Only A Week

*****Day 6*****

It was well after midnight. Jack lay on the couch, unable to sleep. The length of his right arm was covered in deep red scratches, but only a few had been deep enough to draw blood, at that meant fewer endorphins.



Sitting up, Jack closed his eyes and searched his mind for the voice that constantly mocked him. He didn’t know why; he did know that he needed to hear a voice besides his own.



‘Hello?’



‘What do you want? Some of us are trying to sleep. Those of us that can, that is.’



‘I need someone to talk to.’



‘Just the fact that you’d reach out to me makes me feel so very special.’



‘I don’t know what to do. Sarah’s inconsolable, Amy’s probably going to leave me, and it’s all my fault,’ he said, burying his face in his hands.



‘And what do you want me to tell you? I don’t have all the answers. What do you normally do when you can’t handle things?’



‘You usually make me get my razor.’



‘Well, that’s a suicide mission. It’s upstairs. What else do you do?’



‘I go to the lake.’



‘So let’s go to the lake. You humans, you’re just like your Pokémon. Always need someone else to tell you what to do.’



Jack stood up, wincing as he took the pressure off his arm. He slipped out the back door and walked through the forest to the lake, which shimmered under the full moon. The weather hadn’t warmed up in the past week, and without the sun overhead the temperature was another ten degrees lower.



He expected the lake to be warmer, like it had been a week ago; it wasn’t. The cold came up off the water, frosting the grass on the edge of the lake. His Milotic’s head was poking up above the surface, lying on the ground.



“Hey Millie,” he said, walking over to her. “You cold?”



Her head came up off the ground, try to recognize him in the moonlight. When she did recognize him, a wide tongue swept across his face.



“You feel like an icicle, girl. It’s not good for you to be this cold,” Jack said, reaching into the exposed root system of a nearby tree. He dug around and produced Milotic’s Pokéball. “Do you want to go inside for the night?”



She nodded and pressed her nose to the button on the front, leaving her Trainer alone. Jack clipped the ball on his belt and sat on the lakefront, holding his knees to his chest. A hundred questions rushed through his head; why did he mate with Sarah? What was he going to tell her? Why had he kissed her in the first place? He knew that she had made him go along with it, but he hadn’t needed much suggestion.



‘You’re in love with her.’



‘I know.’



‘What are you going to do?’



‘Not sure.’



He sat there for hours in his shell, trying in vain to discern any of his thoughts from the thousands of others ratting about in his head. He was so focused on nothing that eventually he failed to notice his own shivering. When the sun started to creep over the trees, he released Milotic again and fed all of the Pokémon. His restless mind yielded to physical exhaustion as he stumbled back into his office and collapsed on the couch, letting sleep overtake him.

*****

“Wake up.”



Jack’s eyes opened, his stomach burning. He looked down and saw the imprint of a shoe over it. The foot—or a shape that looked like a foot—was going away from him and to the ground.



“I need to know something, Jack.”



His eyes focused, sharpening the image of the room. Amy was standing in front of him, fully dressed and arms folded. He saw two large suitcases behind her. Her expression wasn’t one of anger or even disgust, as he would have preferred. It was more sorrowful than that.



He sighed. He knew it was coming, but not how.



“Who do you love, Jack?”



“What?”



“Me or her. Choose.”



“You know I can’t do that, Amy.”



“No, you don’t want to. I need to know who you care more about.”



“I love both of you.”



She grabbed the suitcases. “I think I have my answer,” she said, walking out. As she left the room, Jack saw six Pokéballs on her belt. She was leaving for good.



Part of him wanted to run out of the room and plead with her to stay. To beg her to forgive him, to keep Sarah outside with the other Pokémon. It was a small part, and he ignored it, but it gnawed at him all the same.



He heard the front door slam shut and a taxi pull up. That was it. She was gone and wanted nothing more to do with him. Jack slammed his head against the back cushion, opening his eyes and seeing two red ones staring back from the doorway.



‘What happened?’ Sarah asked.



“Amy left. She’s gone,” Jack replied, sitting up. “Sarah, I—please, don’t go—”



Before he could apologize for everything he had put her through, she was gone in a flash of light, leaving Jack to stare at empty space. He shook his head and slumped back on the couch, unable to find the energy for anything.



So the day went. Jack left his office only to get food and use the bathroom. He barely moved all day, preferring to drown his thoughts in the television. Late in the afternoon, he heard Sarah in the kitchen, doing something. He didn’t know, or care, what. He loved her, more than he knew, but he couldn’t stand the feeling he got when he thought of her. Not disgust or anger; sadness. She made him sad, and he knew seeing her would only make it worse.



Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Jack was sick of feeling sad, sick of hating himself, sick of the dark red scratches on his arm. He steeled himself, went upstairs, and knocked on her door.



“Sarah? Sarah, come on. We can’t keep avoiding each other.”



There was no response, and when he tried the knob he found it was locked.



“Please, Sarah! I’m sorry for everything I said.”



Still nothing. He hated to invade her privacy, but she wasn’t giving him any other option. Jack went to his room and dug the key to her lock out of his dresser drawer. He undid the lock and opened the door, revealing a dark room. Her lamp was off, and the hall light didn’t filter far enough in. Jack could barely see her silhouette on the bed before flicking on the light.



“Sarah, I’m sor—what the hell?”



She wasn’t asleep; she was passed out. Sarah was sprawled across her bed, covered in a cold sweat. The flower he had given her with breakfast four days ago was in her hair, blue on green. Her skin was tinged a bright yellow, her breathing short and ragged.



“Dammit Sarah, what did you do?” he asked out loud, frantically looking over her body until he noticed the empty bottle on her nightstand.



“Fucking alcohol,” he muttered, grabbing the bottle and throwing it across the room. He took Sarah’s Pokéball from her dresser and recalled her for the first time in years. Jack ran out of the house and mounted his bicycle, riding as fast as he could to the Pokémon Center across town. As the sun set, he crashed into the bike port near the entrance and flew over his handlebars onto the grass. He picked himself up, limping on his right leg, and got inside.



“Hello Jack—what’s wrong?” Nurse Joy asked, seeing the look on his face.



“Gardevoir…alcohol poisoning,” he managed to gasp out, handing her the Pokéball and slumping onto the counter.



He vaguely heard her yelling something to a Chansey before he stumbled over to a chair and collapsed.

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