"NO! Please don't kill me!" Sara backed up, tears streaming down her cheeks. A tiny laugh echoed through the room. "Shut up, Bitch!" A long dark hared woman stepped through the door pointing a gun at Sara.
Sara silently prayed as she was backed up against a wall, she blindly groped for anything she could use as a weapon. "Bitch don't even think about it!" Sara knew there was nothing she could do, she also prayed that her Husband wouldn't come home and get killed. Sara found her voice. "Why? Please why are you doing this?" The tears now flooded her eyes even more making it difficult to see. The woman just snickered. "You! I've hated you for years! I loved him, more that you ever could!"
bam bam bam. Three gunshots rang out.
Mark opened the front door, a tiny smile crept at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't wait to surprise Sara with the champagne he bought. God, it's been ages sense we made love! She'll be surprised that I've got the week off.
"Sara!" He called out sitting a grocery sack down next to the lamp stand. "Sara!" He called out. He looked up at the clock to see what time it was. 7:30? She's usually home by then.
He walked to their bedroom, but something smelled odd. What the fuck is that smell? God it smells like dried blood! He flipped the light switch on and…he just froze, eyes wide with fear.
Sara Callaway sat on the floor next to the bed spread eagle, a single gunshot wound to the head. Her eyes were still open, frozen in an expression of absolute horror. "SARA!" He screamed, the bottle of champagne dropped from his nerveless fingers. He rushed over to his wife, picking her hand up feeling for a pulse: Nothing. "Oh God Sara!" He laid her on the floor, pinching her nose shut. He took 5 breaths, sealing his lips over hers. He started pumping her chest. 12345! 12345! Please God, let her wake up! Mark silently prayed as he pumped her chest, trying to get a rise. He kept trying until he couldn't breath himself. He laid his forehead on her chest, tears leaking under his tightly shut eyelids.
Mark buried his face in her shirt, his tears wetting her shirt. Mark lent back, moving his hands up to her face, gently trailing his fingertips agenst her cheeks.
Mark sat on the bed, he couldn't even look at Sara without feeling like he was being choked. He reached over grabbing the phone, quickly dialing his brother's number. After a few seconds Mark heard a familiar voice.
"Yeah." Glenn yawned. Mark tried to talk but nothing would come out, only a small whimper. "Hello?" The voice asked curiously.
"Glenn…" Mark whispered. Glenn recognized the voice. "Mark? What is it?"
Mark choked again trying to talk. "Oh God…Glenn…Sara…shot." Glenn pieced the words together. "Sara's been shot! Oh shit! How is she?" The way Mark was crying Glenn figured it was pretty bad, Mark never cried. "She's dead…" There was silence on the other side. "Oh damn…Mark I'm coming over, don't do anything stupid! I'll be there in a few." Mark hung up the phone turning back to his wife, he started rocking again like a small child.
Glenn prayed that mark wouldn't do anything stupid, Mark was very emotional when it came to loved ones. Glenn practically ran up the steps to the house. "Mark!" He called out. A voice rang out from above. "Glenn…"
"Oh my God…no." Glenn whispered when he saw Mark kneeling next to Sara, shoulders hunched over, sobbing uncontrollably. Glenn gently rubbed Mark's back trying to calm him down. "Hey, Big Bro'…" Glenn whispered. "She's dead." Mark repeated again, Mark's chest began heaving almost spazmationaly.
Glenn sat with his brother a few more minutes. "Mark I'm gonna have to call the police, stay right here." Glenn patted Mark's shoulder before going to the bed to make the call.
Hours later Mark sat on the couch as an officer asked him a bunch of questions. Most of the questions Mark just nodded numbly or whispered a 'yes' or 'no'. "Okay sir we have the information. But we have to have an Investigator look through the house for any clues to whom done this. We need you to leave for a short while, is that okay?" Mark only nodded. The officer looked through his paperwork. "They have taken your wife to the city morgue for examination."
Mark sat on Glenn's couch staring expressionlessly at the wall. "Mark? Do you want any thing to drink?" "No. I think I'll lie down for a while." "Um, okay." Glenn watched his older brother stumble into the spare bedroom. God I hope he doesn't do anything stupid.
Mark sat on the sparsely covered bed, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Fuck it! He sniffled. If I'd been there a little earlier like I'd wanted to I'd…would have been able to save her! I always let everyone down!
Mark lent over turning the radio on...Great! Mark though sarcastically.
''And it turns out that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train heading your way.'' Mark liked Metallica, but right now he was no mood for their songs, he quickly turned the radio off. He sat thinking about the lyrics. Sara…She was the soothing light…Mark managed to break down again. He pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes.
Few days later Mark still sat on the bed, blankly staring out the window. A soft knock brought Mark back. "What?" Glenn opened the door, peeking in. "Mark are you okay? Do you wanna go somewhere?" Mark continued to look through the window. "No." Glenn sighed. "Mark, I have the funeral arrangements. I also called your lawyer and he's drawing up the will Sara made out a few years ago, Do you want to have a look at em'?" Glenn placed the papers beside Mark on the bed. Mark looked down at the papers. "I don't even wanna think about it." Glenn sighed. "Mark, you gonna deal with this sooner or later." Mark turned away from Glenn. "Go away!" Glenn slammed the door but Mark could still hear his voice. "You selfish Son of a Bitch! I cared for her too, like a sister!" Glenn sighed. "I'm sorry, Mark. It's just that I cared for her too. She always felt like a sister to me, a sister I never had. I didn't mean to yell."
A few hours later Mark lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. "Sara..." Mark whispered. The tears flooded his eyes again, coursing down his face. God I miss her…Without her there's no reason to live, no FUCKING reason! She was the only thing I had to look forward seeing. Now she's gone…OH God Sara why did you have to die!
Mark broke down again a month after the funeral. Mark sat dead still through the whole thing, his eyes were the only thing that showed any grief. His eyes were bright red, an eerie red.
Mark had become so completely withdrawn that Glenn became worried. Mark hardly ever left the room, only to use the bathroom. Not even to eat. Everyday he asked if Mark was hungry. No. The reply was always no. Glenn felt his frustration boil to the surface. "Goddammit! I'm gonna make him eat something, even if it kills me!"
Glenn shoved the door open, and like most of the time Mark was sitting at the window staring out of it. Blankly staring at the lawn. "Mark!" Glenn bellowed. Mark turned his head slightly, glancing at Glenn. Glenn froze when he really saw how Mark looked. His eyes were red and blood-shot. Mark usually pale skin became paler, he even seemed to be loosing weight.
"Mark, man you've gotta eat something." Mark turned back to the window. "I'm not hungry." Came the same reply Glenn had been receiving for weeks. "You're killing yourself Mark, eat it!" Glenn dropped the tray on the small bedside table. "I don't care. I don't give a damn anymore." Mark crossed his now, less muscular arms. "Mark you are gonna eat, if I have to shove it down your throat!" Mark's arm swung around topping the table, spilling the food onto the floor. The action surprised Glenn.
The next day Glenn did managed to get Mark to eat a small bowl of soup, but that was it and mark said he only ate to shut him up. Glenn watched at Mark slept most of the day, getting up at night to go to the bathroom; then right back to bed.
Mark woke up one night nearly screaming. His heart pounded in his chest, a knot rose in Mark's throat, he forced it back down as he remembered seeing his wife sitting on the floor dead. But this dream was different than what really happened.
Mark came home to find to find Sara sitting dead on the floor. Mark cried out running over to her feeling for a pulse. When Mark realized she was dead, he dropped his head to her chest, sobbing into it. Suddenly mark felt a hand on the back of his head, patting it. Mark gasped when he tilted his head to see Sara's eyes open, she was smiling down at him. "Mark…honey." Her voice seemed bittersweet. "Sara your alive!" Mark yelled wrapping his arms around her, really hugging her.
After a few minutes Sara spoke again. "Mark, I'm still dead." Mark pushed back, staring at her. "What?" Sara wiped the blood from her forehead. "And thanks to you I'll always be dead!" Her voice turned to a deep baritone. "Mark it's your fucking fault, if you had been there I'd still be alive!" Mark stumbled backwards as he finally got a good look at his wife's face. Her skin had paled, and under her eyes he see spots of rotting flesh. "Sara I didn't know. I love you! I..I didn't want you to be hurt!" Sara lunged at Mark grabbing the front of his shirt lifting him high. "Son of a bitch! I'm dead and it's your fault!"
Mark kept having the dream almost every night. It got to the point where mark was afraid to even sleep. Downstairs Glenn could hear Mark pacing the floor.
Again Mark sat at the window staring at the ground below, his entire body sagged in the chair. His skin became even paler, his eyes almost looked like they had shrunken. I can't go on like this! I don't even want to live, what's the point if I do? I'll just be miserable.
Mark wiped at the tears the reformed in the corner of his eyes. I wish I were dead…God please kill me! Mark whole frame began shuddering as he hunched over sobbing.
Mark stood at the top of the stairs watching Glenn grabbing his car keys. Mark stood against the wall so Glenn couldn't see him. Glenn grabbed his coat, he called out to Mark thinking he was still in his room. "Mark I'll be back in a while!" Mark waited until he heard the engine start up and pull out of the driveway. Mark made his way downstairs, the first time in at least 3 months. Blurred images ran through his mind, Images of finding Sara dead, other images of all the dreams he had about Sara telling him it was his fault. Mark stopped by a full length mirror to glimpse at his reflection. Mark stopped dead still. He couldn't even tell it was his own reflection. His skin was so pale he almost looked like he did when he wore that fake white paint to make himself look dead, in the early days. His eyes looked hollow, his cheek bones were pronounced, his skin also looked like was hanging off his bones. "God…I look…like a dead man." Mark wiped the tears away, recently all he had been able to do was cry.
Mark made his way to the kitchen, he began opening cabinets looking for something. Mark pulled out a glittering Butcher knife, he stared for a while into the blade.
Mark cleared his throat, fearing it would choke up on him. "Sara, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. I…I wanted too. Babe, don't worry I'll join you soon."
Mark hesitated a moment, saying a quick prayer that whatever God there was, he have mercy on him. Before Mark could change his mind, he quickly brought the knife to his left wrist. Mark grunted in pain, he then slit his other wrist.
Mark blindly stumbled to his room, sitting on the bed. He laid down, then very strangely he felt…no pain. His entire body was numb from the loss of blood. Darkness pricked at his consciousness, making him fell sleepy. Before he knew what was happening he passed out.
Glenn opened the front door, opening the sack that read HOSPITAL PHARSMY.
He pulled out a small box of Prozac and a few other mood altering drugs. God I hope this makes him fill better, if it doesn't then he'll have to go to a therapist.
Glenn knocked on Mark's door. "Mark! I'm back open the door." A few minutes passed and still no reply. "Mark wake up!" Still no answer. Panic began to run through his chest. What it something happened to him while he was away?
Glenn knocked again. Glenn tried opening the door to find that it was locked. But he knew it was only a small chain lock. Glenn pushed a little harder causing the chain to snap. The door swung open, Glenn stood in the doorway, the medicine dropped from his hands when he saw Mark. "Oh sweet Jesus!" Mark laid stretched out the bed, his arms bloody. A butcher knife in one hand. The blood had stained the sheets turning it a oddly colored pink.
Mark awoke with a slightly throbbing pain in both arms, his eyes tightly closed. Am I dead? He tried moving his arms, but he couldn't, they felt like lead. He slowly opened his eyes all he saw was a blinding white light. Is this Heaven?
He blinked a couple times, then everything came into focus. "A hospital?" He croaked hoarsely. The walls were completely white, nearly blinding him. "Shit!" He whispered as he felt a dull throbbing behind his eyes. Mark blinked down at the IV's and tubes that ran to his arm. He grimaced again.
A few minutes a later the door to the room pushed open, a nurse walked in pushing a medicine cart. "Good, your awake!" She smiled cheerfully at him, but there was something about it that seemed fake. Great! The whole hospital probably knows about me cuttin' myself!
"Mr. Calloway, it's now time for your painkillers." She smiled again. God, he wished she'd stop with the cheesy fluff. Mark began to lift a hand to take the medicine when he realized that he couldn't move his arms. "The hell…" Mark mumbled. His wrist's were bandaged up, but were also restrained with fur lined cuffs to the bedrails. "Get this shit offa me, now!" His voice boomed in the tiny room. The nurse shrank back, fear showing on her face. "I…I'm…sorry sir, but I can't!" Mark roughly yanked on the restraints causing them to painfully tighten on his arms.
Mark lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Goddammit! I can't do anything right! I can't even kill myself!" A few tears slid down his cheeks. He felt even more depressed and the nurses coming in feeding him by hand didn't make him feel any better. He felt like a helpless child being force-fed.
"Leave me Alone!" Mark's voice rumbled in the tiny room. The nurse squealed in fear nearly dropping the tray. "But sir you have to.." Mark anger became greater. "I said Leave me the FUCK alone!"
She quickly ran from the room. Glenn lent against the wall outside of Mark's room when he heard Mark yell. Glenn came storming into the room. "Mark, stop making an ass of yourself! Let them do their work, their just trying to help you!"
Mark turned his head to the side. "NO, Dammit! I don't want anything!" Glenn rubbed his face. "Mark…Your killing me when you do this!"
----------------------------------------------
"I wish it was killing me instead." He mumbled to himself. He turned his eyes back up to his brother. They were beginning to redden again. The new onslaught of tears began.
"Glenn…what…what's gonna happen?" He asked. His voice sounding like a small child. His voice cracked. He bit down on his lip hard, a thin trail of blood leaked down. With all his efforts he still couldn't stop the sobs. Glenn gripped his shoulder tightly. "I don't know Bro. But I'll be there for you."
Suddenly a nurse came in bearing a few blankets. She stopped and deposited them on the chair next to the bed. Mark managed to stop the tears but the tear tracks and the shimmering red eyes were a dead giveaway.
The tall long dark-haired woman came to stand next to the bed. "Mark Callaway? Is that you?" she asked.
Mark looked up at her and his eyes widened. "Martha?" He stared up at her.
Glenn asked. "you two know each other?" they both nodded. "Well I guess I'll let you two alone." He gave his brother a pat on the shoulder before leaving.
She glanced down at the fur lined cuffs keeping him bound to the bed and the thick bandages around his wrists.
"What happened?" The former phenom turned away, looking ashamed. "Oh my God…did you try to kill yourself?" He turned the side of his face against the pillow, unable to look at her. She touched the side of his face, trailing her finger tips. "What happened Mark?"
He looked up and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "It's about Sara." She grabbed the chair, bringing it closer to the bed. She sat down and leaned against the guard railing of the bed, folding her arms she rested her chin against her arms.
"Did she leave you?" She asked, staring intently at him. He tried to swallow the reformed lump in is throat.
"No…She was…murdered. Some bastard killed her…" His voice choked.
She gasped. "Shit…really? Oh damn…Mark I am so sorry. So…you couldn't live without her?" Tears formed at the corners of his eyes.
"She's…She's my love…I'd gladly give up my life if I knew it would bring her back. Some fucking bastard took away the love of my life!"
She gently laid a hand on his forehead, brushing away the damp tangles of hair that had matted down. She bent forward placing a kiss on his forehead. He looked up at her.