Alix sat quietly on her couch, her legs hanging limply over the edge, her toes grazing the carpet lightly. For one reason or another, her first stop coming into the room had been the couch. She had originally planned on watching television, but the moment she hit the couch her mind vacated and she stared mindlessly at the blank screen, her arms and legs limp with apathy. She stared at the screen for a few more moments, then pulled her legs up on the couch and leaned over, her head on the armrest of the couch.
She felt sick and...something. Something hadn‘t felt in a long time and did not like to feel. Combined with sick, it was almost too much. She lay in silence for a for moment before the feeling overwhelmed her and she found herself sprinting into the bathroom and looking down into her toilet bowl, coughing and sputtering. She grasped the side of the bowl until her fingers were a ghostly white. After a few moments, she let go of the bowl and swallowed hard, pressing her palms to her forehead. She knew what this feeling was. It was humiliation.
She felt another emotion sweep over her, but she was well aware of this one. She stood up quickly and another wave of nausea nearly overcame her, but she suppressed it. She then proceeded to pick up and throw a large container of liquid soap, in a fragile crystal bottle, against the wall. The glass screamed along with Alix as it shattered and rained on the floor, the soap crawling down the wall. She turned quickly to her right and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes and face were stained with eyeliner and red with fury; she looked horrible. Horrible and humiliated.
Alix picked up a heavy, glass candle holder and threw it, with all of her might, against the mirror. It smashed into a thousand tiny pieces, littering and mixing with the other glass around Alix’s feet. This was how she would deal. She would hide her humiliation with anger, if that’s what it took.
As she stared at the blank wall of her bathroom, outlined by what use to be a mirror frame, she felt her anger subside and was once again overcome with apathy. Subconsciously, she turned on the knobs for her shower. The water was heated immediately and Alix felt the mist burning against her face. She slipped her hands, crossed, under the loose straps of her thin-strapped shirt and pushed them over her shoulders. As they began to fall, she self-consciously grabbed onto them, before letting out a soft sigh and continuing to disrobe, albeit slowly.
The mist from the shower had filled the room like a fog. Alix felt soft little pricks on the bottom of her feet as she walked across the broken glass and stepped into the shower. It was a gorgeous bath, but almost too large for her; she figured she could have shoved another three or four people in here easily, if she had wanted to. The shower itself, however, was almost like a waterfall and a summer rain together. From one wall gushed water so plentifully that Alix’s feet were always slightly submerged; from the ceiling water gently fell, in an amount too little to be used alone. They complimented nicely, and Alix had wondered who would think of such a thing; however aesthetically pleasing, it was unnecessary. She would be just as content with one spout.
Alix ran her hands through her hair to soak it, feeling the waterfall run down her back, scorching. Alix stared down at her hands and, without thinking, grabbed a sponge and began scrubbing underneath her fingernails. She only realized what she was doing when she reached her wrists. They were swollen and red from being gripped so tightly by such unusually strong hands, and the soft sponge felt like steel wool.
“Get the hell off of me.” Alix said through clenched teeth, though it was hardly intimidating nor convincing. She at least had to try.
Eric narrowed his eyes and grabbed both of her wrists harshly, pulling both arms over her head. He held them tightly, and she could feel his blunt fingernails biting into the soft underbelly of her forearms. She let out a small noise of protest, involuntarily.
“Or what Alix?” he replied simply. It was an unimaginative answer, yes, but also one she could not answer. Because she would have to say nothing.
She turned her head to the side and he let out a small laugh, then began tracing kisses down her jawbone. “You know, Alix, I don’t mean to be so harsh, but you make me sometimes.”
“I don’t make you do anything.” she spat.
He smiled and nodded his head, agreeing. “I know.”
She snapped out of her unpleasant reverie and bit her lip nervously. She then, hesitantly, pressed her wrists underneath the burning water. Her raw skin felt as if it was on fire and she had to force herself to keep them under there as long as she did. When she pulled them back they were even redder than before, if it was possible. The swelling hadn’t really changed, but when she pressed lightly on her skin she felt a tingling, numb sensation quickly replaced by a sharp, stabbing pain. She smiled, despite. Eric had told her cold water would dull the pain and ease the swelling. Forget dulling. I’ll burn you off of me, you bastard..
Alix stood motionless for a while, then, as if someone had flipped a switch, she shuddered and realized how very hot the water was, so turned the dial down to cold, the water running over her wrists. She felt her wrists one more and, sure enough, they did not hurt nearly as bad; whether it was the initial numbness of the cold or actual healing she was not sure. She cursed silently.
Alix sighed heavily and shut the water off, not in the mood anymore. She stepped out and, leaving small, damp footprints, walked over and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself. She walked out, zombie-like, into the front room and to her bedroom, still dripping wet. Her bed was stunning; God knows how many count sheets and a comforter she absolutely adored, all in a beautiful creamy gold color. Now, however, none of that really mattered to her, so she sat down, still dripping wet, onto the edge of her bed, soaking the beautiful fabric.
She shivered, from either the cold or her th0ughts. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Eric; not usually, anyways. She was angry. She had a right to be angry, didn’t she? Of course, it wasn’t as if this was an unnatural occurrence, the actual act, Alix thought grimly. But when he felt it was right to embarrass her like he had, she couldn’t stand it
Her wardrobe glared at her, and as she stared she remembered Eric mentioning, as he practically kicked her out, that he would be down soon. Soon for Eric wasn’t soon for most people, but it did mean tonight and by no means would she be caught like this. She didn’t even want to think about that.
She stood up quickly and rummaged through her clothing before finding a pair of black slacks and a white top, which ruffled slightly. She quickly put on her clothes, now paranoid that Eric would walk in on her in some form of undress. Alix ran over to her dresser and pulled out a brush and hair tie. She pulled the brush roughly through her still damp tresses, slicking back her jet black hair into a sleek, low ponytail. She inhaled deeply.
Eric sat in a chair across the room from Alix, lazily smoking a cigarette and staring out at the magnificent view from his top story suite. He had previously told her to leave, then left the room himself. Alix, however, simply stayed on the couch where she had been this whole time. Eric had walked back into the room a few minutes later, a cigarette and lighter in his hand. Not even bothering to look at the couch, he sat down, lighting the cigarette and staring.
Alix stayed quiet. Not out of fear, really, but she had nothing to say to him. She didn’t want to talk to him, she didn’t even want to see him. Why she had stayed in his house she wasn’t sure.
Eric turned slowly and blew smoke in her direction, making little rings as they floated over to her. She smelled the smoke and grimaced slightly.
“If you don’t like it, leave. I already told you to anyways.” Eric said coldly.
“You taste like smoke.” she said, a disgusted tone in her voice.
Eric laughed and took another long drag. “Good.”
Alix looked up from the top of the dresser into the mirror in front of her. Her eyes were still slightly bloodshot, the circles under her eyes prominent. She grabbed a small bag on the dresser and poured out the contents. Dozens upon dozens of tubes and cases and bottles and compacts of makeup fell out, and she scrambled to find what she wanted and, at a furious pace, began applying it. She tried to convince herself that this was because she never looked disheveled in front of anyone, but she had a hard time getting the notion out of her head that she was doing this so Eric wouldn’t see what he had done. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction.
Alix stared at herself again and, pleased, walked out of her bedroom and into the front room. She barely had time to do anything before she picked up the slightest hint of smoke. She spun around to her doorway and found herself facing Eric. She walked over to him and grabbed the cigarette out of his hand, throwing it into the small garbage can. He then promptly blew smoke in her face. She stared for a moment, then slapped him, hard.
“I told you never to smoke up here.” Alix growled.
“Alix, please.” Eric said. He paused, then continued. “You‘re angry, and I don‘t know why.”
Alix stared at him, trying to mask her disbelief and confusion. She began to think he wasn‘t exactly sure what he did was hurtful. And as long as Alix had something to do with it, he wouldn‘t. “You could at least ask.” she replied coolly.
“Come on, Alix. Are you saying I hurt you?” he asked, using the word like a curse.
Alix was hesitant to answer. “No. I’m just saying you should at least show me the decency --”
As if he had totally disregarded what she had said, he had walked over to her until he was uncomfortably close. He grabbed one of her hands roughly and pressed it against his back. He stared at her, and she knew what he meant. She slid her hand up the back of his shirt. She wasn’t sure what she was being forced to do until it was too late. Her hand faltered as she felt the small cuts littered across his back, in all directions. She remembered, briefly, her fervent, subconscious scrubbing to get whatever it was from under her fingernails. This was what it was. She pulled her hand out and stared at it. Little red streaks were across her fingers; dried blood. She was silent.
“I hurt you, now did I?” he said, and a smile spread across his face. “Then I suppose that was self defense, right?”
Alix fumed inside, as Eric had succeeded in making her feel very small once again.
“I understand though. I need to take better care of the things I own.” Eric murmured, and slung his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to bury her face in his chest.
Alix was very quiet, fearing what she would say if she opened her mouth.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I can’t h--
Alix closed her eyes; he smelled like ashes.
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(no one is supposed to notice that anything has changed on the cast page. no one...)
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Sure, Liz... Sure.
Posted by Rob @ 10/02/2003 12:18 AM CST
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