Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day Twenty Six

Day Twenty Six. Jack - 1:12

Having woken up in an unknown place after knowing far too well that I'd been in some sort of state of unnatural sleep for over twenty four hours now, I of course just knew that nothing but sedatives were to blame. I lived with my boyfriend, a serial killer, after all.

Fuck, Alex fucking used sedatives like they were cough sweets.

My head hurt like hell and it took me a good few minutes to try and convince myself not to just drift back to sleep and push reality away in favour of dreamland, and the horrors it had on offer for my sadistic pleasure.

This was Alex's fault, fuck. He just didn't make any sense, and quite honestly neither did we, but sometimes the best things in life were destined to mean barely anything, if something at all.

But of course, it wasn't just as simple as waking up and letting myself scream at him, because Alex was clever; when he did something, he did it for a very good reason, and considering that this was Alex we were talking about, his reason really could not be anything remotely good.

He'd used some pretty fucking strong sedatives judging by the difficulty I had getting out of bed, and even when I thought I was securely (or as securely as I was going to get) stood on my two feet, I was stumbling and nearly toppling over with every step, leaving me to wonder just if Alex had been trying to kill me with what he'd dosed me with this time.

However I pushed this idea away, knowing that if Alex wanted me dead even the slightest little bit, I would be long gone by now. Alex just didn't mess around at all - if he wanted something to happen, there wasn't a single doubt that it was going to fucking happen, and most likely within the short term.

And in a weird way, that was reassuring, I guess. The fact that I wasn't dead highlighted one important thing and that was that he wanted me alive, and that was enough to satisfy my horribly narcissistic sense of self worth, something that Alex had been always been trying to warn me of, but of course I was young and naive - not wanting to listen.

The thing about Alex, was although he was driving the two of us into a state of shared insanity - a madness shared by two, he was going about it in such a beautifully enthralling manner that I hadn't time to even assess my sanity before I fell head over heels for him, and despite everything he throws at me, says to me, does to me, I still can't help my loving him, because he's Alex, my Alex, and he makes me feel wanted, he makes me feel special.

I think the fact that the company of a serial killer is the company you would most enjoy is clearly the flashing lights sign for insanity, but they say love is blind, and they're right because I can't see those flashing lights for anything at all.

And perhaps I don't mind that at all.

Now, that's just ignorance, but perhaps right now, in this state of lovestruck blindness, that's irrelevant too. Perhaps this is all just extended and overwhelmingly consuming foolishness, but I just can't seem to accept that, because despite this all, Alex always has and always will be someone special to me.

Sometimes I do wonder about my family at home, but my old life just seems so pathetic, so uneventful compared to the rollercoaster ride I'm on now. There was always just something so dull and unappealing about the nine to five I'd always been destined to live and die with... it was just pointless, you know?

And now Alex had brought me a whole new life of love, reckless fucking fucked up love, war, drugs, sex - wanted and unwanted, and death. And as sick as it sounded - this was the life I wanted. I wanted the danger and the excitement, I wanted the life on the murder scene and nothing could stop me anymore. Okay, perhaps the police, but by now the odds were that everyone reckoned I was dead, and although heartless, I didn't quite mind that.