm I couldn’t get used to. I felt horribly empty. I wondered what Alex was doing, how he was feeling.

            For, what, the gagillionth time that night?

            I stood, walking past Joseph. “Where do you think you’re going?” I gave him a look, the darkest one I could manage. He sunk back down in his chair. I trudged out of my room and down three doors. I stood in front of Alex’s door uncertainly. Maybe I should just knock. Then we could just talk. I shook my head. Wrong answer.

            I knocked anyway.

 

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