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.
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.