Drowning in a River of Denial (Jalex)

Hello!

I'm not sure if this is good or not but I'll write more if anyone wants to read more. Enjoy! 

As stated in the description, there is some touchy subjects involve so please, take note of that.

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I shot up, hand over heart, breathing ragged. Sighing shakily, I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. I glanced at the time, my vision barely focusing as I read the lit up red numbers; four forty-five in the morning. It had happened again, I had yet another dream- or memory about Alex.

The sun had only just began retreating from the sky and the sky was that beautiful blend of colours; navy blue, peach, yellow, purple. I layed content with my bestfriend, Alex, in silence, the only sounds were the very few cars that went past and our breathing. Only the occasional comment was made about the sky or the temperature.

The air was chilly and nipped at our exposed skin, both of our noses a light shade of red. Despite how truly cold it was, we had refused to leave where we lay. It wasn't out of stubborness or laziness, it was like we didn't want to move because leaving where we were would disturb the moment and something could go wrong. Me being only ten years old, Alex eleven, we didn't even care about the fact we could get sick or suffer the consiquences of being in the cold.

But no matter how much we tried to avoid ruining the blissful moment, I knew it was going to end. And not nicely. This is when the memory turns into complete shit. 

"Jack! Did you not hear your mother?" My father's voice boomed, the shitty back door clattering against the wall after being thrown open. My heart began to beat at a rapid pace as I pushed myself off the grass as fast as I could. 

"No, s-sorry, Dad," I stammered, trying to be as calm as possible. Alex wasn't supposed to see what went on behind closed doors, he wasn't supposed to see the monster I called my father. Alex hadn't been to my house before that, it was either his or the park. I guessed he'd understand why after this. 

"Dinner's ready, Jack," He stated sternly, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed. 

"Okay, I'll come in, in just a moment," I told him. The dirty glare he gave me indicated that 'a moment' wasn't good enough. With one more harsh look, he stormed inside.

I turned back to Alex, feeling a terrible pain as I looked into his now widened eyes. "Um, Alex, I have dinner, you should probably go home,"

Nodding, he gathered up his bag and said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow," 

But we didn't talk tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week. We haven't talked since then. I was sixteen now and Alex was seventeen. My father decided that talking to Alex or seeing Alex was banned. I didn't dare ignore his warning. I wasn't going to endure the extra pain and beatings.

My breathing had somewhat evened out and I was wide awake. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I pushed myself up and stumbled on my shaky legs down the hall, making sure to be as quiet as possible. I opened the creaking door slowly and stepped onto the cold white tiled flooring, shutting the door behind me with an almost silent click.

I rested my hands against the sides of the sink, taking in a few deep breaths. I was unable to resist the urge to grab the razor from the cabinet above the sink and pulled one out one from the very back. A twisted smile crept onto my face at the thought of releasing the emotional pain and replacing it with the physical sensation that was self-harm.

I slid down the wall next to the door, shimmying out of my grey sweatpants. Feeling over the bumpy, scarred skin on my thighs, I pressed the razor against the most healed area, just under my boxers and glided the sharp metal across it quickly, wincing at the cool, harsh touch. Blood beaded only moments later. I repeated the motion multiple times until there was no more damage in that area that could be done.