Title: Phoenix, Chapter Four
Author: Inca
Feedback: Because otherwise, I can't find my pencils -
slasherphiles@y...
Rating NC17
AU Liam/William
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, I just like to play with them
Spoilers: AU
Summary: Risen from the ashes, as an Angel
Authors notes: Love you all, everyone who's reading and especially
the people who feed me. Anyone who watches Law and Order should
smile at Kate's name.
~
I explain the ME's behaviour thusly [Prodigal-S1]:
Angel: "Los Angeles, Kate, you've seen this kind of thing before,
probably a lot. You just didn't have a name for it, that's all."
Kate: "No, I think I'd remember."
Angel: "Yeah, well, people have a way of seeing what they need to."



***



Will sat in the small foyer of `CaliGallery' and tapped his fingers
against his jeans. The walls were covered with brightly painted
works, things that people associated with California mostly, beach
and surf and open air markets filled with people. Other things too,
behind the scenes depictions, inside studios, some of the work was
quite original actually. He had done a quick stroll around after
checking in with the brunette secretary, but none of the work
had `Liam Alaise' in the corner.

Not that he was surprised. Work by a convicted felon didn't
really `up' the prestige of a gallery.

Not this one anyway.

A tall handsome thirty-something man with spiked brown hair, came
out of the office pulling his coat off. "Dr Telleck?"

"Yes, hello." Will said, standing and shaking the man's hand.

"Brian Novonus. My secretary tells me you called about seeing some
of Liam's work?"

"Yes, if you could show me. It would help me a great deal."

"With what? Exactly?" The man's face was cold.

"Knowing who he is. You can't treat a person if you can't get inside
their head."

Brian raised his eyebrow. "That so?"

"What I believe."

"I'll show you then. We don't have them out here, I didn't …" He
trailed off, staring down at the floor.

"Fine." William said serenely.

Brian led him to the back of the shop, into a wide storage room. He
hefted a crate from under the shelves.

"This is it." He said, fixing his collar. "All we had here. Pieces
to be sold."

William opened the crate slowly. It was a little dusty. He pulled
the first picture up. Men and women walking along the assorted
health food cafes and coffee shops that littered L.A., it exuded a
feeling of … being there, with them, seeing them happy exactly how
Liam had seen them. The next was a view along one of the beaches,
people sunbathing in costumes.
One was done at night, a painting of some teenaged girls, tarted up
with make up too old for them. The picture exuded a sense of
vulnerability and being lost, the crystal clear girls surrounded by
flashes of cars and blurred people.

Liam could capture emotions and set them free in paint, so everyone
could see them. Will shook his head in amazement.

"These are really good." Will said as he flipped through the dusty
canvases.

"Liam was really good." Brian said quietly.

Will flipped to two small boys wrestling in a sandpit, particles
kicking up around them, smudges on their smiling faces, so lifelike
he thought he could hear the cackles as they played.

"I don't know how that got there." Brian interrupted, taking the
picture from him gently. "That wasn't going to be sold."

Will frowned, "Why not? It's good."

"They were Liam's sons." Brian said glancing away from the picture.

Will looked at the picture with renewed interest until Brian slid it
into a canvas case and placed it on a top shelf.

"You're Liam's therapist. Why'd he do it?" Brian suddenly asked,
accusingly.

"Well, I can't talk about our sessions."

"That's a bullshit answer, give me a real one."

Will stared back at him evenly. "I don't know." He said coolly.

"There must be some reason."

"There is. But I don't know it, yet, which is why I'm here."

Brian turned away and started shelving some pictures, quickly. "Why
you're here." He repeated, shaking his head.

"Yes, I'm here because I want to help Liam."

Brian turned around, his hazel eyes flashing. "Help? Help! He should
rot away in there."

Will was a little taken aback by the sudden fury. "Whys that? What
Liam did, he didn't have control over himself. Hes a sick, sick man."

Brian shoved the last picture into the shelf almost cracking it. "If
an animal ever did what he did? No one would hesitate shooting it."
He stormed to the door.

"You're the one who found him, right?" Will asked calmly, stopping
the man in his tracks.

"Yes." He said, not turning around. "I found him."

"That must've been difficult, a friend of yours, finding him –"

Brian sighed and spun around, fixing angry eyes on the man standing
near the shelves of paintings. "Difficult? I've been friends with
Liam since he was eight years old. I grew up on the opposite side of
the street from him, only three years difference between us. I was
at his thirteenth birthday party; I helped teach him how to drive a
manual. I bought him alcohol for his first kegger and laughed at him
when he threw up the next morning, I was his best man at his
wedding. We opened this gallery together and made it work. I watched
his kids grow." His face was hard, like stone. "And so he doesn't
turn up to a meeting one day. A meeting he wouldn't miss. So I go
over there, and there he is, this man I've known my whole fucking
life, lying naked and covered in blood and … bits. His family's
blood. His four year old son, ripped open, his step son eyeless …
and … broken, his wife – fucking… carved up from the inside, and
he's holding her, sleeping peacefully like he hasn't got a care in
the world."

Will couldn't meet his eyes. He noticed the man was shaking.

"Don't gloss over anything, you know. Yeah, it was `difficult'
finding him that day. And from what I saw? The rest of his life as
an abused crazy fuck? Too good for him. I hope you got what you came
for. Excuse me."

Brian disappeared.

Will looked up, an indeterminate amount of time later, to notice
this. He looked down at the pictures despondently. Emotional, yes.
But deranged? Any indication of what was going to happen?
No.

Will started to leave, but turned to see the box of canvas, of
Liam's memories from his past life, sitting discarded on the floor.
He went and picked it up and took it out the front door to his car,
the secretary smiling sadly at him. He gently pushed the box in, and
drove off.

He doubted Brian would miss them.



**~~**

He could tell William was gently trying to get him talking about his
family.

He refused to answer any questions, just resolutely swiped the green
twists along the canvas with his brush. He was painting a memory,
from when he was little, the backyard of his house through his open
bedroom window, and he was capturing the way the wind and the sun
felt on his face by using bright swirls of colour.
He really liked this picture.

"My dad?" Will was saying. "I didn't really know him, he left when I
was really little. I was close to my mum, but she passed away …
almost two years ago now. I think she just wanted to hold on until I
graduated, so she could see it. She did see, and then some. I guess
I wanted her to see it as well… why I worked so hard. Wanted her to
be proud." He smiled tightly.

Angel looked at him. He saw blue and grey swirls of sadness in the
air. "I'm sure she was." He spoke softly. "I'm sorry that she's gone
for you."

"She was in pain. Really sick. But you know, I saw her the morning
she died." He shook his head looking down to try to hide the fact
his eyes were watering. Angel could see though. "And she was saying
things like, goodbye, I'll miss you when I'm gone, so I think she
knew her time was up."

He turned away to pretend to look at some of the other prisoners
work lying out on the table.

"Do you have any other family?"

"Maybe some on my Dad's side … but he didn't want to stay with us so
I'm not going to seek him out. Letting dogs lie and all that."

Dogs. How did that really go? Let sleeping dogs lie. Why? He shook
his head and added some lemon sunlight to the wind in his painting.

"My mother died when I was little, and my Da' …" He stopped.

His Da' died five years ago. Heart attack. He went back to the
painting.

"Your Dad?"

"He died as well."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't have any other family left." He said softly, frowning as
something edged up in his mind.

(…The doorbell rings. "Don't worry honey, I'll get it" so Darla
didn't have to leave the kids, it was way past their bedtime but
he'd let them stay up to watch more of the Simpsons Marathon that
was running. Walks down their hallway with its cream walls, along
the dusky spotless carpeting, more knocking at the door.
"Yeah, yeah, hold on."
Opens the door. A man and a woman stand there.
"Our car broke down," says the woman.
"Can we use your phone?"
"Sure – come in."
They both smile.)

"Angel! It's alright! Calm down Pet!"

He was shaking; the floor was hard under his back.

Floor?

He looked around, Will's face was anxiously staring down at him, one
of his arms under Angel's shoulder trying to lever him forward so he
was sitting. The other was cradling the back of his head, which was
aching.

"Come in, come in, come in." someone was saying.

"Shhh, its alright, breath Luv, slowly, in … and out." He was
speaking very calmly.

What?

The easel he was painting the view out his window was lying on the
ground, the stool beside it. Will pulled him up into a sitting
position.

What? Where had …

"Oh, Luv," Will said looking over Angel's shoulder worriedly. Angel
turned back, his head screaming as he did, to see Will's hand
covered with blood. "How do you feel? Can you walk?"

Will? What …

"happened?"

"You fell Ducks, don't worry, you're fine, you just cut yourself on
the cabinet as you went down."

"Fell?"

Did he? Don't remember.

Remembers … "Can we use your phone?" --- "Sure – come in."

… In the first aid room. How did they…?

"Shhh Angel, it's alright. Stop yelling."

He was sitting on the paper-sheeted bed, head down his hair pushed
forward. The back of his neck was sticky, but when he tried to feel
it with his fingers Will grabbed his hand, shaking his head
slightly.

"Oh, you goose, you've really done a number on yourself haven't
you?" Sally bubbled.

"Sally?"

She popped into view, smiling. He liked Sally.

"You're going to need a few stitches, Hun. You alright with that?"
She said bouncing over to the counter in the roo and pulling out
sterilised equipment.

"Stitches … for what?" he asked Will worriedly. He looked behind him
on the bed and saw spots of blood and quite a few strands of
bloodied cut hair.

"You have a cut on the back of your head. From when you fell."

"Fell?"

"Don't worry your head, Angel." Will smiled sympathetically.

Sally turned back. "Alrighty – I'm just going to clean it now? So it
will hurt a bit, but nothing unbearable."

He felt a wet, stinging sensation at the nape of his neck. Will
chuckled at the curl of his lips, and then pulled a quick face,
crossing his eyes and baring his teeth trying to make him smile.
Angel smiled at the effort.

"Okie dokes, now four stitches should do it. Do you want an
anathesic?"

"No thanks, just do it quickly."

She did do it quickly, and cleanly, Angel grimacing the whole way.

"There! Done, that wasn't so bad." She informed him as she took the
red stained things away. Blood. Blood. She came back for a second
and pulled the edge of his jumpsuit down in front so she could see
the word on his chest. She frowned.

"That's getting a little infected," She said slapping some peach-and-
disinfectant smelling cream onto it. "There we go, if it keeps
crusting yellow like that, come back, right?"

He nodded. Now the word was itchy, reminding him it was there and
what it said. Whore. Whore … Mikael was …

Will?

"… can walk?" Will was saying.

Angel stared at him. Was he asking if he could walk? He felt alright
now, his head was a little heavy but that was all. What happened to
his …

"painting?"

"What do you mean luv?" he said patiently.

"My painting?"

"Your painting's back in the art room. Do you want to go back?"

"Yes."

Sally pulled him back and slapped a bandage on the back of his neck,
pushing the top into his hair, and smiling at him as he and Will
left. As they walked down the corridor he reached up and felt the
bandage, realising Sally had trimmed the back of his hair, so it was
really short.

"She cut my hair."

"She had to, to put the stitches in. Come on, I'll take you to
Marge, she'll cut the rest of it even for you."

"It was getting a bit long."

"Yeah, a bit."

**~~**



Will watched Liam getting his hair cut and inwardly shook his head.
In his mind he replayed Liam suddenly kicking out against the easel
in terror, falling off the stool again and winced at the clunk of
his head against the wooden cabinet.
Ow.
He'd gotten really worried. He'd thought Liam had injured himself
badly when he didn't get up straight away. He had blacked out for a
few moments then woken up screaming and hyperventilating.

Marge was cutting his hair around the huge white bandage slapped to
the back of his head. The squiggly strands were diving to the floor
around Marge's feet. She cut it quickly, leaving the strands left
long enough so they brushed over Liam's eyebrows and the tops of his
ears. She had cut it so it showed his neck, anxiously watching his
reaction as the long pink scar came into view. He saw it and frowned
for a moment before starting to hum placidly. She finished cutting.

"Done, Angel. Be careful next time!" She half joked.

"Will do."


**

Will sat in his office and looked over his files. He quickly skimmed
through old newspaper articles about Liam's arrest and trials. He'd
had two, through a mistrial in the first. He frowned at the ideas
hinted in the articles. Not being from California, Will wasn't up to
date on Liam's case.

Liam was obviously not going to reveal sensitive information about
himself or his family very soon. He decided to get information about
the man in other ways.

He picked up the phone.

**


"Ms Sutherland?"

The Swedish looking blonde turned around, her briefcase almost
hitting someone as she obliviously searched the crowds of the
courthouse for who had called her name.

Will stepped forward. "Kate Sutherland?"

"Yes, that's me. And you are…?"

"I'm sorry," Will held out his hand. "I'm William Telleck. I'm a
psychiatrist. I'm working with someone you defended, Liam Alaise?"

She shook his hand. "Yes, I remember Liam. I thought he had a female
therapist." She said motioning for Will to walk with her.

"I'm new. Jana Calender actually gave me your details. I called your
office and they said to look here."

"So, Dr Telleck, what did you seek me out for?"

"I just wanted to ask about Liam. He still pleads his innocence." He
observed.

"Ah. Yes. He always did."

"But a jury said he did it."

"Yes."

"Do you believe he did?"

Kate stopped and looked at him with her icy blue eyes. "It doesn't
matter what I believe."

She continued walking.

"But," Will said, striding after her, "I read in a newspaper
article, that, some of the evidence … didn't point to him, pointed
to other people being in the house with him."

"Yep."

"So?" Will prodded impatiently.

"So what, Dr Telleck, what do you want me to say? He had a good
chance. We were going with a straight out `not guilty' charge, but
had to change to `not guilty by reason of insanity' after a
mistrial."

"What happened, it doesn't say specifically, just that a mistrial
occurred."

Kate sighed and pulled him out of the people-traffic. "He was
insane. That's what happened. He stood up in the middle of his trial
and yelled about vampires and how we were all food. He screamed
sporadically, and sobbed for no reason. The jury wanted to convict,
I knew it. He was heading the right way for a needle in his arm. So
the next stunt he pulled, which included trying to hide under the
desk, I called a mistrial."

"You didn't want him killed."

"Dr Telleck, I'm a lawyer, I want to get the least amount of
punishment possible because that's my job. Okay? Not because I have
misguided sense of … of" she waved her hand around agitated.

"The right thing to do?" Will said quietly. "You didn't want him
convicted because you thought he didn't do it."

"I explained my side. I'm late, Dr Telleck, if you want to talk
further, make an appointment." She turned on her kitten heel and
strode off into the throng of bodies.

*

"So why are you here exactly Dr Telleck?" Melinda Warner asked,
working on a blue body as Will stood in the doorway to the ME lab.

"I'm just doing background research. On Liam Alaise? I'd like to
know about –"

"His family." She said, looking up, her taut face smiling slightly.
She held one long gloved finger up motioning for him to wait for her.

He did, sitting on some uncomfortable chairs out in the hallway as
Dr Warner finished up. When she was done she poked her dark face
around the door and motioned him in with a smile. He followed.

She stood at a white computer in the white room in her white coat
and Will suddenly felt very sterilised. "Here, I've pulled his file.
Two minors and one adult female."

"You keep them all?"

"Business records basically." She smiled at him; "They're useful
today."

"Well, yes. Anything of note in there?"

She clucked her tongue, scanning through the file. "Apart from the
viciousness of the crime, not much."

"How did they die?"

"The woman – massive head trauma, she had a fracture in the back of
her skull that I think was the killing blow. The eldest boy's body
shut down to shock and blood-loss, the youngest was due to a
collapse of his lungs. When his stomach contents was tested, we
found bleach had eaten away at the lining, so we tested his lungs
and the same deterioration. Plus they were filled with the liquid.
He'd breathed it in, drowned on it."

Will stared down, feeling a little sick. "Time?"

"I put the woman as dying last. The youngest died first, maybe about
one thirty am estimated by the bruising on his body and the room
temperature, the second at about two fifteen am with the same tests,
and then the woman at about three am according to temperature in the
room and the rigour." She said scanning through the pages of notes
scrolling up the screen.

Will nodded.

"They'd all been considerably abused for length of time, beginning
with the eldest boy at about ten thirty the previous night. All were
beaten and raped repeatedly, with abnormal swellings and contusions,
scrapes and cuts in anal and the woman had vaginal bruising,
indicating the use of foreign objects, some of them sharp. All had
bleach in their stomachs and they had all been douched with some
sort of abrasive chemical cleanser. All three victims had multiple
bone fractures, organ swelling and internal bleeding – the worst
with the youngest. The wife and youngest son were also violated post-
mortem."

Will couldn't meet her strong, levelled gaze. All he could hear was
Liam talking about his drawings.

"Only found Liam's semen in the woman, she hadn't had a vaginal
douche."

She scrolled through some files. "Blood tests were inconclusive…"

"Inconclusive?"

"Yeah we found blood on the woman, that wasn't hers. But when we
tested it …"

"It didn't match up to Liam's?"

"Well yes and no, as I said, inconclusive. We couldn't prove or
disprove it was someone else's blood either way."

"So there's a chance someone else may have been there?"

"A chance, yes. But then, who?"

Will was starting to get a little icy. "I though it was innocent
until proven guilty?"

Melinda looked back calmly. "There's also `proof beyond reasonable
doubt'."

They stared at each other, Melinda's strange smug smile still on her
face.

"But, there were a few things I thought would get him a lower jail
sentence if not off completely."

"What's that?"

"There were bruises consistent with a women's handprints on the
boys."

"A woman was there?"

Melinda pulled a file up on her screen, a close photo of a small
white underdeveloped ribcage, with two sets if smeared black spots
dotting the flesh in a pattern.

"Maybe. The wife may have abused her children; the bruises were
definitely fresh. Done at the same time as the rest of the abrasions
that night." She pointed to the heavier dots, `those are finger tip
bruises, see it a lot on rape cases, and those,' she pointed to the
lengthy lighter bruises spreading out from the points, `those are
the length of the fingers. That is either a woman's hand span or a
very diminutive man's. Not a child's. This is a picture of the
youngest boy by the way."

Will committed the picture to memory. "You said a few things, what
else?"

"Well the fact that bleach was used repeatedly, but the police
searched that house for three days and there was no bleach to be
found and … other missing things. The cuts of the evisceration of
the woman's stomach were consistent with a long serrated curved
weapon, and nothing fits the description. The doctors that did the
workup on Liam Alaise say he didn't go outside after he blacked out.
So he didn't get rid of anything, all the other tools were still
there and they match up."

"Why hide some things … and not others?" Will muttered, more to
himself, to make sure he remembered to write it down.

"Well, yes. Also I heard Liam Alaise himself had a rape kit done on
him."

"He was raped that night?"

"That's the rumour, no semen, so maybe with the foreign objects that
the others were."

"And no one brought this up in trial?" Will's voice was verging on
shrill.

"Yes, they did, but he could have done it to himself, Dr Telleck."

"Oh yeah? Did he somehow get a woman's hand to inflict those bruises
as well?"

Melinda stared at him calmly. "Liam didn't do himself any favours in
trial."

"You were there?"

"For some. He yelled about how God was going to eat him. Sounds like
a guilty conscience to any normal person."

Will ran his hands through his hair. "What do you think?"

"If he did it, he wasn't alone. I testified in his trial. Those
handprints weren't his. But then again, what do I know? I'm just the
M.E.." She smiled, and flicked off the computer.


**


He made it back to his apartment and sighed, leaning his head back
against the closed door. He was drained. He just wanted to sleep.

He'd been to the library and sat for a couple of hours to find and
read everything they had on the Alaise Case. After re-reading some
inane paragraph for the fourth time he decided it was time to go.
He'd grabbed some dinner on the way home, a pork roll from a dirty
tiled grocery store that was closing up.
He'd rung the ward, happy to hear the Liam was fine, and read the
red digital numbers of his clock as quarter past eleven.

He sighed again, and it turned into a yawn.

The red light on his machine was blinking.

He flicked it, and perked up as a familiar British voice spoke
hesitantly through the speaker.

"Ah, Hello .. Will. It's me, Wesley… Whyndam-Price, that is. " Will
smiled at the timid words. "Uh, well, I was just ringing you, I got
your number from Julia Stein and I was just ringing to, ah, maybe …
if you're not busy you could maybe show me around California. I'm at
the Century Plaza Hotel and Spa … in room 418 … if you want to reach
me that is. I'm in town on a conference and –"

The beep cut off Wesley's voice and Will laughed. Wesley was a
researcher for the World Psychiatric Association and was really
rather shy, when he wasn't talking about the different types of
dementia, which were his specialties. He was also the first man
William had ever been to bed with. Wesley was tall and lanky, with
grey eyes he hid behind glasses that were the wrong shape for his
face. His hair was short, or was the last time Will had seen him,
and slicked back from his temples. When he smiled he showed almost
all his teeth, and his whole body would flush red against the white
of Will's bedsheets, his knees digging into Will's sides when he
would tell him he was beautiful.

He played the message again, his eyes straying over a picture that
had been drawn by a careful hand. A picture of himself with his new
short hair. He ran his blunt fingernail over the lines, tenderly. He
wondered what Liam was doing. He wondered if he should call to make
sure the wardsman knew not to give Liam painkillers with his
medication, cause it could make him sick. Maybe he could leave out a
few of the tablets so Liam could take an aspirin or two, because the
gash on his head would keep him awake. Actually, if he swapped the -


He angrily shook his head and snatched up the phone. "Hello? Yes,
could you put me through to room 418, Welsey Whyndam-Price? Thanks."


**


He walked down the corridor to the art room, humming a few bars of …
something. It didn't really matter. He walked in the door to the art
room and saw Liam sitting in the afternoon sunlight, painting. He
had a spot of blue next to his nose and some yellow across his neck.
William smiled.

"Will. I heard you would come to see me today."

"Who'd you hear that from, luv'ly?"

"The bird sand it to me." He grinned secretively. "I won't tell you
what else he sang about…"

Will pouted. "Why not?"

Clear laughter erupted from him, his smile crinkling the blue paint
on his face. "Secret."

"You like secrets then?"

"I like them."

"You've been keeping us a secret then?"

Liam put down his paintbrush and cocked his head, still smiling. "I
wouldn't tell anyone."

"Whys that again?"

"Cause. Other people would think its bad."

Will walked up and stood beside him, finger brushing his dark shiny
hair back from his face with one hand as he tipped the chin up,
marvelling at the beauty of the face upturned into the sunlight,
calm and pliant. "Do you think it's bad sweets?"

"No. Not bad." He whispered. "Good. Beautiful."

"You're beautiful." He said leaning down to kiss him, hearing Liam
moan into his lips. "Good and beautiful."

"Will…"

"Shhh." He leant down again but this time his hand travelled down as
well, reaching inside the blue uniform and popping the stud buttons,
exposing the chest, the short hair across it. He kept pushing until
his hand was running back and forth over Liam's stomach and then
pushed further still. Into the cotton boxers and around the hard wet
cock, his knuckles brushing into the curls.

"Inside, Daddy …" he asked, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Will groaned. That look did wicked things to him. "Inside you, Pet?"

Liam nodded, eyes wide, blue and yellow patches of paint bright
against his skin. He swallowed, hard and stood up, pushing his long
fingers in between Will's legs, cupping and rubbing. He was meowing,
like a cat and it made Will's hair stand on end. He wrapped his
hands around the exposed ribs and pushed him back onto one of the
rickety art tables. He pulled the rest of the uniform off, and
reached his hand inside his jeans to rub some relief into his
excited cock as Liam's thighs spread open as far as they could, his
feet on the seat below the table. His head was up off the table,
watching with eager excited eyes.

Will shucked his jeans down and pulled his length out, stroking
quickly at the sight. He panted. Liam was squirming on the tabletop,
clenching his stomach and thighs, the tiny hole he's soon fill,
clenching as he wriggled.

"No! Will," Liam looked distressed.

"What is it?" Will asked, the stroking stopping.

Liam sat up and reached out for him pulling him towards his naked
body as he lay back down. Will leant over him, quickly reaching down
to adjust Liam's cock so it wasn't hurt by the angle. He could feel
it digging into the dip just inside his hipbone. "What's wrong? Tell
me Pet."

"I want to feel you come inside me." He said. Molten sex. "Deep –"

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Will gasped a little as the alarm clock woke him up. He looked
anxiously around his empty room and rubbed his eyebrows. Through the
gaps in his fingers he looked down to see himself tenting the bed
sheet. He sighed loudly and lay back down.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

He had to stop dreaming about him like this. He was dreaming about
having sex with a mental patient for god's sake!

This was not normal.

The fantasy of Liam stretched out on the table, opened and willing
make his balls ache liked they'd been pinched.

This was disgusting.

His cock didn't seem to think so. He glared at it, willing the
erection to disappear, his lips curled up.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

He turned the glare to the alarm clock and picked it up angrily,
throwing it overarm into the wall and watching in psychotic glee as
it smashed into little plastic pieces.

"Take that, fucker."

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