Addiction

by - 2:09 PM



            The music was all she could hear. It flowed through her, lending a wonder and majesty that took her breath away. Back and forth she swayed, eyes closed, floating like a bird on airs of rising song. Slowly . . . slowly, the music rolled and soared to its conclusion, the last chords drifting into an echoing stillness. There was silence, for a moment, before hundreds of spectators exploded into a deafening roar of applause. High in the balcony, Alexa leaned back, too thrilled even to clap, the brilliant smile on her face saying it all.
“So, Lexy,” Dad said, nudging her with an elbow, “How’d you like it?”
“So much,” she breathed, “So much I can’t even-“ spinning to the side Alexa threw her arms around Dad, hugging him as tight as she could.
“Thank you,” she said, “This has been the best birthday ever.”
“It’s not over yet!” a little voice piped from the other side of Dad. Alexa straightened from the hug, a quizzical smile cocked across her face as she watched her little brother, Isaac, painstakingly maneuver his tiny wheel-chair in front of her.
“For the best sister in the world,” he said, transferring a purple-wrapped package from his lap to hers.
Alexa blushed. Grinning, she carefully unwrapped the velvety tissue. The grin vanished behind an expression of utter amazement. Lightly, her fingers brushed across an album-cover of sparkling purple and gold.
“Is this . . ?” she whispered, hesitantly pushing the wrapping back to see clearer.
“Yup!” Isaac said, wiggling happily in his seat, “I knew you would love the music, so Mommy and Daddy let me get it for you!”
“Because Isaac knows you best,” Mom said, stooping behind Alexa to wrap her in a hug.
“Thank you,” Alexa managed to choke, before reaching up to scrub the tears from her eyes.
“Look at that! Little Lexy getting all weepy over a bunch of songs!” her older brother John teased.
“It’s OK, Lexy,” Isaac said softly, leaning forward, “I understand.”
A hiccup-sob-laugh jostled the precious gift. “I know, Isaac,” she whispered, smiling, “I know.”
~ ~ ~
Alexa had always been a cheery, warm-hearted, full-of-life person, but something about the music made her even more so. Every hour of the day she listened to the music, sharing an ear-bud with Isaac whenever possible so they could roar out the lyrics together. Before, they had been very close. Now they grew closer still.
She took the music with her everywhere: into bed, out of bed, to the bathroom, on the bus, into school, out of it again, to track, while doing chores, when riding, playing ball, bird-watching with Isaac, or just sitting in the living room reading with the rest of her family. Wherever Alexa was, there was the music, and she eagerly shared it with everyone.
Humming during chores, whistling while walking, singing in the shower and crooning to her horse, Lindsey, had never been so wonderful. The more she listened, the more she sang, and the more she sang the happier she grew.
Then, one day, when Alexa came home from school, she was not happy. At the front door Isaac met her, like every other day, but when he saw her, his smile disappeared. Her face was drawn and eyes and nose were red as if she had been crying. He asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t respond. Darting past him she ran to her room and shut the door. That night she wouldn’t eat supper and the next morning she was too sick to go to school.
For the next few days, the only person Alexa let into her room was Mom, and even then she didn’t say anything. Only lay in bed with her eyes closed, ear-buds in and music turned on high. Day after day, Isaac would sit in his wheelchair either just outside her door, or in his room down the hall, waiting for Alexa’s door to open. But Alexa never came out, and even Mom couldn’t convince her to let him come in.
A week later, Alexa went back to school. Her friends asked her if she was all right, but she would only reply ‘I’m fine’ before putting her ear-buds in and walking away. Slowly the sickness grew worse as Alexa increasingly drowned out her world in the music. She stopped sharing with Isaac and, one by one, lost most of her friends. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. When Alexa came home from school, she wouldn’t play games with Isaac anymore. Instead, she went to her room, shut the door, and listened to her music. If anyone interrupted her, she became angry and nothing anyone said or did could bring her out of her shell.
Slowly, the time she and Isaac spent together narrowed until it disappeared. No more bird-watching, no more walks in the park, no more games, no more music . . . no more smiles.
During this time, her emotions and reactions became strange. Some days, she would be almost cheerful again – but it was in a wild, desperate sort of way. Others, she was bitter and sarcastic. There were days, however, wherein she was just sad. She would sit in her room for hours, crying. Not a question would she answer, and though she accepted all kindness with grateful tears, her family could not discover the cause of her sorrow. Often, during these episodes, Isaac would sit next to her bed, just holding her hand like she used to do when he was sick, and whispering to her that everything would be all right. He would tell her that he wanted to help, and that she could trust him, and that she wasn’t alone, but whatever had happened that day at school remained in Alexa’s memory alone. If she had shared, maybe it would have been easier to bear. Many times she did seem about to tell him something, but every time she stopped herself and returned to her shell. Most common, however, were the days that she was simply angry.
One day, Isaac went into her room while she was lying in bed listening to her music, and asked her if they could play a game. She didn’t answer, so he asked again. And again. Finally, he reached over and gently tugged one of her ear-buds out. Instantly Alexa sat up, ripped the ear-bud out of his hand and yelled at him to go away. He didn’t move but sat there with his eyes down and whispered that he had just wanted to play a game. He asked if she would stop listening to the music for just a little while and play with him. Alexa shouted at him to stop being a selfish brat and angrily ordered him to leave her alone. The look of rage in her eyes terrified Isaac as he carefully eased his wheelchair out of the room.
Later that afternoon, Mom found him sitting in a corner crying.
~ ~ ~
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mom whispered, kneeling next to the little boy’s chair. Isaac sniffled, wiped a hand under his nose and gave a shaky sigh.
“Mommy,” he whispered after a long pause, “When will Lexy be back?”
A confused smile crinkled Mom’s eyes as she cocked her head to one side.
“She’ll be down for supper. At least,” she said and leaning forward, lowered her voice to a secretive whisper, “That’s what we hope.” And gave a little wink.
Isaac shook his head, forlorn expression unchanged by the tease, “No, Mommy, I mean the real Lexy.”
Mom frowned and covered Isaac’s small hand with her own, “Isaac, why do you say that?”
“’Cause,” he said, but the words caught in his throat. With a little cough, he tried again, “’Cause the real Lexy used to love me and . . .” his voice lowered to a whisper, “And I don’t think she does anymore.” Again his eyes filled with tears which trickled, softly, down his face.
“Oh, baby,” Mom said, leaning forward and pulling him into a hug. He buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed softly. After a little while his muffled voice murmured, between sobs,
“I miss . . . Lexy.”
~ ~ ~
After this, Mom spoke to Dad and they agreed that both needed to have a talk with Alexa. So a few nights later she was called into the living room and seated between them on the sofa. At first, it seemed as if she understood and was sorry for upsetting Isaac, but when the talk turned to her music, Alexa became as cold and impassive as stone. Mom talked, then Dad talked, then they both talked, and after half an hour of them trying to explain that they were afraid this music was only hurting her, Alexa interrupted:
‘Are you done yet?’ she said.
A stunned silence ensued, broken only when Alexa took her ear-phones out of her pocket, plugged them into her phone and hit play. Standing she said, without even glancing their way, ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ and walked out of the room.
Neither parent knew what to do so that, over the weeks and months that followed, many attempts were made to talk Alexa out of her obsession, none of which did any good. One day, after another episode of Isaac trying to pull his sister out of her shell and his being lashed out against for it, John took Alexa to task, giving her a long, stern lecture. It used to be that whenever John was concerned about something enough to be serious about it, Alexa would listen. But not anymore. Half the time she just lay in her bed, ear-plugs in and music on low. The other half she simply stared, blankly, into John’s dark-brown eyes, as if looking for something she had lost there. Finally, John gave up, leaving her to the music.
A once immaculate room, covered with colorful decorations and vibrant art-work, disappeared beneath the clutter of neglect. A once song-filled house became almost as silent as death and no one, except Isaac, cared for music anymore. A once beautiful flower-garden withered to nothing, save for a small, bright patch of daisies, neither too big nor too small, which the faithful Isaac kept alive. For, he said “When Lexy comes back she’ll be sad of all her flowers are gone, so I’m gonna keep some of them up for her.”
Worst of all, a once happy family, filled with laughter and life, was over-shadowed by the ever-present cloud of Alexa’s anti-presence. It was as if she were still there with them, but only just barely, and barely enough that it hurt more to think of her up in her bedroom than had she been buried in the earth. No one actually thought these things, but they felt them, and feeling them ached for every moment Alexa spent, drowning herself under waves of numbing music.
She didn’t care about food anymore and neither did she truly smile. The last time Isaac remembered her smiling was that day she lost her phone and, after a desperate search, he found it for her. But she did not smile at him. Snatching the precious device from his little hands she grinned greedily down at it. Then, with nothing more than a mumbled ‘thanks,’ once again secluded herself in her room.
The school year ended and with it came John’s graduation day. Into Alexa’s room Mom went and asked if she would come with them to the graduation ceremony. Alexa only glanced her way, glanced down at the phone in her hands, and closed her eyes. By this time, Mom knew that such a gesture meant: ‘No. Now leave me alone’ and realized that nothing she said would change her daughter’s mind. With a sigh, Mom closed the bedroom door. Just as the rest of the family was about to leave, Isaac stopped and asked if anyone had told Lexy. Mom said that, yes she had, but Alexa didn’t want to come. A short pause went by with every person lost in their own gloomy thoughts. Then Isaac spoke:
~ ~ ~
“Lexy shouldn’t be alone,” the small voice said, softly, “I’m gonna stay and keep her company.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a glance then kneeling beside the little chair, Dad asked, “You sure about that, kiddo?”
Isaac nodded, straightening and putting his chin up, “Lexy needs me. That is,” and pausing, he looked up at John, “If John doesn’t mind?”
“Me?” John replied, shaking his head with a forced smile, “Naw, squirt, I’m good. Besides, no one could take better care of Lexy than you.”
“I know,” Isaac said, solemnly.
So it was decided, and five minutes later, Mom, Dad and John had driven away in the old blue car. Watching from the living room window, Isaac felt a small flicker of remorse, but quickly snuffed it.
“Lexy needs me,” he said to himself and backing his chair up, went to check on her in her room.
“Lexy?” he whispered, cracking the door open. No response. A little wider and Isaac managed to squeeze his chair through. Rolling up to Alexa’s bed he paused, then timidly reached out one hand.
“Lexy,” he whispered, tapping her on the shoulder, “Lexy, wake up.”
Alexa moaned and mumbled, “Go away,” before rolling over with her back to Isaac.
“OK,” Isaac said, trying to sound cheery, though his heart sank. Sadly, he rolled out of the room.
The minutes ticked slowly by. Before the glass double-doors Isaac sat, binoculars in hand, watching the birds outside. Suddenly, less than three feet away, a blue-jay landed on the lawn.
“Lexy’s favorite,” Isaac whispered, eyes wide. Slowly he inched backwards then as soon as a wall came between him and the windows, made a beeline for Alexa’s bedroom.
“Lexy, Lexy,” he shouted-whispered, rolling in, “Lexy, there’s a blue-jay! Oh, Lexy, wake up before he leaves!” eagerly he tapped her shoulder.
“Mmmh, what?” Alexa groaned, rolling over and squinting at him through strands of tangled hair.
“A blue-jay, Lexy!” he shouted-whispered again.
“Uhuh, that’s nice,” she replied and turned away again.
Silence reigned. After a long pause, Isaac murmured, “You mean . . . you don’t wanna see him?”
Alexa did not respond. Isaac rolled from the room.
Sitting in his own bedroom ten minutes later, Isaac hugged the bright-green bear that, years ago, he and Lexy had lovingly named Stuffles.
“I wish Lexy would come back,” he whispered into the fluffy fur, “Don’t you, Stuffles?” Pressing his face even deeper into the plush head, he murmured, “I know you do.”
Turning the bear around to face him, Isaac looked into its shiny button eyes, “There’s gotta be some way! But Lexy always loved blue-jays, and now she doesn’t. Maybe . . .” and he paused, his little eyebrows knitting together, “Maybe if I try a little harder. Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough. Stuffles?” he continued, his face turning sad, “I know it’s my fault Lexy left us. I thought the music would make her happy, and it did! But . . . but now it’s taken her away,” tears formed in the little bright eyes, “I wish it had never happened. I’m sorry I made Lexy go away.”
The toy seemed to smile sadly and Isaac knew it was sorry too. Fiercely he hugged the soft green bear and after a quiet, teary pause, whispered in its ear, “It’s OK, Stuffles, we’ll figure something out.”
Twenty minutes later: “Lexy? Lexy, please wake up.” Isaac whispered, softly.
“What do you want?” Alexa’s irritated voice came from beneath the covers.
Uncertainly, Isaac paused, then gripping the green bear even tighter, reminded himself to be brave.
“Lexy, me and Stuffles wish you would play a game with us!” he said, and jiggled the box of JENGA blocks in his lap.
“No,” Alexa growled, “Now go away.”
“O-OK,” Isaac replied, swallowing the threatening tears, “Maybe later.” And he rolled from the room.
Ten silent minutes later, he was back again. Sitting beside Alexa’s bed, he sang softly, “Rhyme me a rhyme – Oh my Lexy is pretty!” and waited.
It was their game – the one Lexy had made up for him when he was too sick to get out of bed. Every day they would sit, side by side, and make up rhymes together. Now, Isaac waited for Alexa to reply with something like “Riddle oh tittle – but Isaac is witty” or “Songs for the singin’ – now hear this my ditty” but she didn’t.
“Lexy?” he whispered, trying not to cry, “Please?”
Alexa did not respond. After a long silence, Isaac said softly, “Lexy . . . Stuffles misses you,” and rolled away.
Out in the living room Isaac sat with his bear, binoculars and box of JENGA blocks. Slowly the minutes ticked by: 11:15, 11:45, 12:00. At 12:30, Isaac came out of his sad reflections and saw the time.
“Now we can make lunch together,” he said eagerly, before setting out, once more, for Alexa’s bedroom.
“Lexy, we’re hungry,” he whispered to the covers.
“Then go eat,” came the snarled reply.
“Um, Lexy,” he said, scrambling, “I – I can’t reach th – the jelly! Will you help me?”
A long silence was finally broken by Alexa’s sharp “No.”
“Oh,” Isaac said, scared to ask more, “OK.” And he rolled from the room.
A peanut-butter sandwich with honey and bananas made-up his and Stuffles’ lunch. Usually Isaac would have enjoyed it, but without Lexy beside him, it tasted like cardboard.
“Stuffles,” he said, contemplatively, after they were done eating, “Why doesn’t Lexy like to eat anymore?” the bear didn’t reply, so Isaac went on, “I mean, she’s never hungry and won’t eat anything but crackers and chips . . .” suddenly, his eyes widened, “Stuffles,” he whispered, “Do you – do you think Lexy won’t eat ‘cause the music is starving her? Or! Or maybe the music is so bad because she won’t eat!” a pause, then Isaac straightened abruptly in his chair, “She’s gonna starve, Stuffles. And people that starve they . . . they die! I can’t let Lexy starve.” Quickly he wheeled from the room.
“Lexy,” he shout-whispered, tapping her shoulder, “Lexy, are you hungry?”
“No,” she groaned.
“But Lexy, you should be! It’s past lunch-time,” he said, insistently.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
“Lexy, please,” he replied, “Please, Lexy, you need to be hungry, or the music’s gonna kill you! It’s-“
Alexa jerked, “SHUT UP AND GO AWAY!” she screamed.
Trembling, Isaac wheeled slowly backwards, out of the room. In the door-way he sat, staring at the pile of blankets and mass of deep-brown hair drooling out of them.
“I can’t let Lexy starve,” he whispered, shaking his head and forcing back tears, “I can’t! She needs me . . .”
“Lexy,” he called, quietly, “Can I make you some food?”
Alexa didn’t respond. With a sniff and quick blink to clear his sight, Isaac backed his chair around and headed purposefully to the kitchen.
“I’ll make you some mac’n’cheese. You love mac’n’cheese,” he said.
~ ~ ~
She’d lost something. That horrible day she didn’t dare think about, she’d lost something she could ever get back. Like and infected wound her silence and shame that caused it had festered, the pain of it dragging her down into darkness. If only she could escape! Could she? Could she really . . . say it? No, Alexa had already asked herself that. It wouldn’t be worth it. She didn’t care about anything anymore. But it hurt to not care, so she numbed her hurt beneath the music.
This aching emptiness wasn’t the only hurt she used her music to numb. There was another – but she wouldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t think at all. Just listen and let the music pull her away from reality. The lyrics used to be hopeful – if slightly crazy and defiant. Now, they only communicated despair. Life meant nothing to her now, but since death meant less and she couldn’t take her music there, she stayed alive. Whenever Alexa wondered about death, she realized that now, like never before, she was terrified by the thought of it. She didn’t want to die – but she didn’t care to live either.
It was all so empty, but the music made it a nice kind of emptiness. At least she could lose herself, forget who she was. Forget everything. Nothing mattered. Everything was only important as it affected the music. If it gave the music, it was her friend. If it took the music it was her foe.
But the music couldn’t hide all of her hurt, nor could it mask everything from the outside world. There were still people out there – annoying, cruel, frustrating things that would take her music away! Didn’t they understand?! She would die without it . . . she knew she would. What did they care? They didn’t love the music, so she wouldn’t love them. Alexa tried to forget everything, crushing it under the numbing nothingness of the music. Not songs anymore – just noise: noise to fill the emptiness; noise to drown her thoughts; noise to make the world leave her alone.
Sometimes other noises broke into her delirium, shattering the music’s protective cover and pouring the acid of reality all over her already raw mind. The pain made her angry and she lashed out like an animal, protecting itself and it’s treasure from harm. If they really loved her – like the people out there said – they would leave her alone to her music. This was not always the case.
Especially not today. That smaller, pestering thing – she knew his name was Isaac and that he was her little brother who she really did love; but she also knew that if she thought this, the music wouldn’t be able to drown out the pain that followed. Must not think.
“Burn, let it burn, let it burn, burn, burn,” the lyrics chanted, “Then let it turn, let it turn, let it turn into your power.”
Yes, burn them all. Burn the memories. Burn the people. Burn the past. Burn, burn, burn . . .
Then he was back. That little, insistent, painful voice. Painful, because she knew he was right and being right, was good. But she wasn’t interested in right anymore. All she wanted was to burn it all away.
She ignored it – the voice – but it did not leave. It got louder, faster, more insistent. She wanted to strangle it. Louder and louder. Higher and higher. Piercing through the music, it screamed:
“Lexy, help!”
Go away, go away. Her mind groaned.
Then it happened.
~ ~ ~
He didn’t mean to. Really! He didn’t mean to, and he was sorry, but everything had happened so fast, he hadn’t been able to stop it. And now, as the flames crept up the kitchen towel, spreading to the oak-wood cabinets, Isaac knew he needed help. Now.
A few half-spilled bowlfuls of water did nothing against the crackling flames, especially since he couldn’t get close enough to really throw the water right on it. He couldn’t do anything, except get help.
Quickly, he turned his chair around, pushing the wheels so hard his thin arms ached. As fast as he could, he rolled to Alexa’s bedroom. She would help him – she had to!
“Lexy!” he cried, bumping hard against her bedside, “Lexy, wake up! Lexy I need your help, please!”
He could hear the flames growing louder now. Reaching out a hand, he seized Alexa’s arm, shaking her.
“Lexy, please! Lexy, you need to help me!” he cried, tears stinging his eyes as he struggled to arouse his older sister.
Something in the background crashed. Isaac started, glancing over his shoulder, expecting to see a glimmer of orange flames creep around the corner. But there was nothing – yet.
“Lexy!” he sobbed, “Wake up – I need you, Lexy.”
She stirred, groaned, but did not open her eyes. Out from under the covers, her head-phone cord peeked. And Isaac had an idea.
“But she will hate me,” he whimpered to himself, glancing down at the green bear in his lap.
“If she saves you, she saves herself too,” the shiny black eyes seemed to say. Slowly, Isaac nodded.
Hesitantly and hardly daring to breathe, he reached, lightly taking the cord in his hand. A deep breath, and he very gently pulled the bud out of Alexa’s ear.
Instantly, she was awake.
“What is wrong with you?!” she screamed, eyes wide and angry.
“I need help,” Isaac whimpered, eyes wide with terror under his sister’s wrathful gaze, “Please, Lexy, I need you to help me.”
“Get out of my room!” she shouted, snatching the headphone from his hand.
“No, Lexy! Please, you have to listen!” Isaac gasped.
“Yes, that’s right,” she snarled, throwing the covers off herself, “I have to listen to my music.”
“No! No, Lexy,” Isaac replied, shaking his head, “No, I need your help. The kitchen . . . I – I . . .”
But she would not listen. Jumping out of bed, she grabbed the handles of his wheel-chair, rolling him forcefully out of her room.
They stopped abruptly in the hall, Isaac jerking forward at the sudden stand-still. Releasing the wheel-chair, Alexa turned, about to go into her room.
“Lindsey’s free!” Isaac exclaimed, struggling to turn his wheelchair. Alexa froze. It was their code – whenever either of them needed help, they would say Lindsey’s free and know that the other would listen.
Finally, Isaac managed to turn his wheel-chair around to face Alexa. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Lexy,” he whispered, eyes widening as her hand strayed to the door-knob, “Lexy, please don’t leave me,” tears stung his eyes and clouded his vision. He reached both his hands, just like when he was little and wanted a hug, “Lexy, I need you,” he sobbed.
And in that moment, Isaac saw Lexy come back. Her eyes softened, turning misty, as she bent forward to meet his embrace. But a ripple of sound shattered the moment.
“Oooh, I don’t need you – oh no, I got a fire in my soooooooouuul!” the music whispered from the tiny ear-bud which dangled between Isaac and Alexa. Her eyes darkened. She straightened, snatched the bud up and pressing it into her ear.
“No,” Isaac whispered as Alexa turned her back on him and shut the door.
Another crashed shook Isaac as he sat there, trembling and crying before the closed door.
“Lexy, Lexy, come back!” he sobbed, clutching Stuffles tighter every second, “Lexy, I can’t leave you, you have to come back to me . . .”
Around the corner appeared a tongue of flame. Looking up through his tears, Isaac could see a way. If he rolled really fast, he could get through and out. There was room for him to make it to the front door and the ramp! If only . . .
His eyes strayed to Alexa’s door. No.
“I won’t leave you, Lexy,” he said, and though his voice trembled, his gaze was firm. A struggle, a gasp and Isaac fell forwards out of his chair, crumpling in a little heap at the foot of Alexa’s door.
“I’m here, Lexy,” he murmured, pushing himself up on shaking arms until his back leaned against the door. In his arms he clutched the green, stuffed bear.
Oh, tell me a story ‘bout my best friend,” as soft whisper stole over the flames, “The story that never, oh never will end,” the flames crept closer. Isaac swallowed with fear, but kept singing, “A sister and brother – no not any other, could come between these best of friends.”
And on he sang, every few moments calling Lexy’s name. She had written the song, long ago . . . for him.
~ ~ ~
“Let it burn, let it burn, let it burn, burn, burn,” the lyrics screamed through Alexa’s mind, drowning the memories once more. Veiling in smoke those wide, blue eyes . . .
No! She would not think of them. She would not care . . . it hurt too much.
Rolling over, Alexa turned her volume all the way up, pressing her face into the covers.
~ ~ ~
“I don’t remember Mark being such a goofball,” Dad said, turning up the dirt-road.
“Yeah, well,” John replied, grinning as he defended his best friend, “He was pretty excited to graduate.”
“Weren’t we all?” Mom intoned, laying her hand over Dad’s.
With a slight huff, Dad nodded, a smile playing about his lips, “Fair enough.”
A few minutes later:
“Um, Dad?” John said, leaning forward, “What is that?”
Squinting, Dad too leaned forward, lifting his sunglasses.
“Smoke,” he said at last. With a rumble, the car jerked forward, every second picking up a little speed.
“There’s no need to panic!” Mom exclaimed, bouncing painfully as they jumped ruts and bumps alike.
“I need to be sure,” Dad said. Glancing over at him, Mom saw how grim his eyes were, and nodded. Three pairs of eyes stared, fixedly, at the rising column of deep gray smoke.
~ ~ ~
“Oh, there was a song that they liked to sing,” Isaac’s small, trembling voice crooned, whispering off-key as he leaned away from the approaching fire. He could feel it’s heat now, “It was a great story of a king and a queen. The queen was so pretty and king was so strong – it was the two friends most favoritest song.”
“Lexy,” Isaac whimpered, breaking from his song, “I’m scared. Please, Lexy, I’m scared.”
The fire burned higher . . . and closer . . . and hotter.
Even as he sat there, trembling with fear, he leaned his head against the door, and whispered, “I’m not leaving you Lexy, ‘cause . . . ‘cause I love you.”
A coughing fit sent spasms through Isaac’s body as he choked on thick, dark smoke.
“I love you, my Lexy, and so I won’t go,” he whisper-sang. Over and over as the flames drew nearer, he sang that line to
the tune of his and Lexy’s song.
“Isaac!” he heard a voice suddenly call, immediately followed by a deeper one, shouting, “Alexa!”
“Get out! Alexa, get your brother out!” Isaac could hear Mom screaming.
“Daddy!” he called back, “Help!”
The fire was inches away from his lifeless legs.

And then it wasn’t.

“Lexy! Lexy!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face, spasms of coughing shaking him, “Lexy! Please, Lexy, it hurts! Lexy!”
~ ~ ~
But the little blue eyes wouldn’t leave her be. Softly, the gentle voice constantly whispered her name.
“Lexy, Lexy! You need to wake up!” then it changed, becoming wild and desperate:
“Lexy! It hurts! Please, Lexy, come back – I need you!”
“No, no,” she murmured, shaking her head deliriously. She was so suddenly hot, “I want to come back,” a dry sob tore up her throat, “But I can’t!”
The sweet blue eyes suddenly vanished from her mind.
With a rumble, the hallway outside her door collapsed.
“Where are you?” she thought, for a brief moment, wishing the eyes would come back. But then the music blared:
“Burn, let it burn, let it burn, burn, burn. You had love, you’ve got hate. And now. It’s. Too. Late.”
“It is too late,” Alexa thought, and wished it were not so, “It’s too late. I can’t come back. It’s too late.”
A single, hot tear slipped from beneath her eyelashes.
Thunder tore the stillness as an enormous, flaming rafter fell from the ceiling above her.
The music was all she could hear.



Because addiction can be anything and it doesn't just hurt you
It hurts those you love.

You May Also Like

1 people are talking about this

  1. OH RIGHT! I was too busy ranting to you in private chat about "HOW DARE YOU TO THIS TO ME" that I completely forgot to comment here!

    Yes, I will begrudgingly admit that I actually love this story, and it is one of my favorites, BUT WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. You broke my tiny, little heart. T-T

    ReplyDelete