Darkness Before Dawn

 

    Squeezing my eyes shut, I hug my shivering body and try to picture myself somewhere far, far away. Other than the dirty mattress I lay on, there is nothing here—nothing but the darkness that surrounds me. At the sound of footsteps approaching, my breathing pounds in anticipation. As he draws closer, it begins to shallow. When I hear the doorknob turn, I stop breathing altogether. The steps get closer...closer...until they reach me.
    The sound of shifting denim fills the empty room as he crouches down in front of me, and I try to hold in my breath as the smell of cigarettes and bourbon that seeps from him tickles my nostrils.
    A small whimper escapes me when his calloused hands caress my face and I stifle a frightened quiver that threatens to break out over my body. I never know if I'm going to get nice Alex or not, but if I had a choice I'd go with the latter. Not that I like him either way. I figured I would place him on my shelf of villains. Alex is kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That's what he reminds me of. He grabs both sides of my face in one of his hands and squeezes it, my own yelp dragging me out of my thoughts.
    "Look at me," he demands gruffly.
    My eyes peel open slowly to meet his blue eye greets me, soft and warm. His glass eye reflecting the sadness in my own.
    "Are you feeling well?" he asks after a beat.
    I grind my jaw and glare at him in response. I like it better when he's mean to me, when he's sober. When I don't respond, he sighs deeply, letting go of my face, and sits down in front of me. I loosen the grip I have around myself and sit up, mimicking him.
    "Did you eat today?" he asks.
    "Yes," I whisper, flinching when he pushes himself up to his knees suddenly and buries his face in his hands. I stare wide-eyed at the back of his blond head before I look around the now dimly lit room. If I had something heavy I could knock him out right now, but of course there's nothing here except that damn broken television and I can't lift that. He takes a long, deep breath before he looks up again, his face glistening.
    "It wasn't supposed to be you," he whispers hoarsely, extending his arm to touch my face, brushing my left cheek.
    I don't understand what he means by this. If it wasn't supposed to be me, why did he take me? Instead of asking, I close my eyes and think of my rock during these hours, days, months, years. His bright green eyes, crooked smile, dimple, and messy hair. His protective arms and everything they offer me when I need it most. My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears, and for a moment I find my zen because in that moment I'm with Cole.
    "I'm sorry," Alex says brokenly. "I'm so sorry," he cries, bringing his face to his knees and clutching the mattress below me with the palms of his hands. My body shakes along with the mattress as he continues to sob in front of me. I don't know what to do, so I just sit wallowing in my own sadness and examining his wide, scraped knuckles.
    "Are you going to let me go?" I ask quietly.
    Suddenly, he lifts up and sits back on his heels very slowly. His eye darkens as it narrows on mine and the disapproval in them makes my stomach plummet.
    "What?" he asks through gritted teeth. "What do you mean, let you go?"
    "You...you said you were sorry," I stammer.
    "I'm never letting you go again, Cory," he huffs, his face hardening as he gets up and walks to the door.
    "I'm not Cory," I whisper, more to myself than to him, but my voice bounces off the walls of the small empty room and I know he hears me.
    "What did you say?" he growls, pivoting around swiftly.
    "I'm not Cory," I whimper.
    He stomps over to me and before I can move back, the back of his hand makes contact with my face, causing my entire head to jerk sideways. My painful cry is cut short when he yanks me by the hair and drags me off the mattress, making me scramble awkwardly on my hands and feet in an attempt to lessen the pain on my scalp.
    "I KNOW YOU'RE NOT CORY," he bellows as he continues to drag me around the room while I hold on to my head to stop the burn. "If it weren't for you, maybe she'd still be here! With me!" He lets me go suddenly, bumping me against the side of the dresser, before he walks over and crouches down in front of me, his breathing harsh in my ear. I force myself to look up and when our eyes lock, his entire demeanor changes. His eyes widen and he stumbles back, grumbling an apology under his breath before walking out and slamming the door behind him. I wait