Chapter Text
"Alex?" His therapist prompts gently as he disappears for a longer time than necessary in his own mind. She is sitting across from him, leaning forward with her arms crossed over the table, a blue notepad discarded in her lap and a pen in her right hand. She looks ready to reach out for him, but he doesn't want her to touch him and he told her so during their first meeting. She is young, and naive, and now she is looking at him with worried eyes behind those old fashioned square glasses. The tag on her bluse says Dr. A. Hemings, but she has told him to call her Angelina. He finds that particularly hard with the very strict "no-sir-yes-sir" policy going on at home, but he tries his best to follow her wishes. Right now, the mirror of concern on her face is so alike Jessica's expression when he told her about his stomach problems for the first time, and he nearly wants to punch her, just because the thought of Jessica makes him want to run and never look back. He doesn't though, because despite being surprisingly prone to anger and even fighting of late, he doesn't really enjoy it, and Angelina has been nothing but kind.
"Yeah?" He answers quietly instead, glancing up from where his fingers are twisted together in his lap so tightly that he can see the knuckles stand out white. He meets her searching eyes mostly just to prove that she has his attention, and in a weak attempt at trying to convince her that he is fine. He has already forgotten her previous question, and she offers a small smile of approval as their eyes makes connection.
The red bangs are curled over her forehead and she truly does look pretty with her head tilted slightly to the side, that tight, worried tug of her plum colored lips reminds him of his mother, but Alex knows better than to voice his thoughts. She would just take it as him being avoidant, or even rude, and honestly, Alex knows that giving his therapist compliments might not be the best of his ideas. It might be inappropriate and unprofessional, not to talk about awkward. He just really wishes that he had given those kind of comments to Hannah when she was alive. He hates the regret, and he hates the guilt. Quite frankly, he hates himself too.
Angelina looks like she wants to say something. Maybe she is ready to repeat the question she had given him over five minutes ago, or maybe she wants to ask him what's on his mind, but then her lips turns into a thin line, and the frown returns to her face. She is thinking, evaluating her options and ways to go on with their appointment. Alex shifts uneasily in the gigantic armchair, trying his best not to shrink away under her intense stare of scrutinization.
"You have always been very clear with me that there are some things that you cannot talk to me about." She says when she has finished trying to map him out, voice gentle and an offer to open up, but she is not exactly prying or trying to force him into saying something he doesn't want to have said. Alex looks away from her eyes, frowning into his lap again. He hates not being able to tell her about everything that's on his mind. She actually makes a really good impression of caring, and he likes her company. He always feels a bit lighter when leaving her office, but keeping some things locked up inside of him, keeping the worst stuff locked up inside of him; it doesn't work in the long run. Five minutes out in the world tops, and reality dawns on him again. Hannah returns in his mind, voice still so hauntingly clear every time he thinks he hears her speak. He remembers Jessica and the accident in the pool house, and he remembers how much of a fucking disappointment he is. Everything just comes right back to him, and he fucking hates having to fake being okay.
"But I do think you should talk to someone." Angelina continues, and Alex sucks in a harsh breath though his nose that almost sounds like an annoyed snort, or a barely recognizable attempt at holding back a sob.
There are a lot of things he cannot tell her about. The tapes for example. Those belongs to a part of him that he has locked up inside of him behind so many layers of guilt that he can feel it crawling up his throat sometimes; choking him. He talks about Hannah sometimes. At first he just talked about her in third person, but then he had a small crisis and during one of his many mental breakdowns he must have accidentally mentioned her name, because during his next visit, Angelina wanted to talk about "Hannah". He threaded carefully after that, told her about his former best friend who committed suicide and explained how guilty he felt. Luckily for him, she instantly jumped to conclusions which stopped him from admitting something stupid. She told him that feeling guilty about another person committing suicide was absolutely normal, because for some reason "normal" was one of her favorite words to use, and he never mentioned the tapes and he wasn't going to. He didn't mention the fact that he was one of the bullies; one of the people who drove Hannah into doing what she did, and he tries to avoid the subject as much as possible, just to assure himself that he won't say anything he will regret later on.
He likes Angelina. He likes that she lets him play dumb sometimes as if she doesn't notice him avoiding her questions, and that she lets him shut her out completely whenever he thinks that she goes to far or starts to suspect that he cannot keep quiet much longer. He likes that she doesn't seem like the kind of therapist who pries for the truth. She seems content with only parts of it, so that he gives her something to work with so that she can actually try and help him. He wonders if she still would want to help him if she found out that he was a killer, that the girl he had spent so many hours crying over in her office actually was killed by him. Help wasn't really anything that was working on him either. He was still just as broken as he was the first time he stepped through that door to Dr. Hemings office.
"Talking to someone about what truly troubles you might as well do you a lot of good Alex. If you cannot talk to me about it; fine. But I can see that you are hurting and if you don't start talking to me, I can't help you."
He also can't tell her about the raw, itching marks on his writs, hidden from view underneath the cardigan he always wears nowadays. If she found out, she would stamp him with the "at risk for his own life" label, and she would be obligated to inform his parents. That was the last thing Alex wanted. It was already awkward enough that they had gone through this exact process in sixth grade, when Alex's stomach problems first started acting up and his old therapist somehow managed to convince him that talking to his parents was a fucking excellent idea. It had all ended with Alex's father angrily lecturing him about being weak; talking to a therapist was ridiculous because there wasn't anything wrong with his son.
His mother simply didn't care all that much. She barely even mentioned the meetings after she found out, and now Alex wonders if they even remembers it at all. Anyhow, Alex really doesn't see the point in them knowing about his not so healthy ways of coping with all the pain and guilt he is feeling. He wouldn't even be able to give them an arguable reason, which would only mate the matter worse. If his older brother found out, he would most likely just tell him to "suck it up"; as if Alex hadn't tried that already. There was also a good chance that his brother would call him a girl, because in his mind, only girls were capable of cutting.
Cutting was just Alex's way of escaping the pain, and he knew that it might not be the healthiest of methods, but it actually worked, at least for a little while. It worked better than alcohol, and better than pain killers, because when the effects of those medications faded away, he just felt even worse than he did before.
"Every single event documented here may never have happened had you, Alex, not written my name on that list. It's that simple."
His foot bumps up and down on the floor as he tries to calm the raising levels of panic building in his chest. Hannah's voice follows him everywhere. He is never free from her, and he hates that her voice makes him shiver. He hates that it makes him hate himself even more. He just... fucking hates everything.
"You've heard of the butterfly effect, right? That if a butterfly flaps its wings at just the right time in just the right place. It can cause a hurricane thousands of miles away. It's chaos theory. But, see, chaos theory isn't exactly about chaos. It's about how a tiny change in a big system can affect everything. Chaos theory. Sounds dramatic, but it's not. Ask a mathematician. Better yet, ask someone who's been in a hurricane."
He also can't tell Angelina about his negative way of thinking, or how he even only a few hours ago contemplated stepping out into running traffic before stepping into her office instead. That would definitely make her call his parents.
"The butterfly effect. It started with Justin... and onto you, Alex. And the rest of you. Maybe these tapes will start a new butterfly effect. Who knows?"
Alex shifts uneasily under Angelina's intense eyes, glancing around the room just to buy himself more time. The walls of the hospital are cream colored behind a bunch of bookshelves that are placed across the room by the wall. They are filled with books, sorted by their authors' last names. Alex had noticed this during his first visitation, when his nerves had spiked so high that it was physically impossible for him to sit still, and he had turned to sliding his fingertips over every book, memorizing them just to try and chase Hannah's voice away as Angelina patiently had tried to get him to talk. It hadn't really worked, but at least they had made progress.
Angelina sighs. She sounds tired, like she is trying to push a small child into talking to her. Alex can't help but feel incredulously small, blinking rapidly in an attempt to make the wetness in his eyes to go away. The tears still prickle his eyes, and when one is threateningly close to slipping out and run down his cheek, he lifts his hand up to wipe it away. He pretends not to notice the way Angelina's frown deepens, and the way her eyes follows his every move, as if she almost can see the cuts underneath his cardigan. When he sniffles and still says nothing, avoiding looking her in the eyes, she decides to put it out clear and simple for him.
"Do you have someone you can talk to Alex?"
Alex blinks a couple of times, just to try and sort his thoughts out. They are running crazy in his head. Nothing makes sense, but he tries to see past the blur. He pictures Jessica in his head; all those many hours they spent at Monet's are heartbreaking memories. He can still feel her soft hand brush against his own shaking one as he told her about the origins of his stomach pains. He can still remember her gentle, warm eyes as she scanned him over, searching for answers on his skin. Hannah was the first one to stop coming, but Jessica had always been there. Jessica with her warm, comforting hugs and gentle kisses on his cheek. Jessica with her comforting knee bumps under the table over lunch and understanding nods of her head as he told her about his spiraling depression. She has never judged him, never looked down on him. He loves her, more as a friend now than his actual ex girlfriend, but he loves her nonetheless. She is his light now, especially since Hannah is gone, but he also knows that he can't bother Jessica.
He can't go to her with his problems when he knows what has happened to her. He can't bring himself to do anything about it either, not even say anything on the subject. He can't talk to her about it, and he knows that he has let her down. He has failed her just as much as Hannah, and he simply cannot bother her with his all of problems when he knows that she has her own to deal with. She is much worse off than him, in a way, so it clearly isn't fair of him to even consider bothering her with all his shit. The way she looks at him sometimes, when his stomach acts out and he is in so much pain he has to physically force himself not to double over, sends shivers of guilt down his spine. She wants to help him, she still fucking cares about him, and he doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve her.
No, he can't turn to Jessica.
Alex closes his eyes for a moment, and thinks back on the past few weeks. He instantly rules out Bryce and Montgomery, for reasons that could as well go unsaid. Bryce is a fucking rapist, and Montgomery... is just a bully and an absolute ass. He has never even spoken to Ryan or Courtney before the tapes, and Clay reminds him too much of Hannah. He seems like a decent enough guy, and he and Hannah had been friends, but he can also be very annoying and fucking inquisitive, and Alex sure as hell don't want him to turn his depressing story time into an interrogation. He has enough of those at home already.
Then there is Zach. Zach is actually one of the few guys in the group that he actually finds somewhat interesting to talk to, but they aren't friends. He kind of seems like a nice guy and Hannah liked him, but she had also tried to open up to him and he had left her hanging. First of all, he can't possibly just look past that fact; that he knew and did nothing, and secondly, what insinuates that this time will be different? Zach might as well leave him hanging as well, and Alex is pretty sure he can't handle rejection one more time, not from Zach, not from anyone.
What Marcus did is fucking unbelievable and unforgivable. The sight of him makes Alex wants to punch something, for real. It makes him want to go after Bryce, mostly just for the sake of wiping that smug fucking smile of his off of his face. He is bigger than Marcus though, and he actually scares the living shit out of Alex, no matter how many beers he has downed. He is intimidating, and actually somehow manages to appear decent despite being a fucking monster. The double personality freaks Alex out. He always feels like something terrible is about to happen hen Bryce is around, and he never knows what to expect. All he knows is that that guy deserves to be put behind fucking bars, forever.
There is also Tyler, but Tyler is... Tyler. Alex has no idea how to describe the guy. Something about the sight of him just makes Alex feel annoyed, and even more tired than he already is. He doesn't get on his nerves too much, and he hasn't been downright and openly mean to anyone as far as Alex is concerned. He is creepy and thinking about those photos makes Alex's skin crawl, but he is an introverted outsider, and most of the time, he leaves them alone. Alex has even stepped up for him a couple of times, looked out for him, but that was mostly because he was fucking tired of bullies and Tyler apparently made an easy target. Alex's doesn't even want to consider going there, but now his options are running thin. He doesn't talk much to Sheri either. She seems like a kind girl, but again, they aren't friends and Alex doesn't want to bother her.
In the end, that just leaves him with Justin. Justin fucking Foley, who Hannah said started it all.
This is the Justin who had let Jessica get fucking raped, and for some reason still didn't get sick by just the sight of his so called "friend" Bryce. This is the Justin who pushed him into doing stuff he really didn't want to do, like driving Clay through town in the middle of the night just to "scare him", or drinking on a school night because they wanted to "hang out", or make a stupid fucking list, just because that would "make him fucking cool".
This is also the Justin who had tried to talk him out of fighting Montgomery though, and who had been standing outside his door in the middle of the fucking night looking like a kicked, abandoned puppy. This is also the Justin who complimented his mother's steak and ate like he hadn't gotten a decent meal inside of him in forever, and who spent the night sleeping on a mattress in Alex's room. This is also the Justin who casually asked him why he quit jazz band as he gently strummed on Alex's guitar, and the Justin who gave him a confused, non-teasing I-am-actually-listening kind of look as he told him with as much truth in his voice as possible that he just didn't enjoy it anymore.
And despite all of his faults, Justin is the closest thing Alex has to a friend right now, so after another moment of hesitation, he nods, much to Angelina's approval.
"Yeah." He mumbles out, picking at the hem of his cardigan, glancing at the raw cuts on the inside of his arm. He doesn't want to talk with Justin, but he thinks that if he wants to get through this, which Angelina somehow manages to convince him into wanting after every visit, he knows that he probably should. He knows that he cannot do this alone, and the thought of approaching Jessica makes him feel nauseous. The others are out of question. Justin it is then. He takes a deep breath, holding it for a second before letting it out, meeting Angelina's eyes. "Yeah, I think I do actually."
"Everything effects everything."