Memories of Before

Forgotten Feelings

Chapter Four - Forgotten Feelings

Tired of waiting for Alex to say something, I turn around and sit up onto my knees. I lean over and reach inbetween some of the tree roots and pull out small razor blade. I sit back down, keep my back to Alex. Suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist. I wince, partially because of the force, and because of the cuts that are still fresh. He realizes what he did and loosens his grip, but doesn't let go completely. I try to pull away, but instead he grabs my other hand. What is with him and doing the opposite of what I want him to do? He looks at me, causing me to drop my head and stare at my knees. I weakly try one last time to pull away. I just want to be alone, leave me alone. A tear silently falls down my cheek, and drops onto my jeans, forming a little wet circle. Alex notices and removes his hand from my left wrist. He lifts my face up again to look at him.

"Why?" he asks suddenly. I shake my head as tears start to fall uncontrolably. I drop the razor that I didn't realize I was still holding. It falls to the groud with a quiet thud. Why, why, I don't know. Why they had to die. Why I didn't. Why my life is so miserable. I start to quietly sob. Alex's hands fall away and the world starts to spin. Why. I feel my emotional walls start to crumble and crack. I have tried to hold them in, to hide from my real feelings. Strong warm arms wrap around me, pulling me in. I am to exhausted to move so I let him hold me. Slowly, the world starts to melt away as I finally fall asleep. Right before I sleep I hear Alex mumble something I probably wasn't supposed to hear. Something I have never heard before. "Whats your story Elizabeth?" I finally pass out.

...

I wake up in a strange bed, wrapped up in thick blankets. I clear my eyes and look around. To my right, there is a table with a lamp and a clock, which reads 10:47. This is the latest I have slept in in a while. I hear water running behind the closed door across the room, that I am assuming is a bathroom. I lay in bed for atleast another five minutes, trying to figure out how I got here. Suddenly I hear a big crash come from the bathroom and then a string of cursing following. Seconds later, the door swings open an angry Alex marches out of the bathroom in only a pair of sweat pants. He is holding his arm and blood is dripping from his palm. I sit up and jump out of bed. Alex has his back to me and is rummaging through one of his drawers. I walk over to him and put my hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. He stops what he is doing and turns around.

"Oh hey Eli. Sorry about that," he says. I don't respond, instead I look at his palm and see that blood has started to pool in his hand. I take his wrist gently and drag him back into the bathroom. Glass is all over the right side of the counter, and even more is on the floor. I look at him and give him a 'you can't be serious' look. I stand infront of him so he is behind me. I move his bloody hand under the faucet and turn the water on. He tenses and grabs my waist and squeezes without thinking. This make me tense and he realizes what he did.

"OMG! Sorry, I didn't mean to!" he starts to freak out. I shake my head, dissmissing his ridiculous apology and focus back on his hand. I bend down and open the cabinent under the sink. I find a bandage, a roll of papertowels, and some rubbing alcohol. I stand back up and take a closer look at his hand. He still has glass in the cut, great. I look around the counter for tweezers, with no success. I guess I will just need to pull it out myself. It's large enough that I should be able to just pull it out. I reach down and grab the peice stuck in his hand. For a brief second, I glance up at Alex in the mirror. His eyes are squeezed shut. He is such a baby. When I pull the peice of glass out, the bleeding starts to slow. That's better. I reach for the alcohol and the paper towels. This will probably hurt, but I don't even want to know what he cut his hand on. Putting alcohol on the paper towel I take his wrist again and rub it with my thumb, as a warning for what is to come. He visibly relaxes at my small gesture, which is stupid because I just wanted to prevent being smacked in the face at his suprise. I place the towel on his cut and apply pressure, all things my mom did for me when I would hurt myself. Mom - no I will not let myself think of her, not now! A single tear falls from my eye as I remove the towel and wrap his hand with a bandage. Finished, I bend down and put the bottle and the towels under the counter again.

I turn to him and point at the bedroom, telling him to get out. For once, he listen and leaves, but not before mumbling a small, "Thank you." I close the door behind him. Then I break down. Tears start to fall uncontrollably. Why was I so compelled to help him. He didn't need it. Why do I think of my mom when all I am doing is wrapping a bandage. I crumple to the floor and sob. After a few minutes, I sit up and grab the dust pan I had seen under the sink. I start to sweep up the glass. There is so much glass, its everywhere. What the heck did he even break? I finally finish cleaning it up and dump the glass into the trash. I slide down the wall, when I feel a sharp pain in my right hand. A small peice of glass was left on the floor. I pull it out and emotionlessly hold my hand up and watch the blood fall trickle down. Tears start to fall again. I curl up on the ground and watch my hand bleed. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door. "Eli, are you okay? You've been in there a long time," Alex asks. I don't answer. "Eli!" he says. The door swings open and he comes in. He stops and looks at me with a puzzled expression. Then he realizes my hand. There isn't a lot of blood, but he still still looks alarmed. "Eli, what are you doing!" he says. I don't move. I'm still crying and I must look really stupid, but I dont care. He bends down and wipes the tears from my face. Suddenly, he scoops me up of the ground and walks out of the bathroom with me in his arms. I try to get out of his grasp. Stop touching me, go away, I silently plead. Alex sits me on the bed and grabs a tissue, wiping the blood off my hand. He pulls a bandaid out of the bedside table drawer and wraps it around my cut. I have finally stopped crying. Taking a shaky breath I look at Alex. On his right shoulder is my bloody handprint, from when I tried to get away from him. He looks down and chuckles, "of all the times I have picked up girls, I have never gotten a bloody handprint from one. Only you Eli."
He did not just say that.