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Ch.5-Sympathy For The Devil

Alec didn't come back.

I was a mixture of worried and confused and angry. Mostly angry, because I didn't want to be worried about him but I couldn't help it. I knew from personal experience that nothing good came from having that look in your eyes.

I woke up late the next day, into afternoon, and I asked my grandfather if he was concerned at all about Alec's welfare. He said that of course he was, but he wasn't going to let it bother him too much. Apparently this had happened twice before, and nothing could bring him home but time. That sounded like the bullshit answer to me, and I was waiting for the day somebody told me the whole story.

But, as it was, with no Alec to stress over I made a little time for myself. It had been a while since I'd sought out help, seeing as the last time I did it ended disastrously with my parents hating me more because the doctor had nipped us of a thousand dollars. But I was willing to try again, because this one seemed levels nicer and I also knew, from more personal experience, that it was better talking things out when I was feeling the way I was.

So I pulled up outside the Harding & Harding office, and strode up to the door before I lost my nerve. The same woman was at the desk and I asked her if Dr. Harding took walk-ins.

"She does," she told me. "In fact, she doesn't have an appointment for another hour. Do you remember where her room is?"

"Yes, thank you." I spared her a smile and travelled the same path I had taken a couple days ago with Alec. When I opened the door, I froze, any potential words running back down my throat. Dr. Harding wasn't alone. There was a man with her, tall and handsome with a little girl at his side and a sleeping baby in his arms.

"Lily!" the blonde woman exclaimed, rising from her seat. A bright smile spread across her face. "It's so great to see you. This is my husband," she stated, gesturing to the main. "Sam. He's a psychologist here. And this is our daughter, Holly. The sleeping baby is Ruby."

I zeroed in on the girl, her innocent smile and sparkling eyes calming my pounding heart. "Hi, Holly," I greeted.

"Hello!" she replied enthusiastically, pigtails swinging.

"I'll see you when we get back," Sam stated, pecking the woman on the cheek and ushering Holly out. He nodded at me in goodbye and closed the door behind him. I shifted awkwardly, now not entirely sure I made the right choice.

"Have a seat," Elsie implored, and woodenly I did just that. "Is something wrong, Lily? Is it Alec?"

"Yes-no-sort of," I settled on. I dropped my face in my hands. "I used to do these things back in Nevada but it didn't end well."

"What things?" she questioned, voice laced with amusement.

"These doctor-patient heart-to-hearts. I hate them."

"But you're here."

"I know."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really."

She was quiet for a moment. "But are you anyway?"

"Yeah." I breathed out a long breath and laced my fingers together, using them to support my chin. "I have issues, Dr. Harding."

"You can call me Elsie," she stated with a flick of her wrist. "I'm not about keeping things professional all the time."

I nodded. "I have issues, Elsie. And sometimes it becomes too much, and I don't know what to do."

She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. "What kind of issues, dear?"

"Family issues."

"Would you like to elaborate?"

I shook my head. "No."

"What can I help you with, Lilia? I want to help, but I'm not exactly sure of your intent."

I released a suffering sigh. "I get this feeling, sometimes," I relayed to her in a mumbled tone. "It started when I was younger, and it comes from stress and anxiety, I guess. It went away for a while, but I noticed it started coming back. And I used to talk this out with my doctor, but it hasn't happened in a while."

A sympathetic expression sculpted her features. "What does this feeling feel like?"

"Terrible," I replied. "Empty. Hopeless. Like I'm just some bottomless hole. And I don't like being sad, Elsie. I'm so done with being sad all the time."

I snapped my lips shut, unintentionally revealing more in that one statement than I had intended. Her eyes travelled over my face carefully; thoroughly. Clearly looking for something she wasn't finding right away. I inwardly cursed myself. I wasn't one to go laying my problems on other people. I only got help when I felt like this. Physicality I could handle; anger, rage, outwardly-displayed emotions. But the inner stuff, the strongest feelings I couldn't control, it scared me. Because nothing made it go away. I guessed it was a form of depression, reaching back to the days that were especially bad in my family. It made me want to curl up in a ball and hide beneath the blankets on my bed, and maybe binge on chips and guacamole.

And I hated it.

"Have you taken any medication for this?" she questioned, already reaching for her notepad.

"Yes," I said, halting her movements. "It never works."

She chewed on her lip and sighed. "You still aren't giving me much to work with here, Lily. It kind of sounds like you don't want help."

And maybe that was it. Maybe I was just this masochistic mess, and that was why I loved keeping it all bottled up. "I'm not just here to talk about me."

She leaned back, nodding. "There it is. Alec then, I presume?"

"Yes," I whispered. "What's wrong with him, Elsie? Where did he come from? Why can't he remember why he came to my grandfather?"

She reached over and set her hand atop mine. "I don't know. Nobody does. And until he finally remembers, I don't think he ever will. It's my job to get him to that point, to help him along the way. But in the end, only Alec can jump that final hurdle."

I nodded. All of this was making my head hurt. "Thanks, Dr. Harding."

"It was my pleasure, Lilia. And if you ever want to talk, you're welcome any time."

"Thanks."

I left her room, hearing her dial somebody on the phone as the door closed behind me. I wasn't feeling any better about anything. Maybe I just needed to learn how to have fun. I was severely lacking in knowledge on that subject.

I got in my car and started on the way back home.

Or, perhaps, I just needed a nap.

~*~

I slept a lot when I was in one of these foul moods. And it wasn't something my parents appreciated.

I remembered one instance, a few years back, when it was especially bad. All I did was sleep and refuse to go to school and not eat. They were so fed up with me, always wondering why I was nothing like my perfect sister. "Get up and do something with your life, Lily," they would say. Or, "Your sister's head cheerleader, why don't you try out for a school activity?" "How come you're just lying around when you're sister's out changing the world?" "Why can't you be exactly like Jasmine, Lily?" It became tiring after a while. Because the fact of the matter was, I couldn't be like her. I never would be. And that, to them, was unacceptable.

Did my parents offer up the love and support they were supposed to?

No. They sent me to a shrink who cared only about the money, and when I complained to them about this, they told me to "shape up and quit being a wimp".

Go figure.

So, when my grandfather came to me-interrupting a very successful nap, if I might add-saying my mother was on the line, I was content to take the phone only to chuck it out the window. And yet, part of me was curious to hear what they had to say. I wasn't going to lie; a big majority of me was always hoping that they would see the error of their ways and apologize and promise to love and cherish me equally with my sister.

But the chances of such a phenomenon happening were slim to none, and I wasn't quite sure why I kept deluding myself into thinking it would happen.

"Why are they calling me?" I asked him, which was kind of a stupid question. To check up on you, make sure you were doing okay. That would have been the sensible answer. But there was more to it, I knew. There was always more to it with them being who they were and me being who I was.

"Just talk to them," my grandfather implored, handing me the phone. He knew of the sketchy relationship between me and my parents, and how unfairly I was treated. Being the saint he was, he constantly hoped it would mend eventually, work itself out. But optimism didn't always work. Some things were meant to stay shitty.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Can you shut the door on your way out? There might be some screaming."

His mouth quirked to the side in concern but he nodded. I didn't put the phone to my ear until I was sure he was downstairs. "Hello?" I spoke tonelessly.

"Lilia."

The biting tone of my mother had me grinding my teeth together. "Yes?"

"This dramatic charade is over. It's time for you to pack up your bags and come home."

Her words prickled my skin, struck at something deep within me that was so sick and tired of her. Of all of them. Heck, of the entirety of Nevada. "Why?"

"Why? Well, your sister is featured in a pageant that will get television coverage, plus she's been signed on for modeling school. You should be here supporting and learning from her."

"Tell Jasmine I'm so fucking happy for her."

"Lily, language! Your sister doesn't speak like that."

"Well, I'm not my sister!" I exploded, silence filling the gaps after my loud exclamation. "I'm not Jasmine, I will never be Jasmine, and I don't ever want to be Jasmine, do you understand me?"

"Lilia Matthews! You will apologize right now!"

"For what?" I cried incredulously. "Refusing to be a clone of my sister? Because I won't apologize for that. All you and Dad every give me is crap for being my own person and I'm sick and tired of all that shit. I'm not changing, and if you don't like it, I can't see that we have anything more to say to each other."

She huffed. "Well. Either you bring your butt home on the next plane out, or you can consider yourself no longer a part of this household."

My heart panged. My throat clogged up. "Mom-"

"Make the choice, Lily."

The way she said my name was pretty much the deciding point. It was callous, harsh like a curse. Unemotional, with no attachment whatsoever. Like she was talking about the scum on the bottom of her shoe, not her daughter.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, then," I whispered, and hung up the phone. It took an immense amount of restraint to keep from hurling it at the wall.

My eyes became all bleary, and I pressed my fingertips to my cheeks to discover with considerable horror that I was crying. Dammit. The last thing I wanted to do was get emotional over my fucked-up family, but who wouldn't? They were my family. That call should have gone a completely different way. She should have been sweet, and kind, and we should have shared stories about how our days went. She would have put Dad on the phone and we would have talked sports or something, and then my sister would cut in and proclaim how much she missed me and I would reciprocate and it would leave me smiling, not in tears.

But that world was a fantasy, built on wishful desires I could not attain. And that was the saddest part of all.

I bounded from my room, racing down the stairs, hoping to avoid any contact with my grandfather. It was darkening outside, which felt too fast, but then again I had slept most of the day away.

"Lily? Lily, is everything okay?"

Goddammit, I thought, frozen by the front door. I didn't want to turn around and display to him the heart-ache ravaging my system. But ignoring him raised a few red flags, too.

"Are you going somewhere?"

I slid into my shoes, pulling my hair free from its ponytail so it would curtain my face and hide the tearstains. "Out," I managed in a firm voice. "For a drive. I'll be back."

"Do you want to-"

I didn't allow him to finish that sentence. I darted out the door and into the dark confines of my car, peeling out of the driveway and not looking back.

I just needed to calm down.

My headlights pierced through the dark haze settling over Heart. I decided to take the back roads, which were nothing but woods. It was calming, in a way. Relaxing for the senses. My fingers still held a death grip on the wheel and my heart was racing, but the tears had stopped.

I forced myself to think about good things; happy things. And for some reason Rhys, Emma, and Skyler popped into my head. And it made me smile. It was good to know that just because my family was shitty, not all families were that way. Watching Rhys and Emma you could just tell they would be great. You could tell Skyler was one lucky little kid. And I hoped to be there, watching, and I hoped to learn. I hoped one day I would have a family, kids of my own, and I could do the opposite of everything my parents did to me. My children would be loved, they would be cherished, and they would have my unfailing support.

That was how it was supposed to work, right? When even the world was against you, you were supposed to have your family.

But the only person standing in the corner of my ring was me.

I drove for a good fifteen minutes, all around the back woods of Heart, North Carolina. When I deemed it a good time to return and save my grandfather a heart attack, I spun around and started back, and saw something in the road.

"Shit!" I hissed, stomping on the break and coming to a screeching halt. I squinted through my windshield at the form illuminated by my headlights. I let out a long breath. Not a person, but-a shoe? What the hell?

I sat back, frowning at that shoe turned over on the road, just sitting there. It could have been a hiking mishap, or a churlish scheme from a juvenile.

Or not, my mind offered, as the longer I stared at that shoe the more familiar it became. And I was not too fond of where my thoughts headed.

"Aw, hell," I muttered, switching off the car and sliding out. Alec. It was Alec's shoe. What in God's name was he doing all the way out here? I didn't pretend to think I had even a clue what went on with that kid, but come on. This seemed a bit much.

I crouched down and picked up the shoe. It was his thick boot, the laces untied and the soles caked with mud. I stood with it dangling from my finger, facing a patch of trees. I edged closer, eyebrows disappearing into my hairline when I saw that it veered off into a steep hill of overgrowth.

He wouldn't have, I thought dreadedly as I imagined him adventuring down the hill. Even so, I tested the underbrush, finding it gave way easily beneath me. There was a path of tousled brush, and I sighed in agitation. Excellent. Knowing he could be down there, I couldn't just not go look.

Yes, you can, my conscience reminded me. You can get back in your car and head back and forget all about him.

I could.

But I wouldn't.

I spouted a million curses in my head as I slowly eased my way down the slope, envisioning a hundred different ways to kill Alec when I finally got to the bottom. Maybe I would just strangle him. That seemed self-satisfying.

After nearly cutting open my foot and getting clocked by an over-hanging branch, I made it to the bottom. I brushed off my shirt and searched the area, knowing I couldn't have come less prepared. It was dark, and all I had was my eyes. No light source of any kind.

You see, this is what happens when you act on your impulses.

I kindly told my brain to "Shut the fuck up" and continued my arguably futile search and rescue.

"Alec?" I hissed into the silent night, peering behind the thick trunk of a tree. "Alec?"

Nothing. I ventured a little farther out, telling myself I would remember which direction I came from but knowing deep down I would not. Oh, well. One crisis at a time.

"Alec!" I shouted, a little louder. That aroused some rustling from my right. I turned on it, peering at the mound of bushes there. I edged closer and felt this irrational wave of relief when I saw the clone of the shoe in my hand sticking out from behind a bush.

But of course, that relief dissolved quickly when the owner of the shoe came into view.

"Holy shit, Alec," I muttered, stepping into full view. He was leaning up against a tree, looking in considerable pain. His face was scratched up, his jeans leg was torn, and there was a lot of blood coming from beneath the tear.

Keep it in, Lily, I scolded myself, swallowing down the bile. But, damn, that was a lot of blood.

"You found my boot," he mumbled deliriously. His eyes were dazed. Did he hit his head?

"How long have you been here?" I questioned, kneeling by him. I forgot about everything that had manifested between us in the last few days. There was just him there, hurt and bleeding and dazed, and the fact that I had seemed to have a hero complex. And it was flaring up seeing him so helpless.

"Dunno," he garbled out. I was no doctor, but I figured he must've had some form of a head injury.

"Can you stand?" I asked, surprised at the gentleness in my voice. But I couldn't help it. He was disoriented, looking lost, like a small child in an amusement park without their parents. It tugged at the empathetic strings inside of me.

He nodded, and I helped him to his feet. He tested out his injured leg and hissed in pain. Right. So no walking on the bloody mess that was his right calf.

"Take it easy," I told him, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and bearing most of the weight on his injured side. "Is there an easier way out of here?"

"Is a little less steep o'er there," he slurred, head lolling slightly against mine. I clenched my teeth and started in the general direction, hoping he didn't completely lose consciousness on me before we got to the car. That was the last thing I needed. For somebody so tall and lean, he was surprisingly heavy.

I found the hill he had referred to, and with difficulty hoisted him up. I felt I deserved a medal of some kind when I dumped him in the passenger side seat and hurried around the hood of the car to the driver's side. The situation wasn't making any sense, but I couldn't exactly stop and interrogate Alec, especially considering he had passed out the moment I sat his ass on the seat. It would have to wait, but I was determined to put the pieces togethe. Did it have anything to do with him going completely berserk yesterday? Was it connected with that mindless look in his eyes? Did it give any reason as to why he was senselessly smashing his fist into the wall?

Alec, I was beginning to understand, was made up of unanswerable questions and dark enigmas. He was an enigma, scary and intriguing, and that frightened me.

What should have taken about fifteen minutes took six at the speeds I was travelling. I rolled into the driveway, the lights in the house dark except for the dim glow of the kitchen. The caring action struck me straight through the heart. My grandfather, it appeared, refused to give up on me. And that offered me some hope.

"Come on, wake up," I said, slapping his cheek slightly. He groaned, eyelashes fluttering. "Wake up, Alec. You need to get inside."

His eyelids did part, and I helped him out of the car and into the house. I set him on the table, handed him a glass of water, and told him to drink it in small-emphasis on small­-sips. I located the first aid kit and got to work, hoping to get it done before my grandfather realized I had opened an impromptu clinic in the kitchen.

"I'm going to have to cut your pants," I told him, as the only option was him taking them off and I was staying far away from that. He didn't respond, so I took that as an affirmative. I grabbed the scissors and relieved him of the lower portion of his pants leg. I whistled lowly. The good news was the blood had clotted, and he didn't appear to need stitches, however miraculous that was. The bad news? It. Was. Everywhere. Some fresh, some crusted and old, and I had to take a few gulps of breath to keep the contents of my stomach down.

Blood and me?

We didn't get along exceptionally well.

It had to have been at least ten minutes before I managed to clear his leg of blood. I disinfected it, drawing sharp gasps of pain from Alec. I wrapped it up in thick gauze, knowing that was the best I could do. At least it seemed to be the extent of the injuries. Everything else was just minor cuts and scrapes.

"Tired," he mumbled.

"I bet you are, Dora the Explorer," I muttered tiredly, stifling a yawn. "Come on and let's get you up to bed."

It was a slow process, but eventually we made it to his bedside and he flopped down. I propped his leg up on pillows, trying to emphasize on the fact that if he jostled it too much he might reopen it, and if he did that and needed stitches I would none-too-kindly let him bleed out for disobeying me. I wasn't sure if he was listening or not.

When he was situated I straightened, planting my hands on my hips. All in all, considering the circumstances, not too bad.

"I found it."

I snapped my gaze toward Alec's face. His eyes were closed, and he was drifting off. "Found what?" I asked urgently, stepping closer.

But he said nothing more, and gave no indication of continuing.

Fine, I thought. I would just stick around.

I wasn't leaving until he told me just what the hell it was he was doing out in the back woods of Heart.

Did I have any obligation to him?

Hell, no. He was vile and vindictive and more than a pain in the ass.

And yet staring at his cut-up face, at his fists that remained clenched even in his sleep . . .

I couldn't bring myself to leave.