Greetings loyal readers. I am glad to see you have returned to my humble blog. I fear my language may appear strange in this story. I kept catching myself speaking in such a drab and old sounding voice(which in this situation of course means in the written sense and not the spoken) that I had to keep correcting myself. You see I watched some episodes of the Borgias today and that made quite a mark on my internal narration. I hope you don't mind. But please enjoy the now longest part of this increasingly large short story.
Part 9.
Marcus
came to handcuffed to a chair. His head was heavy and throbbing from
the blow. He looked around and saw people staring and pointing. For
the moment he could not recognize them. One of them began to
approach. Marcus finally recognized her as a police officer. She
looked him in the eyes.
“You're
a real lucky bastard. Your buddy Thomas is hurt pretty bad, but he
refuses to press charges. I think you had better look yourself in the
mirror and ask yourself what your problem is.” the officer began to
take the cuffs off. “You're not going to assault me too are you? I
wouldn't advise it.”
“No, I
won't attack you, officer.” Marcus still felt like his head was on
the verge of collapsing in on itself, but it was holding together for
now at least. “Am I free to go?”
“We're
gonna need a statement then you are free to get yourself home. Your
wife is waiting over there.” the officer pointed at Abigail. Marcus
looked at her, but he didn't want her to be here. He didn't want to
see her. She looked very distraught. She was talking to Thomas who
was being looked after by a paramedic. Marcus felt the rage boil up
again. He looked away for what little good it would do.
“I
think I would sit here awhile. I fear my head isn't well. The pain is
quite intense.” Marcus did not lie, but his exaggeration seemed to
be enough. The officer asked for his version of the story and then
she left. Marcus was glad he wasn't going to jail, but he couldn't
help but feel indignant that he was at Thomas' mercy.
Thomas
always envied Marcus, Marcus knew this deep down. Ever since they met
it had been Marcus who had everything. Thomas was in short term
relationship after relationship. Thomas was never the top designer.
Thomas was nothing without Marcus, yet somehow Thomas was stealing
Marcus' world.
Abigail
looked over and saw Marcus staring. She started walking over he
looked away, but it was too late as her hand rested on his shoulder.
“Oh
Marcus, what has gotten into you? Marcus look at me. You're scaring
everyone who loves you.” her woulds were desperate and sad. Perhaps
he could care for her, but never Thomas again.
“Thomas
tries to steal everything. I have worked so hard. And Thomas thinks
he just deserves it.” Marcus growled through his throbs of pain.
“You
are mistaken Marcus. Thomas wants nothing, but good for you. He had
tried to dissuade Mr. Blake from promoting him over you. He told me
all about it. He didn't want you to know. But Mr. Blake said he
wouldn't even consider you. You were too valuable as a full-time
designer. Marcus listen to me. We all love you so much. Whatever is
going on inside your head, just come back to us.” she said all the
right things. Marcus couldn't believe them. He knew what he had seen
and heard with his own eyes and ears. The door was showing him truth
in a world of lies. These people didn't love him.
“I
want you to move out, Abigale. Go live with Thomas. I know its what
you both want. I saw the way he touched your thigh that time and the
way you giggled with excitement. Just go. I'm through with you.” he
saw the tears now. She was a convincing actress. Perhaps she should
had gone to Hollywood. Abigail walked away in confusion. Marcus
smiled to himself as she went to the paramedic. The paramedic nodded
and followed her back over.
“Hello
Marcus. I'm just gonna look at your eyes. I hope you don't mind. We
just need to make sure you didn't sustain a head injury. They are
quite common in these sort of situations.” Marcus was complicit
though he did not like that Abigail still stood there. Her tears were
breaking his resolve. “Good, good. Now let me check the wound. Tell
me how badly does this hurt.” A sharp pain went through Marcus'
entire skull as if he was struck yet again.
“Shit,
that hurt like hell you fucking idiot.” Marcus about punched the
man, but stopped himself.
“Good.
You seem in perfect health for having a bronze statue blasted against
your skull. There appears to be no fractures, but we will take you in
and get your skull x-rayed, alright?” the man was entirely too
cheerful. Marcus hated him already, but he grasped at any opportunity
to get away from Abigail now.
“Just
take me there now. And don't let her ride with us. I don't want to
see her.” Marcus was placed on a stretcher and rolled away. It felt
better to be away from Abigail, but his realities were fighting none
the less. Marcus wondered to himself is Mr. Blake really didn't
promote him because he was too valuable.
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