Alex drew her blanket up to her chin and shifted her body so that she was gazing up at the ceiling, silently pleading for it to explain everything that was happening to her lately. Unfortunately, the ceiling remained silent to her prayers. A few days ago, she would have never believed Michael was growing soft on her, actually letting her go a day without a single punch to her face. And for her to be defending him as if she cared for him, that was too surreal to be true.
Defending him? She thought to herself in disbelief, How could I have done that?
Just thinking about it made her feel a twinge of regret. She turned over on her side to gaze into empty space.
She never would have thought that things could get anymore complicated than that. After that event, she knew that she would never see Michael as the proud, obnoxious, relentless man she always made him out to be but now, he seemed to only be a broken, dead, depressed boy. Somehow, she knew that she had crossed a thin line between love and hate.
Heaving a heavy sigh, she shifted back onto her back to continue her weary gazing up at the bleary ceiling. She knew she couldn't tell anyone about this and knowing how everyone acted around the school with their constant gossiping, eventually, she knew it would get to Monica. So truthfully, there was no point in telling her before them. What would she even say to her?
'Hey Monica. I forgot to tell you that I just defended the guy that used to bully me day after day all because I felt sorry for him!' Yep. That's the way. Alex sarcastically thought.
It pissed her off how although she hadn't seen him in days, he was still on her mind on a daily basis. His curly ebony hair made her angry, his dark almond-shaped eyes made her angry, his smile, the way he talked, the way he walked, taunted her, punished her, tormented her; all of it simply infuriated her. Even just thinking about him doing these things when he was nowhere near her was enough to make her heart pound and her palms to sweat.
She clenched her hands into tight fists, digging her nails into her palms and painting an image of his gloating face with his overly-confident smirk. She imagined kicking him, spitting down on him for making her suffer for so long. She could see him struggling up to his wobbly feet out of his own puddle of damaged pride and she took her foot and sharply kicked him back down. At that moment, she was the one gloating instead of him with his very own overly-confident smirk plastered on her face.
It was times like these when Alex realized just how much alike they were.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips and bitterly, she decided that she would not lose her hours of sleep to her enemy. It was only eleven at night and she knew that it was going to be a long sleepless night filled with thoughts of putting herself in Michael's position as the bully instead of his victim.
Early the next morning, Alex woke up groggy and disoriented. Absentmindedly, she snatched her phone off her dresser and looked through her message box.
No messages.
She sighed deeply and tossed her phone on her bed. She sat there in complete and utterable silence.
Sighing, she decided to do her usual morning routine; brushed her teeth, washed her face, and took a nice long hot shower. After her shower, she returned to her bedroom and glanced down at her phone where it reminded her just how unpopular she was.
Oh well.
She decided that she needed to distract herself more by cleaning the entire apartment from top to bottom. Since her cousins were at the store with Aunt Becky and Uncle Joe had the morning shift at his job, Alex had the entire apartment to herself. She organized, dusted, polished, scrubbed, swept, mopped, readjusted, and even alphabetized the pantry and cabinets. She had spent so long cleaning, the sprays that she used were practically seeping through her skin. Even though she was busying herself by cleaning, Alex couldn't help but stray back to the other day's events.
She defended him, Michael, the merciless bully, the one who was hugging and kissing her one moment and bashing her face into the ground the next. He was an unpredictable young man with his two-face personality and blind rage. She never knew what he was going to do next. She hated surprises after all.
Alex jolted out of her thoughts, realizing that she had been daydreaming whilst holding the vacuum in one hand that was roaring away. She instantly clicked it off with her socked foot.
The silence seemed to be louder than the vacuum.
She shoved the vacuum and all of the cleaning supplies that she had used previously back into the closet and walked down a flight of stairs into the living room.
I kinda miss the little turd...
Feeling that she needed more time to distract herself from Michael, she decided to go out to run some errands.
Sweat trickled down Michael's neck as he concentrated on hitting the bag as hard as he could, his mind silently painting an image that it was Alex instead of an inanimate object.
"Come on, Jackson! Make that bag feel sorry that it was ever made!" Michael's coach shouted at him.
Michael's bandaged hands collided with the firm material of the punching bag over and over in an unending pattern. Inhaling and exhaling heavily, he struggled to keep steady but he felt as if his body was no longer under his own will.
"Come on, Michael! You can do better!" his coach shouted once more.
Michael huffed breathlessly once he missed the bag and stumbled forward. All of the strength in his punch had hit nothing but thin air all because of a loss of concentration, because of her.
"You idiot!" Michael shouted huskily, "You made me miss with your damn rambling!"
"I think you're the idiot here. You're the one who loses concentration whenever an encouraging voice tries to motivate you! Imagine how you're going to do in a real match when thousands of people are yelling put-downs!"
"How will I'll ever get that chance when you're interrupting my practices?!" Michael shot back.
"I'm trying to help you, Michael. That's what a trainer does."
Michael's eyes bore into the man's, No way I'm gonna deal with this shit.
"I'm outta here." And without another word, Michael was heading towards the locker room to retrieve his belongings.
"You're pathetic, Michael! Pathetic!" his ex-trainer shouted after him but his voice was a mere disturbance in the back of Michael's mind. "You're never gonna get anywhere in life with that kind of attitude!"
Michael froze on the spot. Without turning around, he spat in a cold voice, "That's Mr. Jackson to you."
Michael had taken boxing for one reason and for one reason only: to get his mind off of Alex. Ever since he had met that nuisance to society, she had been on his mind 24/7, from dawn until dusk, day to day, everyday, every hour, every minute, every second, all the time. But boxing only seemed to increase the chances of him thinking about her. During practices, all he could do was imagine beating her into a pulp, watching her writhe in her own pool of blood and begging him for mercy. It was a wonder why he ever took up boxing at all. From the very beginning, he knew he was going to quit.
It was because Alex always managed to ruin his concentration even when she was nowhere in sight. Her being on his mind was driving him insane and the only that kept him from doing anything too rash was imagining her in pain.
If that was love, Michael didn't know what hate would be.
As Michael stepped outside into the frigid, crisp night air, he heaved a soft sigh and silently watched as his breath swirled in front of his face and vanished before his eyes.
He hitched his bag over his shoulder and strolled down the barren street that led to his home. He idly stepped over the bits of debris scattered on the pavement and absentmindedly avoided the shards of bloodstained glass that had been used in gang fights. It made Michael cringe every time he passed the alley he had beaten Alex up in. He could remember how terrified she looked as his fists came raining down on her at an incessant speed, how much pleasure he had felt once he saw that her lip had split and her nose was bleeding.
It was an odd interest he had, enjoying other people's pain but he couldn't help himself. Seeing people in pain gave him pleasure and seeing Alex in pain gave him the upmost feeling of delight with himself, sometimes delight that transformed into pride of himself. It wasn't normal, he knew that. Not that he cared though. As long as he was satisfied with his works, he couldn't care less what normal was.
In the distance, Michael noticed a figure striding their way down the street. Their walk was somehow familiar to him, almost reminding him of...
Alex!
Michael beamed inconsiderably, grinning so cheekily that it seemed as if his face was going to burst from the tautness. He felt as if it had been ages since he had last seen her and seeing her now refreshed the image he had of her in his mind. She looked so different without a limp in her walk (that was presumably caused by him).
Just when he was about to call out to her, he noticed a group of boys emerge from the shadows and inch after Alex who remained oblivious to their arrival. It was not until one of the boys yanked her inside of an alley did she scream out for help.
Michael acted quickly by bolting down the street into the direction of the blood-curdling scream but then abruptly came to a halt at the entrance of the alley as he watched the leader of the group start the proceedings with a strike to the stomach. With that, the other boys joined in with their fair share of punishment.
What was he doing? Was he seriously about to save the person that he was supposed to hate with every fibre of his mortal being? He couldn't allow himself to do this, to save her life just because she had unfortunate timing to walk alone in the middle of the night. He just couldn't. It was her own damn fault. But he couldn't allow some dumb boys to beat up on her either, could he? That was his job.
Damn straight.
Tossing his bag off of his shoulder onto the pavement, Michael stormed furiously over to the group of boys huddled around Alex's trembling form.
With all the the rage he felt surging within him, Michael ferociously shouted, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
As if on cue, all of the boys whirled around in a panic to face Michael, all thinking that he was a policeman but once they realized who it was, they knew that they would much rather have a policeman before them than Michael.
"Scram!" one of the boys shouted.
Michael watched in satisfaction as the boys scrambled out of the alley and whilst they were running, Michael tripped the one who had started it all, causing him to land flat on his twisted face. The boy stumbled back up to his wobbly feet and whimpered like an injured pup as he darted out of the alley.
Michael was sort of glad that he had found Alex but at the same time, he wished that he hadn't.
"Oh Alex..." he sighed.
He strolled over to the trembling girl at a steady pace and kneeled down beside her. There was so much blood all around her, so much that it seemed as if it were deep enough to take a quick swim in. And the damage seemed as if it had taken hours instead of minutes.
"Hey there," Michael greeted her softly in an attempt to not startle her with his presence.
She must have recognized his voice because she had instantly began to whimper in fright of him. She frantically attempted to get to her feet to escape from him but it was to no avail and she ended up going limp in his arms. He laughed under his breath.
"It's alright. Calm down," Michael hushed somewhat sheepishly, "Sheesh. I save your life and this is how you repay me? Some gratitude that is."
"Sorry..." she murmured almost inaudibly, "I thought... you were gonna beat me up..."
Oh, wouldn't I love to beat you up right now...
Michael smiled faintly at the thought of hearing her whimper in fright of his blind wrath. He couldn't wait until her injuries healed so that he could show her just how much he missed beating up on her.
"I would but I just came from boxing practice and to be honest, I'm pooped."
Michael noticed her lip twitch at his reply and he could have sworn that she was attempting to smile at him but it was all too quick to make certain.
"I'm sorry..." she said again.
"It's nothing to apologize for. Just stop getting caught being alone. Anyone can take advantage of you when you're outnumbered. Especially when you are, uh... you."
She nodded faintly, drifting in and out of consciousness, "Okay..."
Noticing that she was still bleeding heavily, he decided to take action and actually attempted to help her.
"Here. Hold onto me," he instructed.
At a slow yet cautious pace, she slipped her arms around his neck and embraced him with all of the strength that she could muster. Suddenly, she burst into tears and Michael felt slightly embarrassed even though there was no one around to witness the scene.
Why is this girl crying on me? Why do I keep doing this? Every time I help her with something, she always ends up crying on me! She's such a sensitive punkass!
Idly and forcefully, he assured her with words of comfort as he drew himself from the ground, holding her tightly against his chest and angrily wondering why he was there in an alley instead of at home watching his favorite shows on TV.
Her sobs began to soften as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and that's when Michael felt his face tint with a dainty shade of pink.
If the guys see me with her like this, Michael thought wanting to cry himself, I would never hear the end of it.
"You're such a dork," he murmured sheepishly but deep down inside, he was secretly happy to have her this close against him again.
It had been forever since he had last felt her chest against his own...
Author's Chapter Notes:
Enjoy! Sorry for the wait!
Chapter End Notes:
This is really getting annoying... I don't like updating from iPhone without my italics! I need help! Sigh... Please review!