Take A Shot--Hamilton one shots

The Eye of The Hurricane Pt.1

Alex stared down at his wrist with regret. He blinked and when he opened his eyes he was still right there. In his bathroom sitting on his toilet. The name 'John' was carved into his wrist, missing the n. He turned his gaze to the razor blade in his hand. It was already darkened with some of his fresher blood. He had wrapped a cloth around the cuts, but the pain wasn't enough. He deserved more. More for what he had done to John. More for what he had done, ever. He was an awful person that deserved to die. He shakily lifted his left hand, bringing it closer and closer to his right wrist. The razor blade bit into his skin and Alex sighed with satisfaction. The pain shot up his arm in a way that made Alex feel good. Bad good, but good none the less. Good because he knew that this was nothing compared to the pain he had put John through. Good because he knew this was the closest he'd get to death without the whole dying fiasco. He pulled the razor blade out of his arm and wrapped the cloth around this newer fresher cut that formed the beginning of the letter n. It wasn't too deep, so Alex felt fine. He took a deep breath before bringing the razor blade back down to his wrist. With defiance he cut into his wrist firmly, pushing the blade deeper than before. He was getting closer and closer to his hand as he carved the n. He shivered with pain and discomfort as the blade touched his vein. He felt slightly worried when the razor came out of his arm and he saw how deep the cut went into his veins. "Sh*t." He murmured to himself, shaking slightly. "Hey Siri." He had kept his phone nearby, but couldn't move the cloth from his wrist to grab his phone. "Call John."

"Calling... Thom." Siri responded.

"No!" Alex moved his hand and new waves of pain shot up his arm, immobilizing him. His blood dripped onto the floor and rug. He worried that his mom was going to see the blood on the rug. Suddenly he felt woozy, the loss of blood was going to his head. He heard his phone ring and get picked up.

"What do you want?" Thomas asked angrily.
Alex slipped off the toilet into a pool of his own blood. "Help." He said in a quiet voice, his arm bleeding all over the place. He felt as if he was in a cartoon, or a movie with very bad special effects because his blood was spurting everywhere.

"Alex?" Thomas' voice rang through the phone and echoed through the bathroom.

Alex tried to get up but he couldn't move, the pain too intense. "Help." He repeated, quieter this time.

"James, I think something's wrong with Alex." Thomas said, slightly muffled.

"Who cares?" James responded through a mouthful of falafel.

Thomas thought for a moment before responding. "I do." He said before turning back to the phone. "Alex, I'll be right over." He assured him.
Alex tried to make a noise but he couldn't force his vocal cords to work. Nothing worked. His eyes fluttered closed but he fought to keep them open. His world began to become spotty, black splotches coming into view. He slipped away from his consciousness, his head dipping into his own blood.