MARSHALL APARTMENT
A flash of dread surges through Alex
as he sticks his key into the lock. The idea of
Lauren still being here,
of having to face her now, is almost enough to make him stay in the hallway.
But he unlocks the door and slips inside, relieved to see that she has
gone.
He shoves the door closed behind
him. His trembling fingers fumble with the lock, but he gets it done up
again, and the second it is, he bolts for his bedroom.
He throws himself onto the bed, his
clothes still on, without turning on the lights. He grabs a pillow and
hugs it tightly. He can feel the pillowcase growing damp from his tears,
but he doesn't mind. The feeling is almost comforting -- almost.
He clutches the pillow as sobs rock
his body. His cries are silent, for the most part, though an occasional
moan slips out. And he finds those moans slowly turning to mumbles words,
desperate clips and phrases.
"I didn't. I couldn't have ... I
didn't," he sobs. Something inside tries to reassure him by bringing Jason's
soothing words to the fore, but that horrible scene of leaning in and kissing
Jason overrides everything and sends a fresh wave of torment through Alex.
"I was right," he cries, his words
little more than a hoarse whisper. "I knew this would happen. I ruined
everything ..."
And he lies there on the bed, crying,
rocking, as the black clouds of memory pull him deeper and deeper into
the pit of despair.
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