Chapter 12: Nightmares
As Jack sat down at the dining table, a distinct aroma permeated the air. He giddily smiled to himself, knowing exactly what the scent was.
"Mark, you shouldn't have!"
He was leaning over the stovetop in the open planned kitchen, with a frying pan in his left hand and a spatula in his right. The early morning light filtered through the glass doors leading outside, giving the room an appealing orange glow.
"But I did!" Mark countered playfully.
He quickly lifted the frypan off the stove and a thick, somewhat circular pancake flew into the air and flipped twice before landing back in the pan.
"Bravo!" Jack cheered.
Mark turned around and bowed clumsily at Jack, before going back to the task at hand. Jack could almost feel his mouth watering at the smell of the pancakes, but he kept his manners intact and waited patiently for him to finish cooking.
"Breakfast is coming right up!"
When a plate stacked with pancakes came into Jack's view, he couldn't help but stare. They looked incredibly appetising, and the smell they gave off was absolutely delicious. Mark set the plate down carefully on the table, and sat down next to Jack for breakfast.
"Did you want butter or maple syrup with your pancakes?" Mark asked in his signature deep voice.
Jack couldn't help but laugh. "Maple s-syrup please!" he responded with a giggle mid-sentence.
Mark passed him the syrup with a fake pout on his lips. "You didn't find that hot?"
As he poured the syrup onto his pancakes, Jack shrugged. "Butter and maple syrup isn't exactly the sexiest thing to talk about in that voice..."
A smirk made its way onto Mark's face as he leant over, getting closer to Jack. "So," he began, his voice more seductive than before, "You're not turned on by this?"
Jack's cheeks blushed a light pink as he tried to find the right words to reply with. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Extremely embarrassed by the situation he was in, Jack's cheeks blazed red as he avoided eye contact with Mark. Unbeknownst to his reaction, Mark chuckled to himself and leant back in his chair; giving Jack his personal space back.
"I'm only messing with ya," he teased.
"Y-Yeah, I f-figured..." Jack stammered, his accent slightly more pronounced than usual.
Mark's attention went back to his pile of pancakes, so Jack decided to do the same. He took a bite out of the top one and nearly hummed in satisfaction. They were just delicious! He was about to take another bite when his stomach abruptly churned. He tried to ignore it, but it only steadily got worse the more he looked at his food.
"Hey Mark?" he said, his voice quieter than usual.
"Yep?"
"I-I don't feel too well..." he confessed, now beginning to get a headache. "Maybe I just need to get more sleep..."
Mark's face turned from joyful to worrisome in a split second. "It wasn't the pancakes, was it?"
Jack grimaced and clutched his stomach, the churning beginning to become violent. "I-I don't think so."
"I'll get you some water," Mark stated as he shot up from his seat. He dashed over to the kitchen cabinets and opened one of the doors. He hastily grabbed the first glass he saw and filled it up with tap water. Careful not to spill the drink, Mark made his way over to Jack, who had his eyes screwed up in pain.
"Here." Mark offered him the drink, and sat back down next to Jack, who had opened his eyes to just a sliver.
"Thanks," he croaked weakly, his lips barely moving when he spoke. Mark began rubbing his back comfortingly; it was helping him, but not nearly enough. He reached out to grab the glass, his hands shaking vigorously, but immediately got the urge to vomit just from moving his arm. He leapt out of the chair and ran to the sink, emptying his stomach's contents in Mark's kitchen. Mark was at his side instantly, but audibly gasped in horror at what lay in the sink. A black, thick substance filled the sink, along with streaks of red which he could only assume was blood. There was not a trace of food anywhere.
"Oh my God... Jack, we need to get you to a fucking hospital!"
Jack was dry-heaving now; panting and sweating and an absolute mess. His fingers clutched onto the rim of the sink like his life depended on it. When he thought he was finished retching, he pressed his back up against the cupboard below the sink and slid down it slowly. Jack then sat down on the tiles, and brought his knees up to his chin while breathing heavily.
"Mark..." he whispered faintly, "It hurts..."
His eyes leaked out black tears due to the immense pain. His desperate wails filled the room and his head pounded relentlessly as his stomach did backflips.
"I know Jack, I know! I'm calling the ambulance right now!" he yelled, terrified of what was happening.
There was no warning this time. No incentives, no threats, not even a single word. Jack became submissive to Anti, just desperately wanting the pain to end. Mark watched on in horror as Jack's blotchy blue eyes faded to darkness, and Anti smiled broadly as he looked up at Mark.
Chuckling darkly, he stood up slowly while keeping eye contact with Mark. A wide grin was plastered on his face as he opened the cutlery drawer behind him; realisation finally dawning on Mark. He slowly pulled out a long, thin knife and twirled it around in his right hand effortlessly. He took a menacing step forward towards Mark, who in turn took two steps back.
"F-Fuck off, Anti!" he stuttered.
He chuckled again under his breath, and took another step towards Mark.
"Such brave words..." Anti taunted.
Mark began taking successive steps backwards in an attempt to get some distance between them. Anti, however, walked slowly towards Mark; there was no place for him to hide. Mark was simply, delaying the inevitable.
When Mark finally came to terms with the fact that the front door was at the other end of the house, his face paled in fear at the situation he was in. Anti stood menacingly between him and his escape, and his attitude guaranteed Mark he wouldn't be able to get past him without a fight.
Running through all his options in his head, Mark realised there were barely any. His back then pressed up against a wall; he was cornered in his own house. Anti smirked at Mark's obvious fear and walked even closer to him.
"J-Jack..." he uttered quietly. "Help me, please."
"Jack can't help you now. He's gone!"
"No, h-he's not. I-I know he's not."
"Yes he fuckin' is!"
"Shut up, Anti! Just, shut up! Jack, listen to me. Y-"
"Jack is GONE!" Anti screeched.
"NO HE'S NOT! Jack, listen to me. You're better than this. You're better than HIM. He doesn't control who you are, or what you do. Overcome him, and fight back Goddammit!"
Jack listened. He understood what he needed to do. He needed to fight for control, to confront a part of himself.
So he did.
Let me out, Anti.
"Oh fuck no," Anti muttered.
Let me have control.
"No! I just got out! I'm not getting cooped up again!"
You're not going to hurt Mark.
Anti paused, and grinned maliciously; an idea coming to him. "I know how to shut you up, Jack..."
He slid his finger along the blade of the knife and gripped the hilt tightly. "I just need to get rid of your motivation."
It took Mark a second to realise he was talking about him. His body began trembling with fear as Anti closed in on him, hopelessness being the prominent emotion he was feeling. His palms turned sweaty with anxiety and his veins bulged out of his skin, clearly in a state of distress.
"Jack, fight back! Please!"
So Jack fought. He struggled and used all of his willpower to regain control, but to no avail. Anti was stronger than him. Anti had always been stronger than him.
"He's fighting a losing battle!" Anti taunted Mark as he clutched his head, fending off his other side.
Jack stopped fighting for a few seconds, just trying to regain his energy for a second round. Little did he know, that was all the time Anti needed to finish the task at hand. He abruptly lunged at Mark and pushed him against the wall, the blade held again his neck tightly. Mark whimpered, but tried to cover it up with a gasp of air.
"Are ya scared of me Markimoo!"
He pressed the blade harshly into his neck, Mark's throat beginning to seep blood.
"Jack, help me, please!"
But Jack couldn't do anything. He was powerless against Anti. No matter how much he fought, or tried to regain control. His struggles went unnoticed by Mark, who was by now screaming and begging for Jack to stop hurting him.
For JACK to stop. Not Anti.
I'm doing this to him.
Anti stopped pressing the knife into Mark's neck, and instead slashed across the front of it violently. A deep wound of a couple of centimetres formed, and Mark collapsed onto the floor, no longer able to support his weight. He gargled loudly as he attempted to draw air into his lungs, but his windpipe had been too severely damaged by the blade. Thin trails of blood covered his neck and disappeared under his shirt, where a patch of red could be seen around the collar area.
Anti smiled devilishly to himself, knowing Jack had witnessed the entire event. To torture Jack that little bit more, he let him have control again to watch Mark die. As soon as Anti left, Jack began crying black, sticky tears and knelt down next to Mark's head; his breathing becoming fainter and fainter. Mark's eyes were still open as Jack swept aside the black hair from his face. In his eyes held many emotions, too many to name. But the main one, the one Jack hated himself for, was fear.
Mark feared him.
And as Mark drew his final breath, all Jack could do was watch.
〰
Jack was sobbing hysterically at this point. How could I do that to him?
Did you enjoy that, Jack?
Shut the fuck up!
I had a blast!
Jack's wails filled the house, his face a mess of black tears and puffy red cheeks. He curled into a ball and cried into his knees, just wanting to shut the world out for a moment. This, he realised, would be impossible, as the person he wanted to see the least at that moment opened the door gently and walked over to Jack. He sat down on the bed and reached over to Jack, who was still pretending he wasn't in the room.
Sighing, he shuffled across the bed to his friend and wrapped his arms around him comfortingly. Jack sniffled loudly and raised his head from his knees to face him, his bright, blue eyes still covered with black blotches.
"I don't deserve to have you, Mark."
Jack shoved his head into Mark's shoulder, and clung onto his shirt as if it was his lifeline. He sobbed relentlessly into the crook of his neck, and in turn Mark rocked them back and forth upon the bed. They eventually released each other from their arms, and Jack had a look of admiration in his eyes as he smiled at Mark.
"Thank you Mark, for everything you've done for me. You make my days just, so much happier."
Grinning from ear to ear, Mark pulled the covers over Jack, who had already laid back down. He turned his head over to face Mark, who was just about to hop up out of the bed.
"Please stay with me?" Jack pleaded.
Smiling pleasantly, Mark slipped under the covers and rested his head upon the fluffy pillow. He and Jack exchanged a few glances at each other, just enjoying the tranquility of the moment. Mark breathed out slowly and placed both of his hands on his chest before closing his eyes, darkness engulfing his vision. He was about to drift off to sleep when Jack spoke to him again.
"Thanks for staying..." he whispered.
Mark's cheeks blushed a light pink and he smiled softly to himself.
"Anytime, Jack. I'm always here for you."
