Happy Anniversary.

9. A Trophy Father's Trophy Son.

*NOTE: UPDATES FROM JULY 2014 TO AUGUST 2014 WILL BE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN. I'M GOING ON VACATION, TWO DIFFERENT CAMPS WHERE WIFI WILL NOT BE ACCESSIBLE, AND I HAVE MULTIPLE SUMMER ASSIGNMENTS I NEED TO DO. PLEASE, BE UNDERSTANDING. I WISH I COULD WRITE ALL THE TIME FOR YOU GUYS BUT IT'S JUST NOT POSSIBLE FOR ME AT THE MOMENT. I WILL UPDATE AS MUCH AS I POSSIBLY CAN BUT PLEASE DON'T GET UPSET IF THERE HASN'T BEEN AN UPDATE IN AWHILE. I HAVE NOT ABANDONED MY WORK, I WILL STILL BE WRITING AS MUCH AS I CAN. SORRYSORRYSORRY I LOVE YOU ALL.*

Alex's POV.

I was awake long before anyone realized. Through blurry, squinting eyes, I watched the scene unfold.

"You should probably leave. This isn't something we want everywhere. Let's keep this a secret, yes?" My dad growled to a tall nurse with spiky blond and black hair.

A nurse?

Taking in the bright white room around me, the monotone beeping sound from a heart monitor, and the multiple wires I was attached to, I came to the conclusion I was in the hospital. Why was I here, was my only question.

The nurse nodded quietly and in seconds my mom was slamming the door behind him. "The nerve of people today, sometimes. Ugh." My mother groaned.

"Mrs. Gaskarth?" Why was Rian here? Come to think of it, why was I here? What happened? "I don't mean to be rude, but he did actually save Alex's life."

Neither of my parents responded to that; instead, my dad launched into an ignorant rant that nearly made me jump out of my bed and slap him. "I can't believe he did this to us. We took care of him for nearly eighteen years, and this is the thanks we get?! He's always looking for new ways to get attention. You know what, Isobel? We're not leaving him here. He'll just get all of the attention he wants here. We'll take him home, and we'll 'cure' him of this 'horrible condition'. You know, I thought I was 'depressed' when I was around his age. I tried to tell me parents, and boy did they help. They beat it right out of me, and if it wasn't illegal, we'd be doing the same thing to him!" Even in my sleepy, dazed state I saw my father's face turn bright red in anger and by the end of his speech his was practically spitting his words out. I was surprised he didn't set off their fire alarms from the hot smoke radiating off his head. Depression? Scavenging my brain, bits and pieces of the night came back to me. I remember a large bottle of vodka, and a sharp pocket knife...

Shit. I attempted suicide and I was still alive?

Of course you are, dumbass. You can't even die right. You're just a failure at everything you do. No wonder your parents are trying to get rid of you. Anyone would.

"Guys, calm down." Rian warned softly. Him and my parents always had a good relationship, which was probably why they hadn't kicked him out of the room yet. They thought he was the perfect kid; he was everything they wanted in a son. When Tom died, he became sort of a surrogate son to them. He became the perfect Tom in their eyes, and I was still the fucked up second child. They joke was on them, though, because Rian hated them. He didn't outright say it, but you could tell by the way he always clenched his jaw and the emotion in his eyes disappeared and how his voice went monotone when they were around.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Rian. This is a big deal!" My mom shouted.

"I understand that, but yelling about it and making crazy plans won't help it!" He replied, keeping his voice quiet, calm, and collected. He knew if he raised his voice even a little bit, my parents would never listen to a word he said.

I took that as my cue to wake up before the argument got too carried away. Yawning and making small whining noises, I alerted them to my waking. They stayed quiet as they watched me slowly come back to life and sit up in my bed. Not one of them moved to help me, and I was definitely not on any of their favorites list at the moment, judging by their faces. "What's going on?" I groaned and I rolled and cracked my neck, wincing when the movement induced a nauseating hangover.