Saturday, September 24th...
Alex's POV....

A floorboard creaks under my foot, causing the small hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end for no apparent reason. I come to a stop in front of one of the windows on the top floor of the Browns' house that outlooks the backyard. Lifting my right hand from my side, I push the silky curtain to the side just enough to look out without revealing myself to anyone outside.

Something shifts in my chest, and I unconsciously let a sigh out, as I take in the bright, sunlit surroundings. Everything, the colorful autumn leaves and soft grass, looking harder and less crisp than I know they really should appear, and instead taking on a more gray and black look, metaphorically speaking. A perfect day for some last minute football practice that used to make a welt of joy grow in my chest at just the thought alone. Jack would-

I lock my jaw, forcing myself to zone in on the two lone figures out in the small vegetable garden as I redirect my thoughts, feeling a twinge of loneliness hit me. Mack and Lucy kneel next to each other by a raised bed, straw hats covering each of their heads from the harsh evening sun like the country folk they are as they work around a specifically large plant I can't seem to care enough about to actually try and identify.

Not that I feel very 'caring' at the moment regardless of what it may be.

Another breath of air leaves my lungs, and I draw my hand back, letting the fabric fall back into place over the glass with a soft swish. I stand there for a few more, long, seconds, my mind and each limb on my body feeling ten times too heavy today along with a dull ache that's been constantly brewing in my chest and head since yesterday morning.

Dragging my feet, I turn around, slowly walking back down the hallway I've already walked more times than I'd like to count today, or yesterday combined.

Sure I know it's just a mixture of depression, and now diagnosed, anxiety that's causing me to feel this way. Making me feel like I haven't slept for weeks when, in fact, I actually got a surprising six hours of uninterrupted sleep last night, and causing my chest to buzz with nerves and turn my stomach in a very. . . undesired way.

Knowing that I should, or I at least think I should, be able to suck it up and play it off as nothing, to ignore it and possibly pull myself out of this funk I've unconsciously put myself into to begin with just makes it all the more worse to think about.

But no. Instead I lay around in bed until after twelve p.m. two days in a row, something very uncharacteristic of me, drag myself throughout the house once all life forms except me exist inside, my mind and body too jittery and wired to stay in bed any longer despite how sluggish I feel.

But really, I can't seem to care at the moment about that.

I momentarily juggle the thought of going downstairs to 'attempt' to stuff something down my throat seeing as I haven't eaten since yesterday, which is soon to be another day, but a vicious twist in my stomach makes me discard the thought almost as fast as it had come.

No thanks. I've already heaved over the toilet once too many times these past two days for my liking.

I shuffle down the hall that leads to the Browns' room, my hands subconsciously twisting and tugging at the bands I now wear around each of my wrists, hiding the gruesome sight from everyone. I vaguely register an almost throbbing and itchy sensation coming from the insides of my wrists, causing the cloud hanging over my head to darken considerably.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I work my way back to my room, squinting my eyes and grinding my teeth as I continue to breathe deeply in a attempt to remove the sudden. . . darker thoughts from my mind.

Pushing the door to as I walk in, I collapse on my bed with all the energy of a week-old corpse, both fearing and yearning the, usually, comfortable piece of furniture at the same time. Burrowing my face into the pillow, I use both my hands to scrunch it up around my head like it might help ward off the stream of thoughts in my mind.

Not like there's any point in trying. I'm just postponing the unavoidable as long as possible, drawing it out longer than necessary, wearing myself out more.

Pointless. Just like so many other things.

~*~
Mack's POV....

"Thanks for your help, Mack. I'm sure those cauliflowers appreciate it."

I smile over at Lucy, tipping my straw hat down at the front just barely. "My pleasure, ma'am." She shakes her head at me before looking off in the distance, and I let a chuckle out.

"So, uh, have you heard anything else from Don yet?" I question, relaxing back on my heels as the cool autumn breeze dries the sweat brimming on my brow. Lucy stays silent a few seconds before abruptly clapping her hands together to dust out her work gloves, eyes still off on the setting sun.

"He said he should be here by tomorrow, but he's not sure." At my look, she continues. "Apparently they're having some bad weather." She elaborates, swiftly turning to head back up towards the house.

Don left early yesterday morning with a few of his farmhands for Kansas to retrieve a small herd of cattle to replace some of the cows that were. . . stolen a few months back.

Shrugging my shoulders, and giving the sudden large gathering of gray clouds in the distance one last look, I turn on my heels, quickly catching up to Lucy in a few large strides.

"Eh, I'm sure-" I cut myself off as Lucy's mobile phone suddenly goes off from inside the front pocket of her overalls, our feet pausing. We both frown as we realize it's one specific ringtone reserved only for farm emergencies in the surrounding area.

It's a farm thing.

Lucy quickly peels off her gloves, pulling her phone out before answering the call. She listens intently, her face barely changing as a rushed voice on the other end does all the talking.

"Alright. I'll see what I can do." She says before ending the call and pushing the device back in her pocket. Her gaze swings over to me, troubled. "That was Cindy from down the road." I nod in recognition, feeling a twist of unease in my stomach. "One of her prized cows is unexpectedly calving, her husband isn't in town, and both the vet and Quinn are occupied. She's asking for help." That troubled expression cracks with indecision as her eyes glance back up at the house, letting me know what's really bothering her.

Not even wasting a second, I step closer to her, straightening up. "You go ahead. I'll keep an eye on Alex until you get back." I tell her, trying to add some conviction into my voice.

She bites her lip. "I don't know. . ." Her eyes land back on the house. "Lucy, you know all of the Dills' cows are special to them. Cindy would be torn if she loses one, especially now." I add, perfectly aware that I'm guilt tripping her.

Come on. It would probably do her some good to get away, if only for a couple hours.

She finally nods after what feels like forever, picking her feet back up to head towards the front of the house. "Okay. . ." She hesitantly says, still seeming unsure. "But promise me you'll keep an eye on him and you'll call me if you need anything, anything at all?" Her serious eyes pierce mine.

"I promise." I hold my right hand up. "Would you like me to swear on it too?" I question. A small smile tugs on the corner of her lips, and she reaches forward to playfully tug on the rim of my hat.

"No need for that." She pats the top of my head, breaking away from me to jog towards her SUV. "I'll hopefully be back soon." She pulls the door open, pausing to look back at me. "You could see if Alex is hungry." Her face once again flickers with unease.

I quickly nod. "Will do. Now go!" I shoo her with my hands, still smiling. She take sone more glance at the house, then she's disappearing down the driveway. I stare after her a minute longer before turning to face the sunset that's now coloring the sky despite the large clump of dark clouds off to the right that seem to be steadily coming closer.

Hm, we may be getting one last storm here before winter.

Entering the house, I throw my boots in the mud room, making sure I take extra care to clean any access dirt off my clothes before I track it into the house, less I want the wrath of Lucy.

Passing through the living room, I take the stairs up to the second floor, attempting to keep my footsteps soft as my stomach grumbles in hunger after a hard day of work and homework.

Ugh. I can just imagine that leftover pizza sitting in the fridge, just waiting for me. Yum.

Carefully making my way to Alex's room, I pause in front of the cracked door. Making a split second decision, I lower my hand I had raised to knock, instead using it to push the door open more.

I wince as it squeaks, a apology on the tip of my tongue that instantly dies away as my eyes land on the prone form of Alex stretched across his bed, back rising and falling evenly as he sleeps.

Frowning ever so slightly, I try to stuff the disappointment back down my throat I can feel growing, reminding myself that sleep is a privilege for him, as I've come to realize, and that I shouldn't feel upset that he's doing that instead of doing something with me.

I'm betting it might be a few more days until he comes back to us. . . Hopefully. Though I hope that doesn't interfere with school seeing as he starts on Monday.

Grabbing the door handle, I pull the door back in its original position, containing my sigh with more force than I'd like. Turning, I glumly head back down to the empty kitchen, the pizza not sounding quite as appetizing anymore.

*Time Skip*

There's a sudden, resounding, bang that cracks through the room, jerking me from my momentary stupor and causing me to snap up into a sitting position. My head swings over to the now dark window to my right, just in time to see a long bolt of lightning momentarily light up the sky.

I feel a shiver crawl up my back before settling between my shoulder blades, a feeling of nostalgia from that fateful day two months ago resurfacing, and I have to force myself to tear my gaze away from the window before I start to question every small shadow outside.

Shaking my head at myself, I take a few deep breaths, swinging my legs over the side of the sofa I'd apparently been napping on. Planting them firmly on the ground, I place my elbows on my knees and lean my upper body forward just as another crack of lighting explodes outside.

Probably the last storm of the season.

Picking the tv remote up, I aim it up at the tv that's still rambling on in the background, only registering the time before I click it off; almost nine o'clock.

Hopefully the cow situation is going alright. They're undoubtedly in the shelter of their large barn, so no need to worry about the storm affecting them, though the thunder can be a bit hindering for a cow in the middle of birth. Then there's the fact Lucy isn't back yet, which either means something isn't going quite right, or she's just waiting a few for the stork to pa-

My eyes widen as I recall the one thing I was supposed to be doing, the one thing Lucy trusted me with.

Alex.

Knowing from experience how much he detests thunder, I practically run across the living room, barely stopping to turn the slight corner that leads to the staircase. My right hand grabs the railing, only for my whole body to come to a screeching halt as I glance up and just happen to catch a glimpse of a shadowed figure sitting atop the stairs, all the lights upstairs off.

I can suddenly breathe easier now that I have him in sight, yet something doesn't feel completely...right.

I eye him from at the bottom of the stairs, trying to gauge him through the thick shadows. Realizing that's not going to get me anywhere, I slowly begin to make my way up the steps, all the while keeping my eyes on him.

Once I come to a stop next to him, I quickly look him over, images from the last thunder storm replaying in my mind.

He was freaked out like nothing I'd ever seen before....And yet, at this moment he's not doing, well.....anything.

He sits at the top of the stairs, his upper body, that's arched over his lap, leans slightly against the post attached to the railing on his right, almost like he's too heavy to support himself. His arms lay folded in his lap while his feet rest on the step two steps down, head and body unmoving as he stares straight ahead.

I simply blink a few times, honestly feeling a little puzzled and worried at the same time.

He's acting similar to when they first brought him back from the clinic almost two weeks ago. Despondent and far away, almost like he's stuck in his own mind.

Swallowing, I hesitantly take a seat a foot away from him, practically wincing as I halfway expect for him to pull some awesome ninja move. Though I'm severely disappointed when he doesn't do anything but blink, not even sparing me a glance.

Is this a problem I should be calling Lucy about? I know he's been down in the dumps all day and yesterday, but this just seems like something else. Especially if you factor in the fact it's storming and we all know for a fact he's not very fond of loud noises.

"Alex. . ." My voice trails off as I get zero response, another small stab of disappointment hitting my chest.

I have to refrain from jumping in my seat as another loud boom sounds from outside, and I just barely catch the movement of Alex's chest hitching as his breath catches, his eyes squinting in a wince.

That seems to somewhat bring him back from wherever he was as he lifts his right hand up to his chest, moving it in small circles as he, probably unconsciously, rubs it. He swallows, and I hear a shuddering breath leave him before he seems to slouch even more in his seat, eyes never leaving that certain spot he's so focused on, and I realize his body is coiled tighter than a spring on a trampoline.

I take a deep breath. "You know, I first met Polly in kindergarten." My voice reverberates around us. "I believe we were partners for finger painting." A smile stretched across my face as I recall the very distant memory. "Some stupid idea someone came up with to help younger kids learn to work together."

"Well, we ended up doing the exact opposite from the get-go." I shrug. "She wanted to paint a magical forest while I wanted to paint a donkey. Eventually we started arguing so loudly we had the whole room's attention. So, right before our teacher could make it over to us, Polly planted her feet, crossed her arms and stared me down with more ferocity than I thought girls could muster at the time."

I chuckle, not even registering it when another bang sounds outside. "I told her to go paint her precious Prince Charming somewhere else, and faster than I could blink, she's suddenly dumping a carton of bright red paint over my head, only to finish and tell me there's no need to paint a donkey because there's an ass right in front of her."

I'd never met a girl like her before, still haven't. To my young self, this resilient and rebellious girl sparked my interest. You could say I'm the one that followed her everywhere and made us become best friends.

"The teachers scolded her all day over her saying a 'bad' word, reminding her time and time again that that's not how we speak. But I think Quinn was honestly more glad her daughter stood up to a boy than the fact she was using a word no kindergartener should use. Typical." I snort, wryly calculating their similarities.

Yup. Definitely a like-Mom-like-daughter for this scenario.

I set my right elbow down on my knee, cupping my head in my hand as I stare out over the stairwell. Silence stretches between us, only broken occasionally from the crack of thunder that's beginning to grow more distant.

"It's my fault."

My gaze snaps over to Alex in surprise, my eyebrows scrunching up unconsciously. "What is?" I ask just as quietly as he had, just above a whisper. Alex shifts in his seat, the slight wheezing, I'd noticed in his breathing a few minutes ago, pausing a second as he swallows.

"They're all. . . dead." His voice rings out emotionless, eyes still distant and staring off to the far corner. As his lips move, they suddenly move to rest on me, causing my heart to pick up unexpectedly from dread. "And it's my fault."

Knowing it could either be good to push him to continue, or bad to bring up more memories, I cautiously move forward despite the risks.

"Who's dead, Alex?"

Something in his expression changes, and he quickly looks away, hands now rapidly fiddling with his newly acquired assortment of braided bracelets on his wrists.

I know he got them for an extra layer of concealment for his. . . scars. But sometimes I wonder if maybe they have a secondary purpose, even if he doesn't even realize it, as something for him to do with his hands that are constantly twitching to do something.

Maybe it's an after affect off surviving so much, a reflex he can't control that constantly keeps him antsy and on-the-go even in the middle of a depression episode?

Alex attempts to let a slow breath out to calm himself, only it rushes out much faster than I'm sure it was intended to. "Tom, the Pleasures'. . . Sabrina, Ja-" He practically chokes on the last name, looking like he's barely holding himself together as his shoulders begin to shake.

"And Jack." He finally forces out, sounding like he hasn't uttered that name for who-know-how-long. "They're dead, because of me." His voice hardens as he accuses himself, and I can tell he's already accepted that to be true.

I frown. "Alex, you know it's not your fault. It was out of your control-"

"No. You don't understand." The venom in his voice surprises me, and his eyes, full of self-hatred and contempt, swing back over to me, shockingly bright in the gloom. "No one understands," he breathes, letting a shaky breath out as his hands fist in his lap.

His eyes suddenly darken, and he looks away once again, shoulders slouching as whatever energy he'd had suddenly washes away, leaving him looking frail and worn once again.

"J-Jack," his voice cracks. "Jack wanted me to get out of MI6 earlier on, repeatedly told me she didn't approve of me getting into danger and risking my life." His jaw tightens, and I vaguely recall hearing about a Jack from Alex's past. Something about a housekeeper he cared about?

"She kept suggesting we leave London, travel back to America where her parents lived and forget about everything MI6 related." His back shakes as he draws in a shuddering breath. "She just wanted a normal life where she wasn't constantly worried about me."

"And yet, I ignored her. The one person I had left in my life that I truly cared about and I flat out ignored her." That venom returns to his voice, only for me to realize it's directed at himself. "I was an idiot. I wasn't ready to forget everything, wasn't ready to stop, move on and pretend to be like any average, everyday school boy. I was addicted to the adrenaline rush that came with every mission, secretly loving every minute of it despite how taxing it eventually became. And eventually, she died, because of that."

He shakes his head, hair swinging slightly with the motion. "No. Everyone can pretend I'm not at fault, that I shouldn't blame myself. When, in fact, if it wasn't for me in the first place, all of them would still be alive."

I suck in a breath as I realize I hadn't been breathing, my face feeling waxy and slightly sweaty from the raw force in his words.

He believes everything he just said. He believes it with utmost certainty that it's all true.

Alex stands up in a surprisingly fluid motion despite how shaken he looks, moving to walk around behind me towards the hall that leads to his room.

I stand up, my mouth moving before I even realize I've decided to say anything. "You might think that, Alex. That everything is your fault, that there's no good left even." His feet stop, back facing me as he listens. "But really, I think you're just a kid that's been handed a crap loud of bullshit he shouldn't have had to deal with."

I suck in a breath, bracing myself. "You're just a kid that needs to realize he's been given a second chance, and that the people he lost wouldn't have wanted him to waste it by moping around in self pity while he blamed himself for their deaths." My voice rises unconsciously, and I spot Alex glance over at me from over his shoulder.

He's quite for a moment, absorbing my words. "Maybe so," he looks down. "but my second chances are already used up."

Then, he walks down the hall, enters his room and shuts the door behind him.

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A/N

Hello!! I honestly can't believe it's been over a month since I last updated! I honestly didn't mean for that to happen, but I was seriously crammed with life, not to mention I really needed that break.

But, now, I'm hopefully back! I reread a few of my earlier chapter yesterday, sat my butt down and started writing yesterday in hopes to give y'all a well deserved chapter today!

I hope it wasn't a disappointment after the long wait?

And if you didn't notice this already, there's going to be a lot of back and forth in this book. This book is about all of Alex's emotional turmoil which is bound to be somewhat confusing and probably a bit irritating. But come on, he's a fifteen year old kid that's been through all this! He deserves to be a little confusing! He's trying to figure himself out. So give him (and me) a break.

So, haha, forewarned.....again. 🤷‍♀️

How was the conversation between Alex and Mack? Anything stick out?

28 VOTES BEFORE I UPDATE AGAIN!! Well done with the last one! 👍🏻

Alright, next time I do believe Alex will be attending his first day at his new school! Though, as another warning, seeing as I've been homeschooled my whole life, I won't go into much detail about the actual school and classes, but I will promise there will be some good moments. 😁

Sorry again!
Maggy