Welcome to the Scrapheap

11.

It wasn't a great feeling.

But hey, at least he got his cast off next week! How exciting!

Dry sarcasm seemed to be all the humour he could weakly muster these days.

Oh, his thoughts were feeling especially loud about his arm. It would be weak for probably the rest of his life (what else is new, that applied to more of him than didn't), but more importantly, there would be yet another scar to remind him of the pain.

Another thing to avoid looking at. Another reminder of his worthlessness, his failures, and oh shut it and move away from that thought before it carried on.

He'd been working on his 'denial issue' as Dr May had put it, but it would still hurt to see it. He still felt a deep sense of loss about his leg, but at least he could look at it, and they'd been making slow progress on his facial scar.

It was an ugly thing, and he utterly despised the way it was so prominently displayed. A jagged pale line starting up at his hairline and carving through his eyebrow, before zigzagging millimetres away from the tear duct of his eye and stopping a little ways down his cheek.

A row of knives, glinting hungrily, ready for use. Scarlet pooling at the tip of one already, the rest waiting in a patient row to sear a line in his skin. Gag over his mouth. Staring at the razor tip as it lowers towards his face. Poisonous words stinging his ears as his torturer toys with him, nothing but immobilised prey. Desensitised to the explosion of pain as it digs into his head. Moving towards the eye. Blood filling half his vision, a sudden visceral fear triggering a last desperate struggle. The knife changing direction as he thrashed to keep his sight. The beating that followed, splashing purple across the canvas of agony that had become his skin. Not knowing why he fought back. Not knowing why he hadn't been fighting for so long.

His chest heaved as he tore away from the flashback. He'd lived that one many times in therapy. The fear hadn't dissapated.

He unconsciously traced the raised flesh with a shaky finger and was pleasantly surprised when the flashback didn't repeat.

Right, his cast. It took three days of evaluation before they even decided on the date and they were still constantly checking and testing his arm. The inside of an X-Ray machine was beginning to look very familiar.

He moved it experimentally, the stiff plaster keeping it perfectly straight as he shifted. A twinge of pain leapt along it and he jolted at the sensation even though they had lowered his pain meds weeks ago. A background hum of discomfort from more areas of him than he could count now filled his waking moments. He sort of missed the numbness but it was nice to actually feel things once in a while. It helped a little when he was dissociating. That was something he had quickly learnt to notice.

He noticed that he was clenching his jaw again and wiggled it until the tension loosened.

Alex had been unsure why he was trying so hard. It was getting so tiring, he felt no more will to do anything, and every little step forwards only made him more aware of how long the road was, and most of the steps were followed instantly by a stumble back.

Then he realised- it was all for Jack.

That was the whole and only reason he was still going. He had to be okay for Jack.

He, personally, was uncertain that he could ever actually be okay. He wasn't normal, and that had never been more true than now. He never would be normal again, not with a permanent disability reminding him of what he had been through and what he had lost along the way.

But he had to learn to get well enough to at least convincingly pretend.

For Jack.

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Hello again friends.

Miraculously, I am really freakin proud of this book (and this chapter) so far. I haven't hated any part of it.

This is rare.

I am informing you of this because I have never gotten past chapter 10 without scrapping at least some part of the story- but here we are.

I did my customary read-through-it-all-15-times once I reached this milestone and didn't change anything.

Let me tell you something- it is so much nicer writing fanfic that I am 1, really damn engaged with, and 2, people are actually reading!

Mega thanks for everything (still #2 out of the AR fics! somehow!)

Have a good evening, friends

Disclaimer: you know what? I'm feeling on top of the world rn. I'm declaring myself Emperor Of Alex Rider and nobody can stop me

(other than maybe... the law... n all that... okay maybe I won't do that.)

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