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Sweat-slicked hands with blood caked in the fingernails wrap around the doorknob, turning it until it opens and he’s greeted by a familiar voice and the sound of high-pitched barking.
“Alex!” Amy’s face comes into view as she comes in from the hallway, Rocky, trotting a steady pace by her legs.
As soon as she lays eyes on Alex, they widen, and her brows furrow. Their face creased in concern, eyes dragging from Alex stumbling in, a distant expression in his eyes, and the still-bleeding cut resting above his brow. “Alex! What happened to you?” The excitement drains from her voice in return for concern.
Amy’s hand comes to rest upon Alex’s frigid cheek, her soft palm against his face, seemingly snapping him from his stupor.
The static clears, his eyes screwed shut and he looks back at Amy. “Are you hurt? What happened?” She withdrew her hand, hooking her arm underneath Alex’s, and tugged him into the bathroom of their bedroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the tub as Amy’s on her knees rummaging from the cabinet beneath their sink, sifting through the soft towels, pushing them to the side she comes across the bottle of Isopropyl.
she grabs a clean washcloth and sits beside Alex, watching him carefully as she opens the bottle and gets some onto it, dabbing it on the cut, eliciting a hiss of pain from Alex.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, offering a sympathetic expression. “How did that happen? What am I going to do with you?” Her lips part as if she’s going to speak but she doesn’t when Alex’s expression crosses his face.
The bottle is placed on the floor, cloth is on her lap. “You’re starting to worry me, Alex,” she says, leaving the statement open-ended as they both know what she is referring to; the blood appearing on his clothes suddenly, coming home dazed, leaving and returning home at odd hours.
He doesn’t offer any sound explanations either and tonight isn’t any different.
“Honey,” Amy’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, cleanly like butter. “What’s going on? I know you aren’t telling me something.”
Alex frowns, licking his chapped lips. “I don’t know,” he answers as Amy takes his hands, her thumb tracing idly into his calloused skin. Her eyes grazed the dry blood underneath his nails.
Breathe catching in her throat as she takes note, it’s noticeable as Alex’s throat tightens and he speaks, “Is something wrong?”
Amy takes Alex’s hand, inspecting his nails. “Tell me,” she pleads, eyes darting around. “Just tell me, I thought we didn’t hide things from each other? Not big things like whatever this is.”
“I don’t know,” Alex swallows, his eyes shutting and he exhales through his nose shakily. “I don’t know.” He repeats firmer.
“I’m tired,” Alex breathes, squeezing Amy’s hands in return.
Amy’s lips pursed but she nodded, dropping his hands into her lap. There’s a whimper at the door and scratching at it, a nose pushing past the barrier of the door when it pushes open.
“Okay,” Amy breathes, she stands up and puts all the items that were taken out of place. The Isopropyl back in the cabinet and the washcloth thrown into the laundry aside from her clothing and Alex’s. “I am too.”
Amy sets about locking the front door, she hears Alex calling for Rocky and she walks back into the bathroom to retrieve the clothes Alex had left folded for her to toss in the laundry as he always did.
She picks up the the jacket on the counter, inspecting it underneath the dim, flickering light of the bathroom that reminded her she needed to change them since Alex had bought replacements, she squints at a spot on the striped jacket, it’s dark.
It looks almost red, Amy’s stomach does a flip but she collects the clothes and tosses them in the hamper.
Cutting the light off, she exits the room.
That’s the third time this week.
Amy pushes the door open as Alex lifts Rocky onto the bed and slips in, she ties her blonde hair back and does the same, taking her spot on the left. “Are you okay?” She asks, for what she thinks is the fifth time this week.
Alex’s tense shoulders sink into the soft pillows, he takes off his glasses, sitting them on the nightstand as Rocky curls up between his and Amy’s feet.
Amy scoots closer, hands resting on his shoulders. “You’re tense,” she whispers, frowning. Alex sinks into her touch without any hesitation, her manicured nails scratching carefully against his shoulders as her fingers press and dip into them in circles. “I may not know what’s bothering you, but I know something is upsetting you.”
Alex’s eyes open, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. His hands come up to rest on Amy’s arms, his head against her chest.
“Sarah’s not answering her phone,” Says Amy, concern lacing her voice, fingers tapping against the wooded table.
Alex’s stomach twists, and an unsteady hand comes to adjust his glasses. “She’s not?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know. He can’t wash the stickiness of her blood from his skin, her screaming ringing in his ears at night when he wakes in a cold sweat, leaning forward, breath catching in his throat as Amy’s cold palms press, rubbing his bare back.
“Jess asked me if I’d heard from her and when I thought about it, I hadn’t.” Amy’s tongue clicks, her hands wrapped around the mug, the steam of the coffee escaping.
“You haven’t heard from her, have you?” Amy’s voice trails off. “Seth called me.”
“He called me too,” Alex responds, throat tightening.
“It’s just so unlike her,” Amy sighs, raising the cup to her lips, reminding Alex to do the same with his before Amy comments about it.
“Maybe she’s visiting home,” Alex offers, weakly, his grip on his mug tightening as he brings it to his lips with a slight shake.
“Are you feeling okay?” Amy’s voice fizzles in and out, her lips part. “You don’t look so well, Honey.”
“I’m going to stop by her apartment today and see if she’s there.” Amy takes the last sip of her coffee. “I’d ask you if you’d wanna go but you don’t look so good… maybe that can wait.”
Alex’s hands pull away from the heat of the mug, his heart thumping against his ribcage.
“Alex,” Amy’s hand reached out, grazing Alex’s shoulder and he jolted away as if she’d burned him. “Why don’t you lay down?”
A knife or something feels as if it’s being jabbed into Alex’s skull, static slipping it through the hole that was being punctured.
Amy’s hands are on his shoulders, pulling him up before he can protest.
Amy’s head rests on Alex’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around one of his arms.
Rocky’s head on Amy’s lap as some movie on Alex’s laptop played, it’s Friday and it’s inexplicably calm.
The calm before the storm perhaps considering what Alex’s hands were capable of doing and what he was planning to do.
It’s not like he wanted to or derived any pleasure from it. It would be selfish not to act if he knew that —that thing—whatever it was would harm them and all because of him.
Him. Him. Him. Him.
He’d made her cry a few times, it was usually Alex blowing up and crying at the smallest things and Amy always soothed him without judgment because she understood the frustration.
but when he sees her cry. And cry. And cry.
Because of him, it’s all wrong.
Rocky’s ears perk up and he lifts his head off Amy’s lap, walking to the edge of the couch and sniffing, sniffing, and more sniffing until he barks at something and Amy hushes him, calling him back.
Alex pauses the movie, craning his neck to peer at whatever had disturbed the canine, and sees nothing, he clicks to unpause despite the nagging feeling.
He feels something breathing down his neck, his skin prickles, static where Amy lay and it’s filling his ears again. Rocky barks again. And again. And again. His throat tightens, his mouth is running dry and his laptop begins to buffer and Alex’s eyes dart around.
Amy’s eyes flickered up towards him, “is something wrong?” She asks, all Alex hears is static and his throat closes up, heat building up in the back of his eyes. He clears his throat again and again, catching Amy’s attention.
“Love?”
“Alex,” Amy says, she lifts her head from his shoulder. “Alex?” She repeats a little more firmer. Tears pricking at the corners of Alex’s eyes seep out, his chest heaving and a sob escapes his lips. It’s loud and fills the room.
Amy’s hands find their way back to Alex’s trembling shoulders. “What’s wrong?” She scoots closer, his shoulders shuddering underneath her touch as her palms swipe circles into his back.
“Do you want the light off?” Amy questions as Alex hiccups, more tears streaming down his face. She waits for an answer before deciding to move and turn the lights off herself, she sits back down, pulling Alex to her chest.
“I know, I know,” Amy soothes, Alex’s head tucked underneath her chin, she sinks back into the couch, the laptop on the coffee table as she lays back with Alex in her arms. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” She whispers.
“Jess,” Amy’s voice breaks the silence, it’s uncharacteristically quiet.
too quiet for Jessica’s liking. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” Jessica answers, smiling at Amy.
Amy folds her arms in front of her chest, staring at her sneakers before she speaks. “It’s about Alex, he’s been acting out of it. He’s really worrying me.”
“It isn’t just me, is it?” She asks, looking for some kind of assurance. Assurance that Jessica gives.
“No, I’ve noticed, so has Jay,” Jessica says she frowns at Amy’s expression.
“He just hasn’t been himself, and I miss my Alex.” Amy sighs, She bites her lip.
“You’re right, he hasn’t, he’s been an ass,” Jess says, rather pointedly. “Maybe try bringing it to his attention?”
Amy nods, “thank you, Jess. You’re the best.” She leans into Jessica’s waiting arms.
“Alex, I wanna talk,” Amy says, crossing her arms on the dining table. “if not, I’m staying with Jess tonight.”
Alex sits down, hesitantly. “About?”
“How you’ve been acting, you’re not yourself.” Amy reaches across the table, placing her hands over Alex’s hands. “What’s going on?”
“You’re right,” Alex murmurs, he swallows. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been so stressed….”
The room goes silent, and Amy doesn’t speak.
She’ll never understand.
“Do you wanna go home and watch a movie when we’re done?” Questioned Alex, scanning over the menu, he squints as he adjusts his glasses.
Amy nudges his arm, sitting her menu down. “Don’t squint, you’ll make your eyes worse.”
Alex smiles, nudging Amy back. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Amy rolls her eyes, leaning her head on Alex’s shoulder. “I’d love to, silly.”
They order and get their food, Amy cuts into her steak. “Have you talked to Jay?”
“A bit ago, I did,” Alex answers, not looking up from his plate.
“I mean, recently?” Amy corrects herself, taking a piece of the cut steak and eating it.
“No,” Alex answers, shifting in his seat, he picks at his food a bit more before taking a bite.
“You should talk to him,” Amy says, looking up to make eye contact with him. “He’s worried, we all are.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Amy,” Alex forces out, his smile twitching. “If Jay wants to talk to me, he’ll talk to me.”
“I’m worried you won’t let him,” Amy says matter-of-factly, that bothers Alex to some degree she already knows. It doesn’t surprise him.
“I’ll take mine to go if you’re ready to go,” Amy says motioning to Alex’s halfway-full plate, he nods.
“I’m a bit full, let’s do that,” Alex says, as he pulls out his wallet.
The waitress comes by and Amy requests to-go boxes and fills them up, Alex pays.
He holds the door for Amy to walk out, takes the boxes from her, and opens the passenger's side seat door, he sets the food in the back and gets into the car. Pushing his keys into the ignition to start the car. The car ride is silent for the most part.
Alex cranks up the radio to fill the silence as Amy folds her coat to lie in her lap. “Jess asked about you,” she says, and Alex hums in response.
“She’s wondering why you’re ignoring Jay,” Amy says, followed by a few beats of silence.
“Alex?” Amy asks.
Alex’s hands squeeze the steering wheel and he peers at Amy. “Amy, love, please just drop it.” The car comes to a halt in front of the house and Alex grabs his keys and wallet, he opens the door for Amy and helps her grab her coat and the boxes.
Amy sticks the food into the fridge and Alex takes Rocky out for a walk after he’d stopped barking and was able to greet Amy.
After he comes back in, he unhooks Rocky’s leash allowing him to run off. He picks Amy's coat and purse off the table and walks into the bedroom where Amy finishes changing into a t-shirt and leggings.
Alex kicks his shoes off and changes too.
Amy had kicked off her heels, she walked up behind him. “God, my feet are sore.” She’s about his height now, being taller than him in heels. Amy’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist, pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulder.
The pair walk into the living room and Alex locates the remote as Amy curls up beside him, spreading out a teal blanket over the both of them. Rocky bounds over, tail wagging and he leaps onto the blanket.
“What movie did you have in mind?” Alex asks, skimming the selection before handing the remote to Amy, as their legs tangle together.
“Hmm, why don’t we try something new?” She asks, clicking on something that seemed promising.
Amy’s head slips onto Alex’s shoulder, his fingers threading through soft, blonde hair, splaying it out over his shoulder.
About halfway into the movie, Amy’s asleep and Alex isn’t. Left alone with his thoughts and his eyes dart from the television screen, Amy, and Rocky. He doesn’t think he’s going to get another chance like this.
Alex doesn’t think if he waits he’s gonna be able to force himself to do this. Her expression was peaceful and she was lying to him, she wouldn’t know what happened and it’d be quick so long as she stayed asleep.
She will. She will. She will.
that’s why he was doing this—to keep her that peaceful—protect her from that thing getting its claws on her and sinking its teeth into her—mauling her as it had him.
Alex’s hands trembling, Rocky lay inches away and his hands pressed to the back of her neck, she’s breathing softly and he plants a kiss on the crown of her head. his fingers slowly wrap around her throat, his hands trembling and they begin to press into soft skin, tightening his grip.
Suddenly, Amy’s eyes shoot open, looking around and when she tries to take a breath, nothing comes. Her hands come up to Alex’s hands, her nails digging into his hands as she attempts to pry them from her neck. Her nails leave angry, red indents on his shaking hands.
There’s a low growl almost snapping Alex from what he’s doing, his grip momentarily loosening when he sees Rocky, ears up, growling at him.
It does nothing as Amy soon does go limp.
Alex retracts his trembling hands from Amy’s now bruised neck, staring at the marks left on his hands. Amy’s head is languid against his chest.
Alex awakes tiredly, the weight on his chest isn’t there, no Amy. The scent of her perfume is still sickeningly fresh in his nose. He can’t breathe.
He stumbles into the empty bedroom, Rocky trots beside him, lying down at the door when Alex shuts the door. He falls into the bed, Amy’s side feeling unbearably cold on his back.
Alex holds the camera in his hands, it carries a deadweight that weighs heavy in his hands. He grips it tighter, his fingers digging into the camera as his clammy hands tremble.
He’d turned it on, straining to listen to the grainy, choppy audio playing from it. He can just barely make out Jay and Jessica’s voices in it, it pans out, revealing Amy’s face and it freezes on it. Her smile, her eyes, her everything. Frozen in time as if nothing happened the static stabs into his head from the audio—he hardly registers the deafening static, his fingers brushing against the screen and he clicks to wind it back, it freezes on Amy again.
The grainy image he stares at is replaced with her limply lying against him. It seemed wrong for him to attempt to restart the camera that was stuck with her untarnished image. A singular frame of Amy.
The same Amy’s whose side of his bed has been left undisturbed and unbearably cold.
Alex’s eyes fluttered open, he stared upwards toward the ceiling. He turns on his side, noticing a piece sticking out from underneath his pillow.
Pulling it out, it’s a picture of Amy, originally it’d been in his wallet. He’d traded it out to keep it under his pillow instead.
His eyes shut.