Post by Trublu on Jul 24, 2006 21:45:31 GMT -5
Title: Breathe No More
Author: Me!
Permission to archive: Ask first.
Fandom(s): SVU
Genre: Angst
Pairing/Characters: Alex
Rating:PG-13 or T
Summary: Alex's thoughts while in Witness Protection.
Warnings: DARK FIC.
Notes: Song "Breathe No More" © Evanescence. R&R to your hearts' content!
Acknowledgments:Munchkin for being my beta!
I cry as the soft words filter through the radio. I’m so tired of my life here, of trying to live a life that is a lie. Looking in the mirror, the gentle lyrics hit me as if trying to show me the haunting similarity that is my pathetic existence. I do not know where my soul has gone. I’m not even sure if it’s hiding away on the other side of the taunting mirror. Slowly, I lift up my shaking hand and sift through my blonde hair, take another look at my ice blue eyes. My appearance is the same, but this feeling inside me is not.
I want to forget the many months I’ve wasted. Forget the hot bullet in my arm. Forget Olivia’s frightened face as she tried desperately to save my life. Forget Hammond’s voice telling me that I couldn’t go home, that my mother was dead, but I couldn’t go home.
The tears have started again, but I barely feel them. I was taught at a young age that there was no room for tears in the life of a Cabot. I’m not a Cabot anymore, so I wonder if there’s room for the aching and the pain in my life now.
Finally I realize that there is no more Alex Cabot. The life I had back then is still lying broken and beaten in the hospital bed where I found out that I was dead. Now, I’m just staring in this mirror, looking for myself. I’m becoming more and more nervous as I look, because I see nothing. Blonde hair and blue eyes mean nothing anymore. They’re a distant memory of what used to be, of what I used to have. Looking down, I see my hands, only they’re not my hands anymore. My mind distorts and reshapes them into objects that I can recognize only from my nightmares.
Staring over to where my bed should be, I see haze and fog. The things that are around me are slowly slipping away. Turning back to the mirror, the anger takes over me. The only thing that is still clear is my appearance, yet it is the most foreign thing in the room. Out of frustration, I feel my hands clench tightly. Before I can stop myself, I smash the mirror in front of me.
Cold blood is running from my hands, but the pain is dull. Everything is still blurry, but the clarity of my reflection is gone. This is what I have become, a mere reflection in the bathroom mirror. I know deep down my life has ended, and now it is time to end my existence. I remember the gun that was given to me for protection, hidden away in the drawer beside my bed. Rug burns cover my arms and legs when I fall. I stay on my knees, fear creeping into my bones. But the blood seeps into the carpet, and I’m reminded of what I have to do. I manage to claw my way to my bed, smearing blood across the prim white sheets. I force the drawer open and am faced with the dark, sleek gun staring at me, daring me to pick it up. Turning it over and over in my hands, I falter. Is this what I really want? But as the last strains of the song filter through the radio, I know I have no choice in the matter. I put the gun to my head, and whisper the last few words of the song. I pull the trigger. Alex Cabot is dead.
Author: Me!
Permission to archive: Ask first.
Fandom(s): SVU
Genre: Angst
Pairing/Characters: Alex
Rating:PG-13 or T
Summary: Alex's thoughts while in Witness Protection.
Warnings: DARK FIC.
Notes: Song "Breathe No More" © Evanescence. R&R to your hearts' content!
Acknowledgments:Munchkin for being my beta!
“I’ve been looking in the mirror for so long,
That I’ve come to believe my soul’s on the other side…”
I cry as the soft words filter through the radio. I’m so tired of my life here, of trying to live a life that is a lie. Looking in the mirror, the gentle lyrics hit me as if trying to show me the haunting similarity that is my pathetic existence. I do not know where my soul has gone. I’m not even sure if it’s hiding away on the other side of the taunting mirror. Slowly, I lift up my shaking hand and sift through my blonde hair, take another look at my ice blue eyes. My appearance is the same, but this feeling inside me is not.
I want to forget the many months I’ve wasted. Forget the hot bullet in my arm. Forget Olivia’s frightened face as she tried desperately to save my life. Forget Hammond’s voice telling me that I couldn’t go home, that my mother was dead, but I couldn’t go home.
The tears have started again, but I barely feel them. I was taught at a young age that there was no room for tears in the life of a Cabot. I’m not a Cabot anymore, so I wonder if there’s room for the aching and the pain in my life now.
“All the little pieces falling, shatter,
Shards of me, too sharp to put back together…”
Finally I realize that there is no more Alex Cabot. The life I had back then is still lying broken and beaten in the hospital bed where I found out that I was dead. Now, I’m just staring in this mirror, looking for myself. I’m becoming more and more nervous as I look, because I see nothing. Blonde hair and blue eyes mean nothing anymore. They’re a distant memory of what used to be, of what I used to have. Looking down, I see my hands, only they’re not my hands anymore. My mind distorts and reshapes them into objects that I can recognize only from my nightmares.
Staring over to where my bed should be, I see haze and fog. The things that are around me are slowly slipping away. Turning back to the mirror, the anger takes over me. The only thing that is still clear is my appearance, yet it is the most foreign thing in the room. Out of frustration, I feel my hands clench tightly. Before I can stop myself, I smash the mirror in front of me.
“But I know the difference, between myself and my reflection,
But I can’t help but to wonder, which of us do you love?”
Cold blood is running from my hands, but the pain is dull. Everything is still blurry, but the clarity of my reflection is gone. This is what I have become, a mere reflection in the bathroom mirror. I know deep down my life has ended, and now it is time to end my existence. I remember the gun that was given to me for protection, hidden away in the drawer beside my bed. Rug burns cover my arms and legs when I fall. I stay on my knees, fear creeping into my bones. But the blood seeps into the carpet, and I’m reminded of what I have to do. I manage to claw my way to my bed, smearing blood across the prim white sheets. I force the drawer open and am faced with the dark, sleek gun staring at me, daring me to pick it up. Turning it over and over in my hands, I falter. Is this what I really want? But as the last strains of the song filter through the radio, I know I have no choice in the matter. I put the gun to my head, and whisper the last few words of the song. I pull the trigger. Alex Cabot is dead.
“Bleed, I bleed
And I breathe, I breathe, I breathe
I breathe no more…”