Does Your Lack of Conscience Tell You Everything's Alright?

The smell of pancakes and bacon dances around my nose, pulling me from my slumber. I can't feel Alex's body next to mine.

Where did he go?

I open my eyes and stretch.

"You're up."

I turn my head. Alex stands in the doorway, a tray in his hands.

"So are you," I reply.

"I didn't want to wake you; you looked peaceful sleeping."

He walks to the bed and sits, placing the tray on the mattress. Two plates filled with bacon and pancakes are on the tray with two glasses of what I assume is orange juice.

"I made breakfast," he states.

"I see that."

"So you assume I made the food."

"You're the only one I ever see cook."

"My mother can cook."

"But I've never watched her cook."

"True. Eat; we have to get clothes today," he instructs.

I do as instructed. We eat in silence, like normal. I've grown accustomed to it. It's surprisingly comforting.

I mean, would I rather eat next to Alex in silence or eat next to Jeffery while he tells me what he's going to do to me?

I think the answer to that obvious.

Jeffery hasn't fully left my mind since the day Alex came to my rescue. He's there constantly. I may not be jumpy in the day time, I may not be afraid that he's going to appear when I turn the corner and beat the hell out of me, I may not be worried about him escaping from jail.

He never was crafty, just lucky, and his luck has run out.

However, I can't help comparing everything now to the way things were. I can't help comparing Alex to Jeffery, though they're nothing alike.

The memory of Jeffery is in my head and I subconsciously refer back to it at every moment. It haunts my dreams, make me feel dirty when I remember what happened.

I just want it all to go away so I can live a normal life.

But I can't separate myself from my brain.

Not without killing myself.

I'll admit I've thought about suicide in the past, thought about just ending my life to end my pain. I'd love to say I cherished life so much, that I had so much faith, that I decided to wait till something good would happen.

That's not the case.

I was never allowed around anything I could kill myself with. The knives, guns, forks, and other sharp objects were locked up. I was never allowed to shower alone. Any rope like object was kept out of reach. Pills were never anywhere in sight. I had no way to get to the roof. The sinks didn't have plugs to fill themselves with water and I couldn't get to the washer and dryer to bash my head in. Suffocation with pillows never worked.

The house was suicide-proof.

All because of Marie.

She tried to kill herself a few times so Jeffery became paranoid.

I should be happy I'm not dead though.

At least, I think I should. Besides Jeffery constantly plaguing my mind, everything is great.

"Are you done eating?" Alex asks.

I look at my half-eaten pancake, empty glass of orange juice, and full serving of bacon still sitting on the plate. My stomach is full. I can't eat anymore.

"Yeah," I answer.

"Alright. I'll take these and wash them. Get dressed and we'll leave," he stands, grabs the dishes, and begins walking to the door.

"Um, Alex," I say.

He stops, turning toward me.

"Yeah?"

"I'd rather not wear those little kid clothes to shop."

It would be kind of embarrassing.

"Wear some of my clothes," he instructs.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, you can't go in your underwear. Though I would love to watch you walk around in them, we probably wouldn't leave the house."

My cheeks flush. Alex smiles, walks to me in long strides, and leans closer to my face.

"Get dressed," he pecks my lips and leaves the room.

I touch my lips; they tingle from his short intrusion.

The way my body reacts to him is ridiculous.

But I like it.