Well, We're Not Alone Now - Book One - Alex Turner

Burn In Our Mistakes

-Burn In Our Mistakes-

"Your face saving promises

Whispered like prayers

I don't need them

No, I don't need them"

-My Skin-Natalie Merchant-

15th of August 2012

Chest to chest, nose to nose, palm to palm, we are just that close. Eye to eye, cheek to cheek, side by side, he is sleeping next to me. Arm in arm, dusk to dawn with the curtains drawn we lay next to each other. My eyes are wide open, watching him, time and her pass lightning fast before me. I don't know where she is but I can feel her watching us. I try to turn to him, asking him to hold me, tell me it's all just in my dream. He sleeps on. The room lightened as an invisible beam of sun comes in through the window. I watched paralysed as the door opens, memories of us flashing in and out of focus on the white walls. His smile, my laugh, his touch, my feelings portrayed openly on my face. They disappear as she appears and I sit up in alarm. Her cat like eyes watch me and I am transfixed. She shifts her gaze to the one who lays beside me. I begin to shake my head, trying my best to get the words out. No, you can't have him. He's mine. But I already know it's too late and white colour blares against my eyelids and things become too real.

I woke with a start. Eyes wide and staring at the ceiling above me. For a moment I floated in surprised innocence. Then like a thief in the night my memories came back and stole what contentment I had left in me. Oh god. I stayed still. The house was silent around me. Bits and pieces of last night stumbled drunkenly into my mind, mixing together with the dream I had just witnessed. I had cried. And cried. Cried until there wasn't an ounce of me that could stomach any more tears. There had been shouting from down stairs, Matt's voice raised loud and frightening and Al's a low rumble that only reached my ears every once in a while. I had blocked it from my mind. With automatic movements started to finish what I had began, packing all my belongings away. It made me realise how little I actually possessed. When we had moved here most of the furniture had come from Al's flat, the only stuff that I brought was my desk from my room. All the rest was clothes and the bits and bobs that you gather around you as you live. I stripped the whole of the upstairs of me, leaving it bare, only possessing what was left of him. He didn't venture upstairs and I didn't go downstairs. Matt did crack open the door as I was staring at a picture of me and Al sometime after midnight. I had screamed at him to leave me alone and not soon after I heard the front door open and close, the low rumble of his bike. I felt bad about it, but right now I didn't care what anybody else felt. All that I noticed was the hollow feeling of my whole body. All the energy and life that had once filled me had slipped away with Alex's words, leaving me alone with my grief. I was mourning. Mourning a death. The death of what we had been. An ice cold tear trickled down the from the corner of my eye, soaking into my hair where it spread across the pillow. I wiped under my eyes, getting rid of any more that wanted to fall. I would go mad if I cried anymore. My head throbbed. My body felt like I had been repeatedly kicked everywhere, eyes swollen and sore. Lights danced in front of me from the window. It still seemed to be morning, the sun wasn't that bright yet. I gingerly sat up, the cover pooling around my waist and swung my legs to the floor, setting my feet flat. I had no recollection of falling asleep. Pushing my hair out of my face I realised I was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. I needed to clean myself up. I needed to wash the tear tracks off my face, wash the dirt from my knees, wash the memories of his touch from my skin. Never would I let him set his hands on me again and I couldn't bare to have the stains of old ones on me. I stood and walked to the bathroom. I kept my face away from the mirror and stripped off. As I stepped into the shower, the bruise on my hip caught my eyes. I touched it softly, biting my lip to stop a moan escaping my mouth. I had hit him and now he'd left me one last mark on me too. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. What a mess. I left the bruise alone and turned on the water, the cold hitting me hard, making me cry out slightly. My eyes widened and my mind sharpened. I didn't bother to turn the warmth on, nothing could keep me warm today. I washed my hair, then stepped away, dripping onto the floor at my feet. I dried myself, then let myself look at my face in the mirror. The only way I could describe what I was seeing was to liken it to a worn rock you find on the beach. I looked away and walked back into the bedroom, unzipping a suitcase and staring down at the neatly folded clothes. I would leave him with an image to remember. One that would stick in his mind everytime he closed his eyes. Everytime he spoke her name he would remember me and hurt. I would make sure of that. The sadness that had pulled me down last night was now being rapidly replaced with a hot burning anger. I crouched and pulled what I needed out. Sitting on the bed, I pulled the socks up to my knees slowly, feeling the fabric tighten around my legs. Next I did up my bra and walked to the mirror, feet soft on the floor, make-up bag in my hand. I pulled the blood red lipstick out, lining my lips with the colour, puckering them and blowing a kiss to my reflection. Next I coloured my lashes with mascara, dabbing a small amount of eyeliner under and at the edges to give them a cat like quality. When I was finished I watched my image. It certainly wasn't a drastic change to how I had looked, but it wasn't just make up, it was my war make up. It was my protection, my war paint that would strike an ever lasting image into my enemies mind. Then again Alex wasn't my enemy, he was so much more than that. I completed my outfit with a midnight blue dress that finished above my knees, sleeves just brushing my wrists, and my old leather jacket. I left my hair down, falling over one shoulder. It curled as it dried. Picking up my phone I typed in the number for a cab. In a moment of clarity last night I went online and brought forwards my flight to this afternoon. It had cost a large amount to move it, but I had used his money. The least he could do for me is pay for my escape. The cab agency said it would probably take a whle to get there, but I said I was happy to wait. Happy wasn't the word really, but it was the only one that worked in that moment. I put the phone away and cast an eye around the room, doing a last check for anything else I had forgotten. Of course there was a lot of my stuff downstairs, my CD's, records and other things that I couldn't count. I would get someone to send them to me. Brea would help me, I knew I could trust her for her support. Seeing nothing, I picked up the biggest of my suitcases and opened the bedroom door, my old Doc Martens making a soft sound on the floorboards. I swallowed as I neared the ground floor. Where was he? My question was quickly answered when there was a noise from behind me as I got to the bottom step. I didn't dare look around and carried on in to the hall. I lent the suitcase up against the wall and walked back. He stood there. I raised my chin and met his eyes. What I found there shocked me. They were glassy with unshed tears, the rims red from what I could only assume was crying. I had never seen him cry before. Never had he shown any sign of it. He looked awful. My hand went to my stomach as it wallowed at the sight of his sadness. I opened my mouth, "My cab will be here in about twenty minutes, I'm leaving for home today."