Alexis

Parliamo di Terapia/Sarà Amata

Song- Big Girls Don't Cry, Fergie

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Talk of Therapy/Sara Amata

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When I woke up, I thought I was allowed to go home but that didn't happen. They checked everything they needed to, gave me more medication, and told me to sleep. They said I had the possibility of discharge when I'd wake up. I hated how they treated me. I felt like a criminal. You'll have the possibility of parole. It wasn't hard to criminalize myself with my thoughts. From the dosages of medicine, I feel asleep easily.

My eyes opened to harsh light when I heard a door open and close. You'd think they turn off some lights as to not disrupt patients but no. The door loudly shut. I blinked, trying to focus my eyes. I felt a pressure on my hand so I glanced down. Tattoos stood out. I blinked a few more times. I knew those tattoos. I knew those rings. I knew that hand. I felt another hand gently caress my forehead as if it was trying to delicately remove hair from my face. My wide, tired eyes quickly snapped over to the body to my left. My eyes landed on the necklaces first. I know that cross necklace. It has touched my face during intimate moments.

"Lex?" he gently called but I refused to meet his eyes. My own started to sting.

God– he's really here.

Why?

Why why why why why why why why why why why why why?

AHHHH! GOD!

My lips trembled when he called my name again. "Baby?" he whispered.

Why did he say that? In English? Why? Because his fiancee could properly carry his baby, and I couldn't carry Conor's? Why? Why would he do that to me?

I quickly sat up. My stomach cramps intensified for a moment. My lower body didn't appricate sudden movements when it was trying to heal. I saw spots for a moment. I moved too quickly. I disregarded the damage I was repeating. He needed to leave. Right now. I could not see him. Ever again. Ever, ever, ever!

Whoever called him will never be forgiven! Who called him before Rose did? Dammit, why didn't I fucking listen!

Alarmed by my movements, Vincent stood up. He removed his hands from me only to hover around my body. I snapped my watery eyes to Vincent's eyes. I glared at him. I ignored how sensitive his eyes were (they never looked like that before. Vincent's gaze was always intense).

"Get out!" I forced out, my voice not yet awake. My tone cracked. Vincent furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off before he could speak. "I said get out!" I yelled and shoved his chest when he attempted to grab me.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. He wasn't getting the hint. Do I have to drag him out? I will! I will not be tested anymore!

Fuck the tests from above! I give the tests! I'm the teacher.

Vincent's eyebrows shot up when I attempted to stand up. "Alexis! Stop–"

"Get out! Get out! Get!" I pushed his hands away as I put my weight on my feet. Except, I forgot that I've been undergoing a lot of surgery and whenever I used the bathroom (the only time I've stood up) I had a nurse with me because I needed help standing and walking. My legs buckled and gave out under me. Vincent's hands grabbed my body and held me against him. "No!" I yelled, my voice cracking.

I swear to God, Alexis, if you cry, we're committing suicide. I'm not even kidding. It won't be an attempt, it'll be the real deal. You'll meet your fucking maker, in Hell.