[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

Let Me In ✓

(Chironic Remix) Indili — Ainsi Bas La Vida
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"what brings us to tears will lead us to grace. our pain is never wasted." —Bob Goff
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The 30th of January, Year 2024.

     "Mr. Moskal, There are packages here delivered in your name." Says the receptionist from the first floor as soon as she connects to her boss' line.

     "Send them up through A1." He says, hanging up and paging Micheal immediately to be at the private elevator.

     The frail man stops what he's doing to attend to Petro's direct order. He stands by the elevator doors, waiting, clicking his pen and tapping his right foot impatiently. His eyes flit all over the place and he sighs, just waiting. A ding pierces the thick silence and the automatic doors slide open. Frayer moves quickly, announcing his presence and the man behind the stacked cart is of course startled.

     "I'll take this, thank you." He feigns a smile, putting his tablet on the sealed boxes, then pulling the man's job right out of his grasp.

     Stunned, he stutters, "O–okay... Uh... Sign... Sign this?" The delivery guy holds up a clipboard almost confused with his usual lines.

     Micheal signs in Petro's signature he was made to practice many times before, and now, both men are on their way. Micheal, unknowing to what may have caused the delivery guy to be in disarray, hopes the man survives his job, believing it to be a stressful day.

     Meanwhile, Alexa is on the roof where she has always been lately, making her appearance scarce in the building. She sits on her and Katya's spot on the large, concrete vent, staring into nothingness. She's still like the sky today of unmoving clouds and her eyes are sunken and dry like the heat on this windless day. Sleep deprived, her heart is thumping and she's breathing long, relaxed breaths, but she's conflicted. Conflicted because she's trying to shove down these feelings that she tried to avoid the very moment Phillip came into her life. These feelings that make her human.

     'Kat would hate me if she ever knew what I'm thinking.' Trying to avoid the tears and the sorrow, all those things that drives one crazy. She's out here, while her only girl friend is locked away, in the deepest, darkest corner of her room, bawling her eyes out.

     Alexa is scared to approach her.

     "Lexy."

     "Phillip." She cocks her head to the side but doesn't look at him.

     "What are you doing?" He asks quietly, coming to stoop in front of her.

     The way he asks shows that he knows her very thought process and mechanism. After all, he's experienced it before. Still, that doesn't mean he can tell exactly what's going through her head.

     His hit on the nail makes her heart catapult in her chest and she sucks in air sharply, as if life has begun to pump in through her vessels again. Thus her eyes grow wet and she suddenly wants to run.

     She turns her head away from him, croaking, "Nothing. How's Kat?

     "Haven't heard from her." He states, looking up at his partner. "I'm only worried about you."

     "How could you say that? How do you even have the guts to say that when I'm beating myself up for not caring." She grits out, trying to push back the overwhelming emotions.

     "Look at me." Phillip says and she hangs her head in shame, letting her hair curtain her face. He's glaring at the top of her head. "You're beating yourself up for not caring? Or, for trying not to care?" She shakes her head, clenching her jaw. He continues, soothingly, "It's okay to feel." Air gushes from between her lips. "Feeling is all a part of being human and if you don't let out what you feel, it'll keep piling up inside..." She stays silent, hiding the overflowing tears, listening. "Eventually, you'll pop..." He tells her, imitating an explosion with his hands, "Boom! Just like that."

     She sniffles when her nostrils clear up and a betraying stream of mucus begins to run down.

     He adds in a whisper, "It's okay to cry."

     However, her retort is sharp, "Shut up, Phillip." She lifts her head so fast, most of her hair clears away from her face and her eyes set on his face. "Ryan is already dead. What difference does it make if I cry? I don't see you shedding tears. Not even a drop."

     "That's because I've already cried and my eyes are now dry to the point where it's uncomfortable." He states flatly.

     She calms down, making no other comment. The shamefulness she felt earlier is now resonating inside of her in waves. Phillip is blind and his eyes get dry easily, yet he allowed himself to cry. He wasn't selfish with his emotions. He wasn't selfish for his own betterment. He let himself feel and is bearing the consequences of it.

     'So simple, it seems. So, why is it overly complex in my head?'

     "Lexy..." He reaches for her face and she pulls away.

     "I'm a horrible person." She breaks, sobbing.

     He's surprised that she has given in and airily refutes her words, "You're not."

     "I am. If you could know what I was thinking, you'd call me a horrible person." She cries. "If you could become me for a day..."

     He takes a quick seat beside her on the vent and brings her into his arms. "Then let me into your head for a day. Tell me your thoughts."

     She begins to wail instead, weeping into his shirt and taking all the comfort she can get from his embrace.

     'It's okay to cry.'

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