Page 35 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Alex sighed and returned to the mat. “I’m just tired of it, Two. Tired of holding my tongue and pretending all the time.”

“But you’ve only just begun,” Two pointed out. “And this is the easy part; it’ll be much harder when you return to Mr Tyler.”

“I know that. Maybe I’m not as strong as everyone thinks. Maybe this is too much for me. Maybe I’ll never get justice for Solange.”

“Then what?” Two asked curtly. “What’s your alternative, Alex?”

“I don’t have one. I’m just sick of this!” Alex threw his towel at Two and stormed out of the room.

He needed a break. He needed to let off some steam or he’d explode. How the hell did Two do it, year in, year out – maintain that elegant, dignified persona and remain so effortlessly calm? How could anyone do that?

Alex ignored Two for the next few days and did the bare minimum in B’s lessons. Waking the following Sunday, he found Two crouching beside his bed, gently squeezing his arm.

“Alex, it’s precisely when it feels the hardest that you have to push on through,” he said.

Alex pulled his pillow over his head. “I can’t,” he muttered. “I’m tired of it. I’ve had enough.”

“I know. That’s precisely why I’m trying to teach you ways to deal with these feelings. When it’s tough, that’s when you must do more yoga and more breathing exercises, not less. You need an anchor, something I haven’t taught you, yet, but it’s been invaluable to me.”

“An anchor?” Alex sat up in bed and stared at Two moodily. “What does that mean?”

“You know about Pavlov’s dogs – how he always rang a bell when feeding them until they salivated upon hearing the bell, even when there was no food?”

“Yes.” Alex frowned. “So?”

“So, you need something that you associate with serenity. Something you practise with so often that eventually it has the power to calm and anchor you whenever you think about it.”

“What kind of thing?”

“It can be a memory, or a scent, or a piece of music, whatever works best for you.”

“What do you use?”

“You already know that.” Two grinned at him.

“Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata ,” Alex said slowly. It was always the first thing Two played when he performed his yoga practise.

“Yes, that works for me. For you, it’ll be something different.”

“I used to…” Alex smiled wistfully. “I used to use my mother’s scarf in that way, I think. Her scent still clung to it. It helped. Just breathing it in, feeling its silky softness on my cheek – it calmed me.”

“Well, we don’t have that, and it’s not a good idea to get attached to something that can be taken away from you easily. You tried to use those photographs as an anchor, too, remember, and were distressed when they were removed. So… something else.”

“You can’t always have access to the Moonlight Sonata ,” Alex pointed out.

“No, but I can hum it, and that works almost as well.” Two smiled. “Please, Alex, let’s keep going. I think this could be a way forward for you.”

Alex sighed, but he allowed Two to cajole him back to the gym. He was surprised to find that he’d missed his daily yoga sessions, breathing exercises, and meditation. Maybe Two was right. Maybe they were a way of dealing with his situation.

Two flicked through the music available in the gym library alphabetically. It didn’t take him very long to reach Ashton . Alex glanced over his shoulder and found the song that had been playing the night Peter had been murdered. He clicked on it to play.

Old dreams fade slow,

You once said that you’d never let go,

Sweet words, wide smiles,

You always said that you’d stay awhile.

Immediately he was back there, watching the blood spurt from Peter’s neck, hearing Joe’s keening howl when he realised Peter was dead.

“Not this one,” he said curtly, changing the track.

“It should preferably be something you don’t have a strong emotional attachment to. Something calm but impersonal,” Two advised, glancing at him curiously. “Clearly, this song is not that. Keep trying, Alex. It might take a while to find the right song.”

Alex scoured the music library every day for the next week, with no success.

“There’s nothing that works for me the way Moonlight Sonata works for you,” he said morosely one evening.

“You give up too soon,” Two chided, always a sore point between them.

“It’s late, and I’m hungry,” Alex complained.

“Sometimes you will be hungry. Sometimes you will be tired, or in pain – all it takes is one slip, and Mr Tyler will know you’ve been lying to him. You have to learn how to control yourself at all times.”

“Oh, God, I’m starting to wish I’d never told you about Tyler. Just give me a fucking break.” Alex stormed off towards the dining room. It was dinner time, and he needed to get away from Two and his relentless lessons.

Five waved him over when he arrived, and he felt his bad mood dissipating.

It was good to chill out and chat with his fellow indies.

Who cared if Two disapproved of his emotional dependence on their friendship?

Maybe it wasn’t necessary to cut himself off from everyone.

Two’s way didn’t have to be his way; he could find a middle path.

D smiled at him fondly as she smuggled him his usual post-dinner treat – this time, two chocolate truffles. Alex smiled back and squeezed her hand as she placed them surreptitiously under his napkin. He didn’t see F looming behind them until it was too late.

“What’s that? What are you giving him?” F yanked the napkin aside to reveal the truffles. “Where did you get these?” he demanded, towering over D.

“The… st-staff room…” she stuttered, shrinking back against the wall.

“Why are you giving the students special food? What else are you doing for him? Are you passing messages to his family? He’s not allowed contact with his family,” F yelled, cornering her against the wall.

“Stop it!” Alex pushed F away and stood in front of D, protecting her. “It’s just some bloody chocolate. Where’s the harm in that?”

“Friendships between staff and students are forbidden – that’s the harm in it,” F retorted. “I’ll report you,” he yelled at her. “You’ll lose your job for this.”

“Don’t be such a fucking bully.” Alex shoved F’s shoulder to force him away from the cowering D.

“Oh, you’ve changed your tune,” F sneered. “You’ve been all ‘yes F, no F’ for weeks, but now we see you’re the same old One underneath, don’t we?”

Alex bit his lip. Over F’s shoulder he could see Two watching the scene. His expression was empty, devoid of opinion, but Alex knew what he was thinking. He could already hear his chiding words in his head, berating him for allowing this situation to get out of hand and ruin weeks of hard work.

Alex tried to collect himself, to calm down and get control of his emotions, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered to Two later, when they returned to the dorm to get ready for bed.

“Alex…” Two looked tired and defeated. “Everything I’ve done these past few weeks has been to help you.

I was upset by your story, and I wanted to do something for you.

I couldn’t bear the thought of you returning to your houder unprepared, to suffer at his hands again with no armour, no strategy for coping.

But what do I know? You want to do things your way, and maybe you’re right. I’m just a tired old man.”

“Please, don’t give up on me,” Alex begged.

“Why not, when you’ve so obviously given up on yourself?”

“I haven’t. I need you. Please.”

“No,” Two said firmly. “I’m tired, Alex. I’ve done my best by you, but I’m afraid the time has come for me to throw in the towel, as you did earlier. I wish you well, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s over.”

Two climbed into bed, pulled the sheets over his shoulders, and very pointedly turned his back on Alex.

Alex stared at him for a long time, feeling very much alone. He slipped into his own bed, but sleep eluded him. Was Two right? Or could he do it his way and still succeed? He mulled it all over in his head but came to no conclusions.

The next few days passed in a blur of misery.

Two barely said a word to him, and there were no sessions in the gym after class – Two went straight to the rec room and sat quietly with a book.

He was his usual polite self when Alex spoke to him, but he didn’t initiate any conversations and cut them short when Alex started them.

At first, Alex was relieved the pressure had lifted, but he missed his friend, too.

Two watched, smiling absently but refusing to join in, as Alex spent more time with the other indies.

He messed around in B’s lessons, enjoying the sense of freedom, only to feel ashamed of himself when he saw Two’s expressionless gaze fixed on him.

Still, he revelled in all his new spare time.

He could watch the screen with the others in the evening, flick through books and magazines, and he found the pencils and pad the staff had given him for Christmas in his bedside drawer.

He hadn’t had time to draw anything in ages, but now he did.

He sketched his friends, the staff, even Belvedere itself, giving them all a little Alex spin.

Every night, he looked at Solange’s photo, feeling a twinge of guilt. One day, his time at Belvedere would come to an end, yet he was frittering away the only plan that might help him obtain justice for her.