Thief - Alex Summers

Chapter 8

I couldn't sleep that night, the thoughts just kept buzzing through my head, entrapping me in a constant circuit. I sat up, breathing heavily and punched my pillow repeatedly. I usually got violent like that when I was angry. Not really violent but angry enough to make me want to hurt somebody, usually it would end up being myself but now I had no other way to get rid of it. I sat there in the dark, trying not to think of anything but to no avail. I walked into the bathroom, switched on the light and, blinking rapidly, looked in the speckled mirror. My eyes were splotchy and red, my pale skin a pasty shade that only pure exhaustion brings. I splashed water on my face and switched the light off again. Everything was so dark now my eyes were adjusted to the dull yellow light.

I face planted on my bed again and lay there for a moment, breathing in the smell of cotton.

"Tell me. Tell me who you are."

It was like he was still in the room, still saying those words. It scared me. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him. I could die facing Shaw and I wasn't scared of that. I was scared of letting someone in. It was stupid. I got up again and left the room, feeling slightly self-conscious padding down the corridor wearing only an oversized t-shirt and a pair of short shorts. It was freezing and I could understand why Charles hated it here. It was so isolated and two people could live here for months without even bumping into each other. I crept down the stairs, hoping that no one else was up at this time. Alex's door loomed ahead and I traveled towards it quickly and with purpose. I knocked on it, half expecting no one to answer.

"Come in." His voice was husky and deeper than usual. I pushed open the door and, closing it behind me, turned to face him. "Lyra! What are you doing here?"

"Please stop calling me that. You wanted to know everything so here I am to tell you what ever you want. My name is Ash Lyra Talbot. I am from Cambridge, England and I was going to kill myself when Charles and Erik found me."

"Shit. So if they hadn't found you then..."

"Yeah..."

"Why did you avoid me?"

"It's a long story so I guess I have to start from the beginning." My breathing was getting quicker and quicker.

"Hey hey come here." Alex beckoned to me from his bed and I obeyed. "Get in." He pulled back the covers and I got in rather awkwardly. We lay side by side silently for a moment before I began to explain.

"We moved to Chicago when I was nine and I never really lost the British accent. When I went to schools and when I did anything I was called Lyra. At home I was Ash. My father wanted me to be called Lyra so that's what he always called me. Eventually it just sort of caught on. Everyone except my brother called me Lyra. He called me Ash because he knew that was what I preferred. My brother was my best friend. He was the only one I had. Let's just say I'm not exactly the best at making friends."

"You said 'was', that he 'was' your best friend. What happened?" 

"He went to war and he used to bring back these gifts for me, little tokens from the places he went to and I would guess where he was. He escaped the shit show."

"What do you mean?" We were staring at the ceiling.

"Everyone knows cancer is bullshit for those who have it but they forget what it's like for those around it and those who don't get to be there for the ones they love. My mum got cancer when I was ten. She pulled through but she was never really the same. She sort of fazed me out, spent most of her time sitting in a chair. I doubt she's even noticed I've gone. My brother survived Iraq and pretty much everything. He was stabbed in an underpass on the way home from a bar when I was twelve. After that it just got worse. My father liked to drink more and he fell into his own father's habits. He would come home late and go into the cupboard to find his belt. It was always the same one and he would beat me." I sat up and lifted the back of my shirt, showing him the scars that littered my back. His fingers traced their paths, the shape of the buckle, the long white lines of my past, read by the rough callouses on his fingertips. I shivered at the lightness of his touch and he withdrew his hand scared of hurting me. I dropped my t-shirt and we both lay back again. Alex said nothing and I took it as my cue to continue. "I took up drinking at the age of 15. At first it was the stuff we could get illegally but when I was 18 I could pass easily for 21. Here I am 20 years old, sitting at a bar in Chicago at 1 in the morning, brandy in my hand and a gun in my bag talking to the barman. He was nice, British too. Charles and Erik just walked over and they told me about everything and then you met me. The reason I avoided you up until we trained together was because I had this dream." I took a deep breath and explained the dream. "I miss him you know. I miss my brother." Tears began to stream down my face and I turned away from Alex.

"I have a brother too." I felt his arms snaking around my waist, pulling me into his chest. "His name is Scott. He's not a mutant. I would do anything to protect him. He's my little brother and I love him. I haven't seen him in years. I have a little sister too, Hope, she's adorable and I love her so much, and I never told her that before I left. I would give anything to see them again."

"It's funny how that happens. We would never have said these things at the time, but now we would give anything to go back and say them now." I had leveled my breathing again and I turned to face him. He released me and we just lay there, staring at each other, mesmerized by one another's eyes. "Can I stay here tonight?" My voice was little more than a whisper.

"Yeah. Any time." We turned our backs to one another, not really needing to touch to know that we weren't alone, that we were going to be alright.