Here's another chapter for my loyal fans! Lol hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 7: Just Another Day in Paradise
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If a random stranger had walked into the WitSec office just then, they never would have suspected anything was wrong. In fact, they would have been astounded to learn about the events of the previous day. But the truth was, they had happened, and no amount of forced normality would change that.
Mary hadn't said anything to Stan or Eleanor since the remark about Marshall's "fight" with a bottle of whiskey. They knew better than to pry, but that didn't stop them from speculating. They could tell something was seriously wrong with Marshall, they just didn't know what.
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Marshall sat at his desk, staring blankly at the computer screen. It was a slow day in the WitSec office, a rare occurrence that would usually be celebrated with escalated abuse from Mary. Today, though, she was silent. God, Mare, what did I say to you yesterday? he thought, racking his brain. Try as he might, he couldn't remember what might have happened to cause her steely silence. He just hoped it wasn't anything unforgiveable, though judging by her demeanor today, it had been pretty bad.
Mary sat up in her chair, scoping out the room. She looked pointedly at Eleanor, who was doing paperwork and didn't notice the look, but who was clearly listening intently for any information that might clue her in as to what was going on. Mary slouched back again, and pulled out her phone and started texting. No sooner had she put her phone down than Marshall's phone buzzed. Marshall gave her a look of complete disbelief. He was actually rather amused that she had resorted to texting him when he was right there in front of her. He looked at the phone and saw the message. There was just one word on the screen: "Why?"
Marshall looked up at Mary for clarification. Her hand reached into her pocket. She pulled something out just far enough for Marshall to see it. It was small. And shiny. And bloodstained.
He felt a torrent of emotions flooding into him all at once. He was terrified and mortified that she had found out his big secret. He was appalled that she was being so forward about it. And he was furious that she had stolen his razor, that she thought she could keep him from doing this again, from finding comfort and sweet relief. He was starting to truly hate the fact that she thought she could control him.
He texted her back. "NOYB." This was met with a look of confusion from Mary as she tried to sound the word out. Marshall texted again for clarification. "None of your business."
In a moment, he was reading the words on the screen that said "Wtf do u mean by that?"
His response was two simple words. "Elevator. Now." He got up and walked toward the elevator. Mary hesitated for a moment and the followed close behind.
As soon as they were both in the elevator, Marshall pushed the emergency stop button, thus locking them in place so as not to be disturbed. Mary immediately turned to him, now pissed off at his deliberate attempts to push her away. "What the hell do you mean, Marshall, it's 'none of my business'?"
"I mean that this is my problem, Mary," he said, his tone somewhere between furious and pleading. "Not yours. You don't get to barge in and try to fix things just because you don't like seeing them broken." He looked away from her, unwilling to meet her eyes.
"Marshall," she started, but was cut off.
"No, you listen," he said. "I don't know what the hell I might have said to you yesterday. I barely remember anything from yesterday. But you can't fix this. This is mine to fix." He stared at the floor, fighting back the tears.
Mary looked at him intently. It had been a while since she had really, really looked at him. How could she have missed this? How could she have let her best friend sink so low? How could she have failed so miserably? She put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Marshall, look at me." He made no move to comply. "Look at me," she said, her tone somewhat sharper now. He looked up into her eyes, and she could see the tears glistening in his own. She looked deep into his clear blue eyes and said with all the conviction in her being, "Marshall, I love you."
Time stopped. Marshall felt like his heart had stopped with it.
"But,…"
Of course, he thought. There's always a 'but.'
"But I can't do this. I can't leave Raph, and you know we can't have each other and both keep our jobs here. I just can't." She let his gaze drift. "Do you get what I'm saying?" she asked.
Suddenly Marshall's eyes snapped back up to meet hers. The anger in his gaze was almost palpable. "When are you gonna stop jerking me around?" he hissed, his eyes reduced to slits of fiery blue as she backed up against the wall, actually afraid of her partner. "When are you gonna tell me just what the fuck you're playing at?" He was right up in her face, his nose inches from hers as his eyes burned into her with cold, silent fury. "I've always been there, haven't I? I've always stuck around, no matter what happened. Marshall the Punching Bag. Marshall the Whipping Boy. Marshall the fucking sick puppy, following my master around no matter how many times you kick me. I've always been here, waiting for you, and you shut me out. Time after God damn time. Well, that's it. I'm done. To fucking hell with this." Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the emergency stop button. The elevator clamored to life again, bringing them down to the bottom floor. The door hissed open and Marshall left.
"Marshall," Mary tried to call after him, but it was too late. He was gone. When the door closed, she hit the stop button again. She didn't go back upstairs again until she could stop the tears.
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Marshall didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know where he was going or why. He just needed to drive. He needed to feel the power of the car around him, the cool night wind in his face, the gentle roar of the engine as he floored the accelerator along the empty desert road.
He had gone through a lot in the last couple of days. He still couldn't remember exactly what had taken place on the bathroom floor the previous morning, but he knew it wasn't good. He wanted to just put it all out of his mind. The desert air in his face was already making his eyes water, so at first he didn't notice the tears welling up that had nothing to do with the wind. But eventually they obscured his vision so much that he couldn't see to drive, so he pulled over. And there, in the middle of the desert, he broke down and cried.
He fell asleep that night with tearstains on his face, slumped over the steering wheel because he didn't even have the energy to move to the back and lie down.
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She was standing in front of him, wearing a wedding gown, looking absolutely beautiful in white. He couldn't take his eyes off her, as much as he wanted to. She wasn't his now. She had never really belonged to him, but now she was solidly, legally, permanently marked as "not his." He couldn't stand it. He turned and started running, just blindly running from everything. But he couldn't escape. Around every corner, he saw her face, her perfect face, her tortured face, her beautiful fucking face. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Why are you following me?!" he screamed at her. "Leave me alone!"
The face said nothing. She just keep staring at him, watching his every move. It was beyond unnerving. He couldn't take it. He just couldn't. He drew his gun and started firing at her, just to get that face away from him, but she was everywhere, surrounding him, choking him off.
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Marshall awoke to find that the sun was rising over the desert, and he had a pain in his head where he had been using the steering wheel as a pillow. He needed to get home, where he could think properly and try to sort these things out. He moved to start the car, and found that his entire body was stiff and cramped from sleeping in the driver's seat. Great, he thought. Something else to deal with. He started the SUV and headed home.
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Hope you enjoyed this chapter! This one took me a bit longer to write. Hope it was worth it!
