Disclaimer: Not mine. All Jonathan Larson's.
A/N: Okay, if I don't get anymore reviews this story is over! *Sniffles* Seriously, I don't know if I'm doing a bad job or even a good job with this thing. I have no feedback and it's beginning to make me feel like a sailor without a map on her first voyage. *Wipes away tears* So... more reviews please!
Chapter 6- Reactions
For a moment they both stood in silence. Roger turned around to stare at the bloody towel and Mark said nothing.
Mark took a step towards Roger.
He cleared his throat and Roger raised his head.
"Hey." Mark said quietly. "I want you to know that whatever happens now, I'll..."
Roger turned around to face him and Mark took a step back in shock.
Roger's face had twisted up into an expression of pure hatred. Before Mark could even take another step back, Roger's fist collided into his face.
Mark fell to the floor on his back. His glasses clattered down the floor next to him but he didn't reach out for them. He couldn't. The pain in his mouth was excruciating. He reached up and touched his lips gingerly, wincing when his fingers came into contact with open flesh. He stared at his hand, covered with blood- his blood, with unbelieving eyes.
Oh God, Mark thought wildly.
Oh God, what is Roger going to do to me?
Oh God oh God oh God...
He jerked back and tried to move away, tried to get to his feet but Roger was faster than him. Roger bent down and grabbed Mark's collar with both hands, pulling the smaller man up to his feet.
"What did I tell you, Mark?" Roger said, in a strangely calm voice. His blue eyes were bloodshot and Mark could see the drug-induced insanity in their depths. Why hadn't he noticed it before?
Oh God, I should have known, Mark's mind raced. I should have known it was too easy...
"What did I say, Mark? My fucking bestfriend? What did I tell you?"
Mark could only whimper.
He tried to push himself away from Roger but his hands were like steel against his neck.
Suddenly, Mark felt himself being thrown back.
It felt like an explosion had gone off behind his eyes when the back of his head slammed against the wall.
For a moment, Mark thought that he was going to pass out.
The pain was so intense that he could barely breathe. He slid down to the floor and coughed, spitting out more blood. He struggled to get up but his legs wouldn't move. Roger walked towards him and Mark's eyes widened at the thought of what Roger would do next.
"Roger, please." he said weakly, trying to force air into his lungs. "Please, don't."
"I told you!" Roger screamed at him. "I told you to stay out of my fucking life! That's what I said Mark! I told you to fuck off!!"
Roger bent down and grabbed Mark's already torn collar. Mark tried to pry Roger's fingers off but the move only seemed to make Roger angrier. He tightened his grip on Mark's shirt, forcing the fabric to constrict against the soft flesh of his neck. Mark gagged and tried to twist away but the fabric grew tighter and tighter and suddenly Mark felt light headed.
He couldn't breathe.
The room seemed to grow darker and Mark closed his eyes. He was dimly aware that he was still struggling but his body felt miles away from his mind.
He's going to kill me, he thought.
I'm going to die right here.
Like this.
From a distance, he heard his name being called and then a scream. His mind struggled with the recognition of that voice, grasped at the faint memory of that sound.
No!
April, no, go away!
Leave before he...
Before Roger...
And suddenly Mark was free. He felt himself falling through air... He didn't even feel it when he hit the floor. For a moment, he lay there, on the hard cold floor, crumpled and broken. Through the pain, he rolled himself onto his back and forced his eyes open.
April.
The sight of her made Mark move with a start. He forced himself up with his arms and sat against the wall, ready to hurl himself at Roger if he made one move towards April.
"Roger." Her voice dripped with a mixture of fury and sorrow. "I can't believe... What have you done?!"
Roger's chest heaved with each deep and heavy breath and his hair was growing damp with sweat. The front of his shirt was stained with blood.
My blood, Mark thought wearily. That's my blood on him.
He looked at Mark, confused, and then turned back to April.
"I... I..." Roger began and Mark almost laughed at how small and scared he sounded.
As if he's the one who should be afraid, Mark thought bitterly.
"How could you?" April said, looking at Roger intently. "How could you do this to him? He was only trying to help you. He loves..."
Roger's hands flew up to his ears and he covered them like an angry child.
"It's always about Mark!" he screamed. "You always take Mark's side!"
April shook her head in disgust and walked over to Mark. She kneeled down in front of him and Mark stared at Roger over her shoulder. He had lowered his arms and was staring at April with tears in his eyes.
"April, I'm sorry." Roger said. "I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me."
April grabbed a sweater from the couch, a thin white one that Mark vaguely remembered seeing her wear, and as she did, Mark noticed that her hands were shaking badly. Her left hand was covered with a thin strip of medical cloth.
"April, just go." he whispered. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his jaw ached but he ignored it. "Get out of here before he snaps again. I can deal with him.."
She shook her head and pressed her sweater up to his bottom lip.
"No you can't." she said quietly.
She picked up his fallen glasses and placed them on his face so carefully that her hands didn't touch his face.
She moved to his side and slid her arm around his waist, helping him up to his feet.
"Can you make it to the door, Mark?" she asked. "I'll help you."
Mark nodded, suddenly feeling cold and numb. He put one arm around her shoulders for support as she gently lead him towards the door.
"Don't go." Roger begged her.
He fell to his knees and sobbed hysterically as she and Mark walked past him. He tried to grab her legs but she moved away quickly, accidentally pushing Mark to the side.
"April! Mark! Please! I'm sorry! Don't leave me!"
April paused at the door and turned her head to look back at him like Lot's wife.
"I'll come back, Roger." she said.
Roger stared at her, uncomprehendingly and when she pulled Mark outside and closed the door behind them, Mark heard a howl of rage and defeat echo through the building. Harsh, ragged sobs and screams filled the air and Mark stared at April as she helped him down the stairs.
"You can't go back there, April." Mark said. His head pounded and mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. "Not by yourself."
"Mark, quiet." she snapped.
She pushed the door to the street open with one hand and pulled him out.
The sharp rush of the cold air on his face was soothing and he moaned with relief. They walked a few more blocks down the street before April finally stopped walking. She slid her arm away from his waist and propped him up against the wall of a building.
She stared into his face, examining his wounds with her eyes.
"Are any of your teeth loose?" she asked, after awhile.
"No." He pulled her sweater away from his mouth and it made a sickeningly wet sound. "But I think your sweater is pretty much ruined."
April ignored him and continued to study his face. Mark didn't know why she didn't touch him and her stare was beginning to unnerve him.
"Did he cut himself before he touched you?" she asked suddenly.
Mark stared at her. "What?" he asked.
"Did Roger cut himself when he hit you?" She repeated the question slowly and loudly as if he were hard of hearing.
"N-No.." Mark said, not understanding the question. "I don't think so. Why? What difference does it make?"
"I think you need to go to the hospital, Mark." she said, ignoring the question. "I think the back of your head.. is still bleeding."
"No." Mark said. "I don't want to. I just need an ice pack and some rest, I.."
"Goddammit, Mark! You're going to the fucking hospital!" she cried out hysterically.
Mark looked at her, bewildered at her reaction.
His eyes caught the white bandage on her hand and saw that a spot of blood had appeared on the surface of it.
He reached out for her hand, wincing at the sight of his own bloody fingers.
"April, your hand. I think it's still bleeding..."
Her eyes filled with horror and she stepped back away from him.
"No!" she screamed. "Don't touch me, Mark! Don't you dare touch me!"
That hurt more than the physical pain and Mark felt his eyes fill with tears.
"Okay." he said weakly and turned his face away.
April shook her head and groaned. She moved closer to him and touched his chest lightly with the fingers of her other hand.
"Mark, I didn't mean it like that." she said softly. "Mark? Look at me, please? Mark."
"Okay." he muttered.
She took her sweater from his hands, walked to the edge of the street and used it to flag down a taxi.
They were at the emergency room within minutes.
Two A.M.
The doctor tilted Mark's head forward gently, pushed Mark's hair out of the way and frowned.
"I think we need to get your brother x-rayed." he said, looking over at April. "He may have a slight concussion but I'm not sure. And his lower lip certainly needs stitches."
April nodded and smiled slightly. She uncrossed her arms and walked across the room to the bed where Mark sat.
"My brother gets into these insane bar fights all the time." she said with a wide smile and the doctor shook his head, smiling back.
"I guess boys will be boys." he said. "I'll go check if there are any rooms available. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes or so."
He glanced at Mark.
"Don't move your head around too much, young man." he said sternly. He walked towards the door and closed it behind him.
"Your brother?" Mark said, raising his head. "Bar fights?"
She shrugged and sat on the stool in front of him.
"Just remember- your name is Adam Dylan." she said. "You were born on January 26, 1972 and your social..."
"Why?" he asked suddenly. "Why do all this, April?"
"Insurance, Mark." she said seriously. "You think they'd help you if...."
"No, I meant... why stay with us? With Roger?" he asked. He shook his head slowly. "Why go through all of this?"
April lowered her eyes and twirled her hair nervously.
They sat in silence for a moment.
"April?"
She raised her eyes and Mark saw that they had filled with tears.
"He's my first." she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She hugged herself and shivered.
"Your... first?" Mark repeated, confused.
She looked up at him meaningfully and nodded.
"My first... everything."
And then he inhaled a cold breath as he realized what she meant.
"Oh."
"And...I know... he's not the same person I fell in love with." she said in a broken, hollow voice. "But, you know what? That doesn't matter. Not to me. When you love someone... you just love them. No matter what. And I know... I know that even though that person looked like Roger tonight, it wasn't him. Roger wouldn't hurt you. He would never, ever hurt you, Mark. The person who did this to you... that was someone else. That was some sort of... demon up there. Not Roger."
"It was the drugs." Mark said.
"You don't think that drug is a demon?" she asked fiercely. She lowered her head again and shook it. "I can't believe I was so stupid. So fucking naive! I actually believed that he... that Roger was going to be okay. In one stupid night, I actually believed..."
"I did too, April." Mark said softly. "I wanted to believe it too."
April shook her head and brushed away the few strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes.
She stood up and shook out her sweater. It was badly stained with dried blood and Mark winced, knowing that all of it had come from him.
She looked at him and then stuck her hand in her back pocket, pulling out a $20 bill. She put it on the bed and Mark stared at it.
"Here. Just in case they release you before I get back."
"Where are you going?" he asked, feeling a wave of panic and nausea rush through his chest when she moved towards the door.
"They'll take care of you, Mark." she said quietly. "I'll come back later. See how you're doing. If they send you home before I get back, go to Collins' apartment, okay?"
"April, you can't go back there." he cried out. Even though it sent a shock of pain throughout his body, he jumped to his feet and reached for her.
"April, no!"
She drew back, away from him, as if afraid to make contact with him. He took a step back when he saw the fear in her face as she stared at him.
"April?" he said her name in a small, broken voice. He could barely bring himself to say the words. "Why...?"
"I.. I have to go, Mark."
"I won't hurt you." he said, aware of how pitiful he sounded. He didn't care. "April, I promise."
She shook her head and looked at him with pity.
"Mark, I know you wouldn't hurt me." she said softly. "It's the other way around."
"April, you can't hurt me..."
She opened her mouth to answer him when the doctor walked in.
"Well, it looks like we have a room upstairs." he said. April smiled at him and moved out the door.
"I'm going to make a few phone calls." she said to the doctor. Her eyes flew to Mark's face and begged him to understand.
"I'll see you later?"
Mark leaned back on the bed and sighed, looking away.
"Ma... Adam?"
"Okay."
Collins handed him an ice pack and Mark pressed it against the back of his head.
He leaned forward from his seat on the couch and stared blankly at the flickering images on the television screen.
"I never would have believed Roger would do this." Collins said, shaking his head.
He sat down in a chair across from Mark and Mark slowly turned his eyes up to where Collins sat.
"Well, he did it." he said dully.
The hospital had released him early that morning, after two sets of x-rays and half an hour of stitches. They kept him for a few more hours to make sure he woudn't pass out or worse. When they had finally let him go, he had waited for April in front of the building, on the street, until he felt so faint that he could no longer bear it. He called a cab from the hospital lobby and used the $20 to pay for a silent ride across town to Collin's apartment.
He remembered the look on Collins's face when he answered the door.
Mark knew how badly he looked.
He had gone to the bathroom at the hospital and looked in the mirror for a long time, feeling cold and strangely ashamed at what he saw. His lip was swollen and marred by the small black stitches that the doctor had placed there. His upper left cheek was blue and black and sore beneath his unbelieving fingertips. His neck was covered with a necklace of bruises.
I'm not me, he thought. That isn't me in the mirror.
It can't be.
The numbing blanket of shock had settled over him at that moment and he wrapped it around him for protection.
Mark turned his eyes back towards the television and sat still. He dimly heard Collins talking to him, telling him that he could stay as long as he wanted, that he was safe here, asking him if he was hungry...
From a distance, he heard the phone ring and saw Collins stand up to answer it from the corner of his eye.
"Mark."
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked back, startled.
"Mark, it's April." Collins said, holding the phone out to him.
At the sound of her name, Mark shook off the haze from his mind and grabbed the phone eagerly.
"April?!" Mark half cried, half yelled into the phone. He ignored the pain from his mouth and head and throat. "Where are you?"
"Mark, relax." Her voice sounded calm and Mark did relax- a little. He loosened his grip on the the phone and closed his eyes.
"How are you?" she asked quietly. "Mark? How're you feeling? When did they release you?"
"I'm alive." he said slowly, saying each word with care. "I got out around nine."
"That's good. Then you're basically okay?"
"No." He squeezed his eyes, trying to push back the tears that had suddenly come. "April, come here. Please?"
He heard a sigh and then a brief moment of silence.
"Mark, I can't." she said finally. "I have to look for Roger. When I got back to the loft... he was gone. I've been looking for him all morning but..."
He heard another heavy sigh.
"I came back to the loft to see if he had come back while I was out. He's still not here, Mark. I have to find him."
"We'll find him." Mark said, opening his eyes. He sat up. "I'll be over there in a few..."
"Mark, don't you dare leave Collins' apartment!" April cried out.
"I can't let you look for him by yourself." He tried to sound forceful and strong but it was a pitiful sounding attempt.
"Mark, get some rest." she said firmly. "Get some sleep. Stay at Collins's place for awhile, okay? It isn't safe for you to come back here. Not after... what he did."
"It's not safe for you either, April!" Mark cried. His jaw began to pound viciously. "Just give me an hour. I'll be fine, okay? Just one.."
"Mark, you are not going anywhere." she said. "You are in no position to.."
"But April.... I need you."
Silence.
"I...I mean, I...I.." Mark closed his eyes, wishing that he could take back the words. "I.. need to..."
Silence.
Hello?" Mark said fearfully.
"What time is it right now, Mark?"
He glanced up at the kitchen wall clock.
"Around twelve thirty." he said.
"Two hours." she said finally. "I'll be there in two hours to drop off some of your things. I'll be there at two. Don't go anywhere."
Before Mark could reply, he heard the dialtone ringing in his ear.
"Shit." he muttered and pressed the hang up button on the phone.
He looked up to find Collins looking at him with a curious, thoughtful look on his face.
A/N: Okay, if I don't get anymore reviews this story is over! *Sniffles* Seriously, I don't know if I'm doing a bad job or even a good job with this thing. I have no feedback and it's beginning to make me feel like a sailor without a map on her first voyage. *Wipes away tears* So... more reviews please!
Chapter 6- Reactions
For a moment they both stood in silence. Roger turned around to stare at the bloody towel and Mark said nothing.
Mark took a step towards Roger.
He cleared his throat and Roger raised his head.
"Hey." Mark said quietly. "I want you to know that whatever happens now, I'll..."
Roger turned around to face him and Mark took a step back in shock.
Roger's face had twisted up into an expression of pure hatred. Before Mark could even take another step back, Roger's fist collided into his face.
Mark fell to the floor on his back. His glasses clattered down the floor next to him but he didn't reach out for them. He couldn't. The pain in his mouth was excruciating. He reached up and touched his lips gingerly, wincing when his fingers came into contact with open flesh. He stared at his hand, covered with blood- his blood, with unbelieving eyes.
Oh God, Mark thought wildly.
Oh God, what is Roger going to do to me?
Oh God oh God oh God...
He jerked back and tried to move away, tried to get to his feet but Roger was faster than him. Roger bent down and grabbed Mark's collar with both hands, pulling the smaller man up to his feet.
"What did I tell you, Mark?" Roger said, in a strangely calm voice. His blue eyes were bloodshot and Mark could see the drug-induced insanity in their depths. Why hadn't he noticed it before?
Oh God, I should have known, Mark's mind raced. I should have known it was too easy...
"What did I say, Mark? My fucking bestfriend? What did I tell you?"
Mark could only whimper.
He tried to push himself away from Roger but his hands were like steel against his neck.
Suddenly, Mark felt himself being thrown back.
It felt like an explosion had gone off behind his eyes when the back of his head slammed against the wall.
For a moment, Mark thought that he was going to pass out.
The pain was so intense that he could barely breathe. He slid down to the floor and coughed, spitting out more blood. He struggled to get up but his legs wouldn't move. Roger walked towards him and Mark's eyes widened at the thought of what Roger would do next.
"Roger, please." he said weakly, trying to force air into his lungs. "Please, don't."
"I told you!" Roger screamed at him. "I told you to stay out of my fucking life! That's what I said Mark! I told you to fuck off!!"
Roger bent down and grabbed Mark's already torn collar. Mark tried to pry Roger's fingers off but the move only seemed to make Roger angrier. He tightened his grip on Mark's shirt, forcing the fabric to constrict against the soft flesh of his neck. Mark gagged and tried to twist away but the fabric grew tighter and tighter and suddenly Mark felt light headed.
He couldn't breathe.
The room seemed to grow darker and Mark closed his eyes. He was dimly aware that he was still struggling but his body felt miles away from his mind.
He's going to kill me, he thought.
I'm going to die right here.
Like this.
From a distance, he heard his name being called and then a scream. His mind struggled with the recognition of that voice, grasped at the faint memory of that sound.
No!
April, no, go away!
Leave before he...
Before Roger...
And suddenly Mark was free. He felt himself falling through air... He didn't even feel it when he hit the floor. For a moment, he lay there, on the hard cold floor, crumpled and broken. Through the pain, he rolled himself onto his back and forced his eyes open.
April.
The sight of her made Mark move with a start. He forced himself up with his arms and sat against the wall, ready to hurl himself at Roger if he made one move towards April.
"Roger." Her voice dripped with a mixture of fury and sorrow. "I can't believe... What have you done?!"
Roger's chest heaved with each deep and heavy breath and his hair was growing damp with sweat. The front of his shirt was stained with blood.
My blood, Mark thought wearily. That's my blood on him.
He looked at Mark, confused, and then turned back to April.
"I... I..." Roger began and Mark almost laughed at how small and scared he sounded.
As if he's the one who should be afraid, Mark thought bitterly.
"How could you?" April said, looking at Roger intently. "How could you do this to him? He was only trying to help you. He loves..."
Roger's hands flew up to his ears and he covered them like an angry child.
"It's always about Mark!" he screamed. "You always take Mark's side!"
April shook her head in disgust and walked over to Mark. She kneeled down in front of him and Mark stared at Roger over her shoulder. He had lowered his arms and was staring at April with tears in his eyes.
"April, I'm sorry." Roger said. "I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me."
April grabbed a sweater from the couch, a thin white one that Mark vaguely remembered seeing her wear, and as she did, Mark noticed that her hands were shaking badly. Her left hand was covered with a thin strip of medical cloth.
"April, just go." he whispered. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his jaw ached but he ignored it. "Get out of here before he snaps again. I can deal with him.."
She shook her head and pressed her sweater up to his bottom lip.
"No you can't." she said quietly.
She picked up his fallen glasses and placed them on his face so carefully that her hands didn't touch his face.
She moved to his side and slid her arm around his waist, helping him up to his feet.
"Can you make it to the door, Mark?" she asked. "I'll help you."
Mark nodded, suddenly feeling cold and numb. He put one arm around her shoulders for support as she gently lead him towards the door.
"Don't go." Roger begged her.
He fell to his knees and sobbed hysterically as she and Mark walked past him. He tried to grab her legs but she moved away quickly, accidentally pushing Mark to the side.
"April! Mark! Please! I'm sorry! Don't leave me!"
April paused at the door and turned her head to look back at him like Lot's wife.
"I'll come back, Roger." she said.
Roger stared at her, uncomprehendingly and when she pulled Mark outside and closed the door behind them, Mark heard a howl of rage and defeat echo through the building. Harsh, ragged sobs and screams filled the air and Mark stared at April as she helped him down the stairs.
"You can't go back there, April." Mark said. His head pounded and mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. "Not by yourself."
"Mark, quiet." she snapped.
She pushed the door to the street open with one hand and pulled him out.
The sharp rush of the cold air on his face was soothing and he moaned with relief. They walked a few more blocks down the street before April finally stopped walking. She slid her arm away from his waist and propped him up against the wall of a building.
She stared into his face, examining his wounds with her eyes.
"Are any of your teeth loose?" she asked, after awhile.
"No." He pulled her sweater away from his mouth and it made a sickeningly wet sound. "But I think your sweater is pretty much ruined."
April ignored him and continued to study his face. Mark didn't know why she didn't touch him and her stare was beginning to unnerve him.
"Did he cut himself before he touched you?" she asked suddenly.
Mark stared at her. "What?" he asked.
"Did Roger cut himself when he hit you?" She repeated the question slowly and loudly as if he were hard of hearing.
"N-No.." Mark said, not understanding the question. "I don't think so. Why? What difference does it make?"
"I think you need to go to the hospital, Mark." she said, ignoring the question. "I think the back of your head.. is still bleeding."
"No." Mark said. "I don't want to. I just need an ice pack and some rest, I.."
"Goddammit, Mark! You're going to the fucking hospital!" she cried out hysterically.
Mark looked at her, bewildered at her reaction.
His eyes caught the white bandage on her hand and saw that a spot of blood had appeared on the surface of it.
He reached out for her hand, wincing at the sight of his own bloody fingers.
"April, your hand. I think it's still bleeding..."
Her eyes filled with horror and she stepped back away from him.
"No!" she screamed. "Don't touch me, Mark! Don't you dare touch me!"
That hurt more than the physical pain and Mark felt his eyes fill with tears.
"Okay." he said weakly and turned his face away.
April shook her head and groaned. She moved closer to him and touched his chest lightly with the fingers of her other hand.
"Mark, I didn't mean it like that." she said softly. "Mark? Look at me, please? Mark."
"Okay." he muttered.
She took her sweater from his hands, walked to the edge of the street and used it to flag down a taxi.
They were at the emergency room within minutes.
Two A.M.
The doctor tilted Mark's head forward gently, pushed Mark's hair out of the way and frowned.
"I think we need to get your brother x-rayed." he said, looking over at April. "He may have a slight concussion but I'm not sure. And his lower lip certainly needs stitches."
April nodded and smiled slightly. She uncrossed her arms and walked across the room to the bed where Mark sat.
"My brother gets into these insane bar fights all the time." she said with a wide smile and the doctor shook his head, smiling back.
"I guess boys will be boys." he said. "I'll go check if there are any rooms available. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes or so."
He glanced at Mark.
"Don't move your head around too much, young man." he said sternly. He walked towards the door and closed it behind him.
"Your brother?" Mark said, raising his head. "Bar fights?"
She shrugged and sat on the stool in front of him.
"Just remember- your name is Adam Dylan." she said. "You were born on January 26, 1972 and your social..."
"Why?" he asked suddenly. "Why do all this, April?"
"Insurance, Mark." she said seriously. "You think they'd help you if...."
"No, I meant... why stay with us? With Roger?" he asked. He shook his head slowly. "Why go through all of this?"
April lowered her eyes and twirled her hair nervously.
They sat in silence for a moment.
"April?"
She raised her eyes and Mark saw that they had filled with tears.
"He's my first." she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She hugged herself and shivered.
"Your... first?" Mark repeated, confused.
She looked up at him meaningfully and nodded.
"My first... everything."
And then he inhaled a cold breath as he realized what she meant.
"Oh."
"And...I know... he's not the same person I fell in love with." she said in a broken, hollow voice. "But, you know what? That doesn't matter. Not to me. When you love someone... you just love them. No matter what. And I know... I know that even though that person looked like Roger tonight, it wasn't him. Roger wouldn't hurt you. He would never, ever hurt you, Mark. The person who did this to you... that was someone else. That was some sort of... demon up there. Not Roger."
"It was the drugs." Mark said.
"You don't think that drug is a demon?" she asked fiercely. She lowered her head again and shook it. "I can't believe I was so stupid. So fucking naive! I actually believed that he... that Roger was going to be okay. In one stupid night, I actually believed..."
"I did too, April." Mark said softly. "I wanted to believe it too."
April shook her head and brushed away the few strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes.
She stood up and shook out her sweater. It was badly stained with dried blood and Mark winced, knowing that all of it had come from him.
She looked at him and then stuck her hand in her back pocket, pulling out a $20 bill. She put it on the bed and Mark stared at it.
"Here. Just in case they release you before I get back."
"Where are you going?" he asked, feeling a wave of panic and nausea rush through his chest when she moved towards the door.
"They'll take care of you, Mark." she said quietly. "I'll come back later. See how you're doing. If they send you home before I get back, go to Collins' apartment, okay?"
"April, you can't go back there." he cried out. Even though it sent a shock of pain throughout his body, he jumped to his feet and reached for her.
"April, no!"
She drew back, away from him, as if afraid to make contact with him. He took a step back when he saw the fear in her face as she stared at him.
"April?" he said her name in a small, broken voice. He could barely bring himself to say the words. "Why...?"
"I.. I have to go, Mark."
"I won't hurt you." he said, aware of how pitiful he sounded. He didn't care. "April, I promise."
She shook her head and looked at him with pity.
"Mark, I know you wouldn't hurt me." she said softly. "It's the other way around."
"April, you can't hurt me..."
She opened her mouth to answer him when the doctor walked in.
"Well, it looks like we have a room upstairs." he said. April smiled at him and moved out the door.
"I'm going to make a few phone calls." she said to the doctor. Her eyes flew to Mark's face and begged him to understand.
"I'll see you later?"
Mark leaned back on the bed and sighed, looking away.
"Ma... Adam?"
"Okay."
Collins handed him an ice pack and Mark pressed it against the back of his head.
He leaned forward from his seat on the couch and stared blankly at the flickering images on the television screen.
"I never would have believed Roger would do this." Collins said, shaking his head.
He sat down in a chair across from Mark and Mark slowly turned his eyes up to where Collins sat.
"Well, he did it." he said dully.
The hospital had released him early that morning, after two sets of x-rays and half an hour of stitches. They kept him for a few more hours to make sure he woudn't pass out or worse. When they had finally let him go, he had waited for April in front of the building, on the street, until he felt so faint that he could no longer bear it. He called a cab from the hospital lobby and used the $20 to pay for a silent ride across town to Collin's apartment.
He remembered the look on Collins's face when he answered the door.
Mark knew how badly he looked.
He had gone to the bathroom at the hospital and looked in the mirror for a long time, feeling cold and strangely ashamed at what he saw. His lip was swollen and marred by the small black stitches that the doctor had placed there. His upper left cheek was blue and black and sore beneath his unbelieving fingertips. His neck was covered with a necklace of bruises.
I'm not me, he thought. That isn't me in the mirror.
It can't be.
The numbing blanket of shock had settled over him at that moment and he wrapped it around him for protection.
Mark turned his eyes back towards the television and sat still. He dimly heard Collins talking to him, telling him that he could stay as long as he wanted, that he was safe here, asking him if he was hungry...
From a distance, he heard the phone ring and saw Collins stand up to answer it from the corner of his eye.
"Mark."
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked back, startled.
"Mark, it's April." Collins said, holding the phone out to him.
At the sound of her name, Mark shook off the haze from his mind and grabbed the phone eagerly.
"April?!" Mark half cried, half yelled into the phone. He ignored the pain from his mouth and head and throat. "Where are you?"
"Mark, relax." Her voice sounded calm and Mark did relax- a little. He loosened his grip on the the phone and closed his eyes.
"How are you?" she asked quietly. "Mark? How're you feeling? When did they release you?"
"I'm alive." he said slowly, saying each word with care. "I got out around nine."
"That's good. Then you're basically okay?"
"No." He squeezed his eyes, trying to push back the tears that had suddenly come. "April, come here. Please?"
He heard a sigh and then a brief moment of silence.
"Mark, I can't." she said finally. "I have to look for Roger. When I got back to the loft... he was gone. I've been looking for him all morning but..."
He heard another heavy sigh.
"I came back to the loft to see if he had come back while I was out. He's still not here, Mark. I have to find him."
"We'll find him." Mark said, opening his eyes. He sat up. "I'll be over there in a few..."
"Mark, don't you dare leave Collins' apartment!" April cried out.
"I can't let you look for him by yourself." He tried to sound forceful and strong but it was a pitiful sounding attempt.
"Mark, get some rest." she said firmly. "Get some sleep. Stay at Collins's place for awhile, okay? It isn't safe for you to come back here. Not after... what he did."
"It's not safe for you either, April!" Mark cried. His jaw began to pound viciously. "Just give me an hour. I'll be fine, okay? Just one.."
"Mark, you are not going anywhere." she said. "You are in no position to.."
"But April.... I need you."
Silence.
"I...I mean, I...I.." Mark closed his eyes, wishing that he could take back the words. "I.. need to..."
Silence.
Hello?" Mark said fearfully.
"What time is it right now, Mark?"
He glanced up at the kitchen wall clock.
"Around twelve thirty." he said.
"Two hours." she said finally. "I'll be there in two hours to drop off some of your things. I'll be there at two. Don't go anywhere."
Before Mark could reply, he heard the dialtone ringing in his ear.
"Shit." he muttered and pressed the hang up button on the phone.
He looked up to find Collins looking at him with a curious, thoughtful look on his face.