The Notebook

Challenge #27: has to be Mark-centric, and can include any other characters. Basically, this is the back story: Mark likes to analyze life and himself. He keeps a notebook, in which he has written a description/analysis of himself as a person. Someone finds it and find that they disagree with it.

Chapter 1:

Maureen slowly opened her eyes and rolled over. Her boyfriend, Mark, was sitting on the edge of the bed writing in his precious notebook. The diva sat up and wrapped her arms around Mark's thin shoulders.

"Morning Pookie," she whispered before kissing Mark's jaw several times. Mark closed his notebook and put it to the side. "How long have you been up?" Mark shrugged.

"About twenty minutes or so. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."
"What were you so busily writing?"
"What is this twenty questions or something? I was writing something, that's it." Maureen pouted.

"Come back to bed for a while," she purred as she pulled Mark back into bed. Maureen straddled him and began to kiss him passionately. Mark ran his fingers through the diva's hair and kissed her back.

Later on, Maureen was sitting in the middle of the bed reading a magazine. Mark came in and kissed her cheek.

"I'm going to go out filming, you want to come?" he asked. Maureen stopped to think.

"I think I'll stay here. I have a protest to plan. Maybe tomorrow Pookie." Mark kissed her lightly and put his notebook on the dresser.

"Okay, I'll be back later. Roger and April are out too." Maureen sighed; she knew what that meant. Roger and April were out getting high somewhere. "Love you honey."

"I love you too." Maureen watched Mark grab his camera bag and leave.

As soon as Maureen was sure that Mark was gone, she scrambled off the bed and grabbed his notebook. She had to find out what Mark was writing. Maureen flipped through the tattered notebook. There were mostly notes about his screenplays, to-do lists, various words and ideas. Maureen stopped at what looked like a diary entry.

Things are horrible here at the loft. Ever since April showed up, she and Roger have always been high. This isn't the Roger I know, and I feel like I could have prevented this. Roger and I have best friends for years. I should have said no when April asked to move in, but I couldn't. I need to put a stop to this before it goes too far.

Maureen tucked one of her legs under her and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Mark seemed so happy on the outside. Maybe, hopefully, it was just that one entry. Maureen flipped to the latest entry, the one from earlier that morning.

Maureen's still asleep. She's so beautiful, so perfect. Sometimes, I feel like I don't deserve someone like her. Maureen's so bubbly, so full of life; whenever I film her, the screen lights up with her warm smile and lively eyes. Back in high school, I never thought that I'd have a chance with her, and I still think that at times. I love Maureen with all my heart, but I can't help but wonder why she picked someone like me.

Slowly, Maureen closed the notebook. She got up off the bed and replaced it exactly where she had gotten it so Mark wouldn't suspect anything. Maureen laid down in bed, her mind reeling. Mark was on the brink of depression. In his eyes, everything was his fault, and he never did anything right. Maureen sighed. She had to help Mark, but at the same time, she didn't want him to know that she had read his notebook.

When Mark got back to the loft, Maureen was sprawled out on their bed asleep. The filmmaker rolled his eyes. All Maureen did was sleep. Mark climbed into bed and kissed her cheek. Maureen mumbled something and rolled over. Mark ran his fingers through her dark waves. She was perfect, like an angel. The loft door slid open, and in clambered Roger and April. Sighing, Mark got up. He had to tell them to quiet down so they wouldn't wake Maureen. They were high, and Mark hated that.

Chapter 3:

The following morning, Mark was in the kitchen reading the Village Voice when April stumbled out of her and Roger's bedroom.

"Morning," Mark said. April got herself a cup of coffee and sat down across from the filmmaker.

"Morning yourself," she said as she stared into her mug. It looked like she was waiting of the contents to reveal some sort of deep dark secret. The two drank their coffee in silence. Finally, April stood up and put her mug in the sink. "Tell Roger that I'm going to shower." Mark nodded. Something seemed off about April.

"You okay?" April nodded.

"Never better." April stopped at the bathroom door. "Hey Mark…" Mark looked up. "Umm, never mind." Mark watched April disappear in the bathroom. Part of Mark wanted to follow her to find out what was wrong, but he heard the shower running. He had missed his chance.

Mark started to get worried when April didn't come out of the bathroom after the shower water stopped running. Collins and Roger were up, and April was still in the bathroom. Now, all three Boho boys were getting a little worried. Roger got up and began to knock on the bathroom door.

"Come on April, you've been in there for ages. Come on out baby," he said as he knocked on the door. "April?" Roger opened the door and stumbled backwards.

"What's wrong boy?" Collins asked. He froze. "Oh Lord." April's lifeless body was in the bathtub. There was blood all over the place and a note taped to the mirror.

A pain filled scream shattered Maureen's sleep. She flew out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. In the front room, Roger was sitting on the couch sobbing. This caused Maureen to stop. Roger, the emotionless rocker, was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mark, don't you see that note!? Get the hell out of here!" collies exclaimed. Mark came out of the bathroom with blood on his undershirt and hands.

"What's going on? Whose blood is that!?" cried Maureen. Mark washed his hands in the kitchen sink and brushed past Maureen. "Mark! Tell me!"

"I have to go change my shirt, Mo," he said firmly. Maureen went over to the bathroom. She grabbed the doorframe to balance herself. Collins was on all fours cleaning up April's blood. The anarchist looked up.

"Get out of here Mo. Call 911 to report a suicide!" Maureen nodded, but she couldn't get her legs to move. "Go!" Maureen broke out of her trance and grabbed the phone. This couldn't be happening, this just couldn't be happening.

The medical examiner's office came and took April's body away. Roger had locked himself in his room. His sob could be heard through the thin walls. Maureen got herself a cup of coffee and curled up on the couch. She knew she should be upset about April's suicide, but oddly, she wasn't. Maureen was crying for Roger, and in a way, for Collins. They were both dying. Maureen had known about Collins for ages, but now it was all becoming a reality. Tears slid down the diva's cheeks. She felt Mark sit down next to her and pull her close. Wordlessly, Maureen buried her face in Mark's chest and continued to cry. Life was so unfair!

That night, Maureen picked up Mark's notebook and flipped to the latest entry. She had seen Mark writing in it earlier. The diva sat on the end of the bed and began to read.

AIDS. Roger has AIDS. April had AIDS. That's right…had. She killed herself this morning. I was the last person she had talked to. She almost told me something, but she stopped. If only I had listened, maybe things would be different. I know things would be different if I hadn't let April move it. My best friend is dying. He's twenty-two and dying, and it's all my fault. I can't stand feeling like this. Maybe I should…

Before Maureen could continue reading, a voice demanded, "What the hell are you doing!?"

A/N: Next chapter is the last!

Chapter 3:

Maureen looked up. Mark was standing in the doorway. He looked tired but livid. Maureen stood up and put the notebook on the bed.

"Mark-" she started.

"What are you doing?" Mark repeated. "Maureen, this is mine! I don't go through your personal stuff without your permission!"

"I know! I was curious, and I'm glad I read it. Mark, honey, talk to me. None of this is your fault." Maureen tried to wrap her arms around Mark's neck, but the filmmaker pulled away.

"I can't believe you read my notebook." Maureen sighed. "I can't believe you think that this is okay!"

"Mark, please. You're blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault! You're pushing me away when you need me the most!"

"I don't need anyone"

"Guys, please," Collins said from the doorway to their bedroom. "We don't need this right now. Please calm down, I just got Roger to fall asleep." Maureen nodded.

"Sorry," she mumbled. Without another word, she crawled into bed with her back to Mark.

The next morning, Maureen was up before Mark. She went out to the front room and found Collins sitting on the couch trying to do a crossword puzzle. Maureen sat down next to him and hugged her knees to her chest.

"You okay Mo?" asked Collins. Maureen shook her head.

"I'm worried about Mark. I read his notebook, and he's blaming himself for everything…even April. He's on the brink of depression, and I'm scared of what he's going to do." Collins squeezed Maureen's arm.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Maureen shook her head.

"He won't listen. Just keep an eye on him when I can't please." Collins nodded.

"Of course." The anarchist went back to his crossword puzzle, and Maureen stared out into space.

When Mark got up, he didn't look at Maureen. He simply got himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. Roger finally emerged from his room, fully dressed. Without so much as a backwards glance, he grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Collins.

"Out," Roger replied simply.

"Why don't you stay in today? There's a lot to do still, and you should be here to help."

"April's not even dead for twenty-four hours, and you already want to start planning her funeral!? Put her in a damn box, and put her in the fucking ground!"

"Roger…"

"Just, just leave me alone," Roger said through clenched teeth before turning back around. Maureen stood up. When she put her hand on Roger's shoulder, the rocker spun around and punched her. Stunned, Maureen stumbled back onto the ground. Collins got up and shoved Roger against the wall.

"What the hell is your problem!? Are you high? Do you even realize what you did? You just punched Maureen! You just punched one of your best friends!" Collins yelled. Mark handed Maureen an icepack.

"I'm fine," she said as she got up off the floor. She gave Roger a confused and disappointed look before retreating to her room to look at the damage he had done. When Roger tried to leave, Collins held him by the scruff of the neck.

"Let go of me Thomas," Roger mumbled.

"No way. One way or another, you're getting clean. You obviously haven't even comprehended what you did. You…punched…Maureen!" Roger broke free of Collins' grip and locked himself in his room.

Meanwhile, Maureen stood in front of the small mirror in her bedroom looking at where Roger had punched her.

Mark came into the bedroom and said, "Let me see." Without waiting for an answer, he took Maureen's face in his hands and looked at her cheek. He gently ran his thumb over the swollen skin.

"I'm fine, I don't need help," Maureen said. When she tried to walk away, Mark grabbed her arm. He saw what she was doing.

"I'm sorry, Mo," he said. "I'll talk if you want." Maureen took Mark's face in her hands.

"I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do." Mark kissed Maureen lightly on the lips.

"I want to talk to you."

Maureen sat on the bed with Mark's head in her lap. She gently ran her fingers through his hair and stroked his cheek.

"None of this is our fault Pookie," she said quietly.

"I know, but I can't help but feel that way. It was my idea to let April move in. maybe if I hadn't, everything would be different."
"Or everything would be the same. You don't know how things would be, you're not psychic. I'm worried that you'll do something drastic like April did." Mark held Maureen's hand.

"I'll never do that. I could never do that to you." Maureen let out a breath of relief. Mark sat up and began to kiss her passionately. Soon, they forgot all about their problems; even if it was only for a little while.

The End