JUST PRETEND ↠ ALEX SUMMERS ✔️ [EDITING]

Chapter 15

Devin still didn't talk to Alex, not after he found her almost dead in the bath. She couldn't stand the look of pity on his face. But at least she managed to shower more, clean her clothes, bring down her empty plates and talk to someone. But that someone couldn't talk back.

She was back in the boy's room, well it wasn't really a room, it was more of a morgue. Hank was making sure to keep him clean, even though it made him slightly uncomfortable. Devin knew she wasn't alone. Charles soon walked in with Hank, pausing his conversation when he saw her standing by the boy's head, brushing some of his tangled hair from his face.

"You're up?" Hank questioned.

"Yeah, washed, fed and dressed in clean clothes." She nodded back as she put the sheet back over his face.

"How are you feeling?" Charles pulled a slight grimaced face knowing how badly she had taken the boy's death.

"Not any better, but I'm living with it, it's what I have to do. It's how I heal mentally." Devin shrugged her shoulders.

"Mentally?"

"Yeah, physically I've healed, but emotionally and mentally I'm still in shock and mourning," she told him. "It's a long process, but three days ago, I realised that locking myself away wasn't the best option for me."

"Three days ago? What happened three days ago?"

"I had a bath and a lot of time to think."

"Well, I'm just glad you're out of that room, and that you finally cleaned up the mess." Hank smiled.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad..."

"Pretty bad? You literally had a small Eco-system evolving in your room from the amount of mess," Hank replied.

"You're not wrong." Devin nodded. "I'm going to go get some training in." She smiled lightly at them before walking passed them.

"Should we tell her?" Hank asked once she was out of earshot.

-

Devin spent almost three hours getting training in, she had a lot of catching up to do, and it was better to start now then put it off for later when she'd be too tired to do anything, well not necessarily tired but too lazy.

"Hey," she froze when she heard Alex mumble from behind her. She stopped punching the punching bag and slowly turned to look at him.

"Hi." She nodded, turning back to look at the bag swing slightly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I'm fine, Alex." She punched the bag again. Pushing him away was the only chance he had of being happy without her.

"If you don't want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don't just lie and say you're fine when you're not."

Devin held onto the punching bag and closed her eyes resting her forehead against it, breathing deeply in and out.

"I'm fine, Alex. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"What do you mean I don't have to worry about you anymore? I'm always going to worry, you're still my best friend..." There it was, the label she didn't want to have. She rubbed her forehead before turning to face him.

"I'm busy right now, why don't you find Raven? She's probably free." She shrugged before turning back around once more.

"Raven? Why would I go find Raven? Wait a minute..." Devin rolled her eyes wanting this slow torture to end. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? Of what? Of what, Alex? There's nothing to be jealous of, we're friends, nothing more." She shook her head and punched the bag.

"No. No stop running from this. I know I'm not the only one who feels something," he told her.

"What you feel is indigestion." She punched the bag once more before repeating the action with her other arm.

"I'm not sure if this is the guilt talking but this isn't you, this isn't you." She could hear him walk away, and close the door behind him. She let out a huff before punching the bag over and over until she managed to punch her right arm through the bag and out the other side. The sand pilling up on the ground. The same coloured sand from that place.

Devin shook her head for the umpteenth time. She wasn't going to let her mind be plagued with those memories any longer.

She wasn't going to let it destroy her.

She was going to fight.

Fight for him.