Chapter 8- It’s Me Again

ONE YEAR AGO...

SEPTEMBER 18th, 2019.

(ALAN'S POV)

"I'm just getting you help, Alan. You'll be fine."

Ian's eyes move to mine and I narrow mine.

"Ian, I've told you about a million times that I'm fucking fine. You don't need to bring me to the psychiatrist."

He rolls his eyes.

"Alan. You hear our father's voice in your head. Talking to you. He's long gone. Something's obviously wrong. And sometimes you act so depressed, when other times it's pure joy. You're not well in the head."

I rub my head tiredly.

"I had one psychotic episode."

"Where you literally tried to kill a child riding their bike."

I grimace and Ian moves his hard eyes from mine.

"Come on now."

My mind runs with questions, and I approach the front desk with Ian.

The woman smiles.

"Hello, you two, how can I help you?"

"My brother is here for an appointment with Doctor Welkins."

She nods.

"Last name?"

"Thomas."

"Alan, right?"

I look at her for a moment.

So...pure.

I shake my head slightly, smiling.

"Yes. I'm Alan."

"Awesome. She'll be right with you in a moment, dear. You two can have a seat in the waiting room."

Me and Ian sit down in the waiting room that smells like cleaner and old people, and he stares blankly at the TV playing,

"You didn't have to come with me, Ian."

He moves his eyes to mine.

"Huh?"

"You didn't have to come with me. I'm 20. A grown adult."

Ian raises an eyebrow.

"I know you. You wouldn't even show up to the appointment. I'm here to make sure you do."

I grin.

"Look who's finally being a good older brother. You act like a mom."

He smiles.

"Shut up."

Ian's smile then drops.

"I worry about you, Alan."

I make a face.

"Why?"

"Because you—"

"Alan Thomas?"

Our eyes both snap on a fair black haired woman who smiles brightly.

Ian smiles.

"I'll be here, Al."

I nod, following the woman down a narrow hallway and into a bright blue room.

I lean lazily in a chair across from her and she smiles,

"Hello, Alan. I'm Doctor Welkins. You can call me Leilani if it makes you more comfortable."

My eyes scan the room.

"This looks oddly cheerful for a psychiatrist."

She looks at me.

"We want our clients to have a comfortable setting. We want them to feel at home."

I snort.

"Even my home isn't this bright. What is this even about? My brother brought me here and I'd honestly rather be doing something else."

Leilani sighs, collecting a file and a few sheets of paperwork from a shelf.

"I'm just here to help you, Alan. I need to diagnose you so I can prescribe you medication to get better. I was told over email by your brother that you've experienced psychotic episodes? Serious mood swings?"

I grin coldly.

"You make me sound like a fucking monster, Leilani."

"That's not the problem here. If you'd be a little more calm this would be easier. Tell me, how have you been feeling lately? Anything abnormal?"

I yawn.

"I feel like myself, Miss Welkins. What are you looking for? For me to say I murdered someone?"

Leilani looks at me seriously.

"That's not a funny joke, Mr. Thomas. Have you been feeling depressed? Have any suicidal thoughts?"

I sigh.

"I did feel a little off last week."

"Continue on."

"I tried to kill a little girl on her bike with a pipe because my father told me to."

Her eyes widen almost immediately.

"You—you tried to kill a little girl, Alan? Where is your father? Why did he tell you to do this?"

"I don't know where he is. Ian does. He talks to me in my head...or maybe I'm hearing things, Leilani?"

She jots some things down.

"Is there anything else I need to know about?"

I rub my chin, grinning.

"Use your imagination, chica."

********

FOUR DAYS LATER...

I let out a yawn, and the door opens.

Ian comes into my room, holding a large envelope and a brown box.

"This is from the clinic."

I sit up, squinting.

Sighing, I grab my glasses and stare at him blankly.

"And? There's nothing wrong with me, right?" I grin. "I'm completely sane."

"Sure..."

He hands them to me, and I pull open the envelope, then the package.

Papers.

Lots of them.

And a white paper bag.

I groan.

"I don't want to read this shit."

Scanning the first one, my eyes widen and my mind goes blank.

"What?! What happened?! Alan?"

My eyes snap on Ian's.

"You knew this, didn't you?!"

"What?!"

"I have fucking schizophrenia! Where in the flying fuck did that come from?"

Ian stares at me blankly.

"I knew something was wrong with you."

I roll my eyes.

"Says the one with sadistic personality disorder."

Ian ignores me then picks up the white paper bag, eyes scanning the words across it.

"Okay. Quetiapine. Two pills a day. One before breakfast, and one before dinner. Understand? No more and no less."

I stare at him blankly.

"I'm not a schizophrenic. That psychiatrist was a dumbass."

I lay back down and Ian sighs.

"You're going to take these, Alan. You need to get better."

He leaves, and I start laughing.

If he thinks I'm going to do that then he's stupid.

I'm completely sane.

********

THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER.

(GEORGIA'S POV)

I look at him wide eyed, tears streaming down my face.

"Get away from me!"

Ian raises an eyebrow.

"What do you think I'm going to do to you? Look at yourself, love."

I look down at the blood soaked bandage and the pus coming from my wound.

It's infected.

He takes my chin in his hand with a smirk.

"Dear Georgia, your wound is infected. If I leave it any longer you'll get a fever. I wouldn't want my little hostage to get sick."

He releases me, and I sit there as he carefully unties me.

Ian holds out his hand and my eyebrows furrow.

"Come on. I'm not going to hurt you. Now's not the time to be messing around. I have other shit to do, woman."

"Fine."

I hesitantly stick my hand out, and he lifts me up with a smile.

"See? I'm not the worst person in the world, Georgia. I can be alright."

"But your fucking unhinged. You and your brother both."

I cough, getting a wave of nausea as I keel over.

Ian grabs me by the arms, stabilizing me.

"Don't die on me yet, dear. I'm afraid I'm not done with you."

I let out a groan, and he sighs.

"Are you really going to make me pick you up? I feel like I'm talking to a wall. You're very tiresome."

Ian rolls his eyes, lifting me off the floor and putting me on a different bed/operating table.

That's what it looks like at least.

"I—I feel like I can't trust you. You aren't going to hurt me, right?"

He clucks his tongue in annoyance, slowly lifting off the bandage with a disgusted look.

"What did I say, Georgia? I don't like to repeat myself. What the hell did Alan do? This doesn't look right."

"It doesn't feel right either. I'm starting to feel the pain now that whatever Alan gave me wore off."

His eyes snap on mine.

"He gave you shit? What did I expect."

Ian picks up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and my eyes widen.

"Don't use that! That'll—" I cough, letting out a sigh. "That's gonna burn."

"Oh since you're the doctor all of a sudden, what do you suggest I use?"

"I don't know—something that's not that, it'll—AHHH!"

I let out a screech when he pours a little on an infected spot, and Ian grimaces.

"What the fuck?! Did you have to scream that loud?!"

He looks down at the bubbling wound and makes a face.

"Oh. Maybe that's—"

He stops when a door slam is heard, and we both hear a thud and a scream.

"What was that?!"

Ian looks at me sternly.

"Stay there."

"But—"

He grabs a gun off the counter, walking out the door before looking at me.

"Do me a favor,"

A small, somewhat scary smile spreads across his face.

"Stay quiet."

The door then shuts, and I hear a lock slide into place.

That didn't sound good.

*******

(JAE'S POV)

Alan drags me backwards and out of the monitor room by my hair, whacking me each time I let out a scream.

My disoriented eyes follow him as he drops me, beginning to unlock one of the padlocked doors.

This is my chance.

I weakly lift myself up, attempting to run down the hall.

Alan turns around, smiling.

"Silly, silly, Jae. There's no way out for you!"

He lurches forward, grabbing my wrist and yanking me backwards again, laughing when I fall backwards onto the floor.

He looks over me with a grin, tilting his head to the side.

"Where did you think you were going, love? I'm not even close to being done with you!"

"Alan, what's going on?! Why are you doing this?!"

"I've had enough, Jae. Stop stalling."

He pushes open the door, tugging me into the room where I immediately see empty and full pill bottles.

My eyes quickly scan the words.

Quetiapine.

That's to cure schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and severe depression.

That is his medication.

He yanks me off the floor, smiling.

"You're an interesting woman, Jae. I've realized that. There's so much more to you than the rest. You're exactly how he described..."

Alan then pushes me back onto the floor, tying my hands together in front of me.

"Don't try anything or I will blow your brains out, honeybun."

He bops my nose and then stands back up, pacing back and forth.

Here goes possibly everything.

"Alan—have you been taking your medication?"

He begins to wrap bandages over his knuckles, quietly laughing.

"I don't need the medication, sweetheart—"

His deranged eyes meet mine from underneath his bangs and I grimace when he grins manically at me.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Jae. Has anyone told you that? I would like to keep one for myself."

Alan holds up a metal spoon and begins laughing, and I back away into the far corner.

He is fucking psychotic.

Those pills were from almost two months ago...he hasn't been on medication in two months?! That's not good. And that probably explains the sudden psychotic episode.

I hold up my tied up hands, wide eyes following him around the room.

"Alan, please—"

"Oh honey! You remind me too much of the other people I slaughtered! Begging for your existence! It makes me feel so...pleasured to know I'm in charge, don't you think? I want to see it all, Williams. I don't think you know how long I've been waiting to do this!"

He drops down to my level, his shaking hand stroking my face.

"Are you scared, Alan? Why are you shaking? You don't have to kill me. We can talk this through."

He lowers his hand with a smirk.

"I'm shaking because I'm so excited, babe. Killing makes me aroused."

He looks down at his trembling hands, then my terrified face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Alan, what's happening?! You were just okay like thirty minutes ago—did you—"

My eyes catch on an empty pill bottle, and when my eyes focus more on his they're bloodshot.

Him getting high triggered this—this psychotic state. I can fix this. Hopefully.

Alan pulls down the first strap of my tank top, staring at me with the same look in his empty eyes. He looks gone.

I pull myself away from him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Get away from me, Alan! You're unstable!"

"And you know too much! Hasn't Ian warned you?! Warned you not to be a nosy little bitch?! This is what you get for digging into our personal business, Agent Williams. Death."

He loads a gun and points it at me when the door bursts open, and a messy haired Ian looks at us both wide eyed.

Alan grins, turning his head around.

"Ian...you're just in time for the party!"

"What're you doing?! Put the fucking gun down. Now."

Alan snorts.

"You think you can still control me?! I'm 22, Ian. Not 12."

Ian narrows his eyes, pointing the same revolver he had earlier at Alan.

"Put it down. This isn't what you want, Alan."

"I'll shoot her if you even think about doing anything, brother."

Ian makes a face.

"You're losing yourself again. You hear him, don't you? Harold? In your head?"

Alan's grin drops.

"How?"

"I know you well enough to know that the bastard still controls you. All you are to him is a damn pet. He wants you to go mad. Drop the gun. Don't let him win, Alan."

Alan jerks the gun away from me to Ian.

"I will shoot you. Back away, Ian. You don't know what you're doing."

"What do you want?! Money? Fame? You aren't going to get any of that from this. You'll never be like him, Alan. You'll never be Harold."

Alan's arm shakes slightly, and Ian's cold eyes are trained on him.

"Fine. If I'm not going to kill either of you,"

My eyes widen when he turns the gun to his own head with a grin.

"I'll kill myself. See you soon, Harold."

I let out a small scream when I hear two gunshots, scrunching my eyes shut when I hear a thud.

"Alan?"

I hear Ian's voice, and feel a sharp pain in my leg.

What the hell...?

I look down, seeing blood pouring from my shin.

I got shot—but how?!

My eyes move over to Ian, now on the ground hovering over Alan with ruby red blood stained on his hands.

"Alan?! Alan, can you hear me?!"

I see a few tears run down his perfect pale cheeks, and my weary eyes glide down to Alan, on the floor with blood spilling from a wound in his stomach.

How...? If it was pointed at his head?

My mind goes blank, and I realize that Alan quickly turned around and shot at me, when Ian most likely shot him.

The gunshot hit my leg instead of my chest.

Ian...Ian saved my life.

I bite my lip, raising my arms above my head and pulling them down at full force, watching as the restraints snap.

Chest pounding, I weakly pull myself over to them, ignoring the pain in leg,

I hover my hand over Alan's neck.

I then touch his skin. Cold.

A shot to the stomach shouldn't kill him immediately...if I can—

I press my thumb against the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse.

There's something.

I look at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.

Peaceful.

He looks at peace.

I look at Ian, who looks numb.

"Ian. He's still alive. If we get him help he'll live."

He holds his head in his hands, and Alan's blood begins to touch my legs as I sit next to him.

My mind snaps to someone.

"Georgia."

*******

I drag myself out of the room, blood continuing to spill from the agonizing wound in my leg that seems to get worse and worse.

Ian, holding Alan's body, quickly unlocks the door.

We see Georgia passed out on the ground, and Ian lets out a stream of curses.

"Fuck."

He lays Alan down, turning to look at me panting in the doorway.

"Stay with them, Jae."

"Where are you going?!"

I lean heavily against the door frame and he sighs.

"I have to go get help."

He throws me his phone, which I catch in my bloody hands.

"Call 911 if anything happens."

"But—"

"Jae, please."

I nod.

"Okay."

As soon as he leaves police sirens hit my ears, and my eyes widen.

Oh no.

"Ian?!"

I look at Alan, his face becoming more and more pale as blood leaves his body, and Georgia who's still as a rock.

What is happening?!

I pull off my shirt, tying it tightly around my leg to hold off the bleeding.

I crawl over to Alan, looking down at him.

Fuck.

"Alan? This isn't your fault, alright? Just please don't die on me. Ian needs you."

Nothing.

Of course not.

I stand up, letting out a yell of pain before pulling myself over to a cabinet, seeing a shit ton of gauze.

This isn't going to do shit.

My eyes then catch on a shirt, which I take and tie around his stomach as a tourniquet.

That should stop the bleeding long enough so I can fix this.

I look at Georgia, quickly feeling her head.

My eyes widen.

She's scorching. But the rest of her body is cold and clammy.

This is a nightmare.

I stand up, dragging myself out of the room to see the front door wide open, Ian on the floor with someone's boot on his back and a gun pointed to his head.

"Ian! What—"

I hear his grunt.

"Jae—I'm fine, alright?"

The officer turns around, and that's when I realize it isn't an officer.

"Drake?"

"Jae! You're okay—what happened to your leg? Where's Georgia? I told you we'd come back for you."

My heart thumps in my ears.

"Please stop pointing the gun at him, he's not going to hurt anyone—I promise!"

Drake's eyes widen.

"You're not talking about him, are you?! This man's a lunatic, Jae! He's kept you and Georgia captive, remember?"

"Yes! And that wasn't a good thing! But his brother is dying, and he's trying to get help! Georgia's not well either. Ian's going to get help, Drake. He didn't hurt me the whole time I was here! Promise!"

Ian grunts again when Drake pushes on his back harder, and he looks at me for a moment.

"Cyrus? Bronwyn? Someone, get her!"

"What?!"

My eyes go wide when Cyrus and Bronwyn come in, backing away.

"What're you doing?! Stop! Get away! I did nothing wrong—I—"

"I'm sorry, Williams. But you're an accomplice. Scheming with criminals is against the law, especially when you put an agents life in danger."

My heart stops when Cyrus secures handcuffs around my wrists, and as I get dragged backwards towards their car I see Ian's face.

His eyes are filled with an eternal sadness. Disappointment.

His eyes meet mine and I bite my lip to stop myself from crying.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him.

I mouth, and his eyes widen as I get shoved into the police car.

Is this the end?

********

TWO WEEKS LATER...

I got thrown in prison.

For 25 years.

For "going against the government's law".

It's honestly my fault in the first place. I did go against the government's law by hanging out with fucking serial killers.

By the time I get out I'm going to be 48.

Ian's in here too, and Georgia thankfully got out of the hospital okay.

She's visited me a couple of times, and is still friends with me unlike everyone else on that damn team.

I obviously got kicked off of it after that.

I'm pretty sure Alan has been in the hospital, and after that has to go to rehab.

I'm not surprised.

He's kinda crazy.

And I'm kinda crazy for forgiving him but something's telling me there's more to those damn brothers then meets the eye.

My angry eyes follow an officer around outside my cell, and he sighs.

"You said you'd tell me if he was okay, Brad!"

"I can't tell you that information."

He opens his mouth to say something else when something comes over his walkie talkie.

"Yes? Take her to the front? Why? Both?"

He looks at me strangely.

"Come with me, Number 4638."

I stand up, hearing the annoying jangle of the handcuffs as I walk towards the front.

When I get there I see him.

"Ian?"

He stands with another officer, dark hair covering the left side of his face as usual.

His vacant green eyes snap on mine, and he gives me a half smile.

"You two are being released."

"What?!"

I say, and the female officer, Sabrina, nods.

"Two men came by with the exact amount of money in cash and bailed you out. They're over there."

My eyes move across the room, and my mouth drops open slightly.

"What the...?"

Alan, bright eyes trained on mine smiles slightly, and he then waves at Ian who looks at him in shock.

He's out of the hospital and rehab already.

Good for him...maybe he'll learn to take his medications.

When my eyes move over to the second person, my heart drops.

"Oh my fucking god."

There, standing next to Alan with his arm around his shoulder, is Harold Thomas.