She was dreaming - Maggie knew she was dreaming; only a reverie
could hold such deadly accuracy to such a night of dread. Yet, this
dream was a recollection of the dark hours that should not have been.
The foreboding atmosphere in the sky struck her heart, but it had begun
as an ordinary one - she, or no one could have ever know how that day would end.
Maggie sat in the back of Jimmy Pockets' car, waiting for Marco,
who reveled in making people wait for him as long as possible. Why she
had to accompany Marco and Jimmy, which Marco suddenly jumped up and
announced that they were going - but why she had to go, was well beyond
her. A droning tune, that bored Maggie to tear, played stridently.
She dropped her head into her hands, sighing heavily.
"Turn it off - please - I'm dying over here,"
Jimmy acknowledged her existence, through tremours of highness -
he heard her. Any other day he would be too drunk or stoned to even know
what a car was, now he felt in control - powerful. He snaked his hand to
the knob on the radio, turning it even louder. It took a moment for her
to realize what he had just done. His hand moving had given her the
inclination that he would follow her polite instruction.
Maggie groaned, but he audibleness was lost over the new song coming
on. She wanted to slap him in the back of his head. It would be so easy,
she thought; just smack him one time - that's all it would take. He's so
screwed in the head; I could knock him out with a feather. She scoffed,
just as Marco leaned on the car and slapped Jimmy. Flesh hitting flesh
sounded fresh to her ears - a slight revelry occurred.
"Don't be a fuckin' prick - do what she said," Marco commanded.
Jimmy held the area where Marco had hit him - there was pain,
a tiny bit, but then again he really did not care. Marco climbed in
the backseat with Maggie, holding his left pocket of his shirt. She
gazed at his hand, even when he sat down beside; he rested it there
continually. Maggie caught his eye, held it - he reached inside his
pocket. Jimmy started the car once more, idly rubbing the tendre
flesh that would be bruised by tomorrow.
It was obvious she was curious, this Marco knew, but he was not
going to give it to her at this moment - not with Jimmy in the car. The
object was simple in its own self, he thought briefly that it could be
considred a gift reflecting his "affection" toward her. He, even had
to scoff at that, which Maggie glanced at him quickly - strange how he
actually made a noise. Usually, he was silent - silent and calculating.
How she loathed that he would become as blankets of snow are. Maggie
would much prefer him criticizing her, as he often did - cursing at her
in a rage, than the silence.
The clouds blotted out the moone - thundre rolled in the
midst of silvre bolts bursting through the sky. Maggie Maloney
sat in the mastre bedroom of Jimmy Pockets' apartment. She leaned
closer to the window, the frigid glass bringing her a sense of relief
and tranquility. Now she was beginning to become tired - exhaustion
crept upon her as a tiger would its prey. She felt her head fall
forward and hit the glass - she awoke fully at the sound of the door
opening. From the mirror, she saw the reflection of Marco.
Turning around, she gazed as he stalked in. His expression was blank -
most of the times either blank or angry - occasionally a smirk graced his countenance.
Maggie felt as if all of her breath was being sucked out of her lungs: he knelt before
her on both knees. Nevre in all her life had she seen Marco Vendetti bow to anyone -
nevre. His hands played almost hesitantly upon her lap - she could feel his
warmth through her clothing.
She could not look him in the eyes, not now anyway. Intensity reigned
completely with a marble commandment in his orbs. There was something she could
not quite place - he was. . . anxious? Maggie shook her head, timidly - a look
split second of confusement on Marco's behalf. He trailed his right hand from
her lap to her face - he stroked her cheek, then dancing his fingres through her
hair. Maggie smiled contentedly, only it lasted for mere seconds.
Marco, in one swift movement, snuck his hand to the back of her
head and grabbed a handful of hair. It did not hurt - not exceeding anyhow
- but it pricked her heart to know that this was how much he respected her.
Insanity pressed upon his very mind - actions - it spilled onto Maggie in
endless waves. He ran his tongue over her lips slowly, bottom to top -
it was as a strange action of affection - but none-the-less it was his
own way of bestowing adorrance. His face so entirely close, she could
smell the cigarettes and beer - his breath warm - comforting in some
deranged way to her.
"You love me, don't you?" he asked, as if asking if she had betrayed him somehow.
Maggie thought to hesitate purposely - she could nevre tell him
straight out that she loved him. She knew he did not love her: she was
the only one who would stay, and be completely faithful to - as well as
nevre "knark" on him. He loosened his grip on her hair, smoothed it over
with his now gentle touch.
"Yes,"
She closed her eyes as not to see his expression, yet she could feel
the grin of satisfaction on his face. A glow radiate off of him and jumped
into her body. All Maggie could think is that, he would mock her in a few
moments. She waited - anticipated - it did not come - nor would it ever.
There was something else though, something caused her great distress.
"I want to hear you say it,"
"What?" the only word that would flow from her lips.
She spoke in a whisper, not just because she did not want Jimmy to
hear, but her heart and soul was timid. A flash of rage passed in his eyes
- she could see it. He wanted her to obey immediately - he wanted to be the
mastre and her the slave. This she did not have a problem with: a mastre and
slave relationship is simple - one tells the other what to do, when to do it,
and how to do it; but when the mastre asks the slave to tell them terms of
endearment - it upsets the balance.
"I love you,"
"And, you'd do anything for me, right?"
"Anything, Marco, anything,"
Maggie felt Marco run his fingers over her eyelids - she opened
them when her fingertips had passed. A brief smile invited her to be
open - defenseless. She gave him a soft, coy look - that was another
reason he kept her around - her meekness. That is how he preferred her
being - a mind she had, that he knew since they had grown up together -
but he was content when she did not express her every thought and belief
as most people do.
"You have to make a deal for me,"
She almost said 'what' again - not quite. A deal - a deal -
Maggie knew what that meant. Once she had asked him if he did all the
things she had heard - his rebuttal was to ask her who she had been
talking to? She attempted to tip-toe around who had actually confronted
her about what he had done and did, but he knew all along that it was Leon.
They had all been friends once - when they were youngre, so much youngre.
They had gone through all of school together - they could not be seperated.
But, at one point, Leon and Marco disagreed about how money should
be earned. It was no huge secret that Leon and his gang dove into a few
things that were illegal, but still, it was nothing big. When Marco wanted
to sell, though, that is when Leon broke off any connections with him - they
were hence forth enemies.
Maggie was in the middle, though, she always was. They were the
guys - the men - she was just a girl, and to them, that is all she would
ever be. Some things, they would include her in, but there was just some
of those things that they could not bring her into. At first, she was their
sistre - they protected her from the "big badness" in the world. Latre, when
they were in high school, she expressed her love for Leon. Needless to say,
he was completely and utterly shocked. He loved her - but if she had "only
tolde me soonre." Leon's heart belonged to Betsy - she was who he loved.
And, what could Maggie do - broken-hearted - maimed and being tortured
with the first hearache she had ever been subject to. There was Marco, standing
in the shadows of the night - waiting to console her. She could not believe that
he had cared so much as to wait for her outside her apartment - to see if she
needed anything. It was simple, really: Marco give her something that Leon
would not. She loved him, as well, though maybe not as depthful, but Marco
had demon's countenance - feathered fingres.
"Why can't Jimmy do it?"
"We can't do it," he answered - she should have known the answer.
"But - but, why?" Maggie pressed.
Marco inclined his head - he dis-like this inquiry. And, also a
little amused - she sounded interested, not in doing what he was asking,
but interested in why he could not do something himself. He thrived on
trying to make himself appear self-sufficient - completely in control of
things - anything. He hesitated in what to tell her - a lie could so
easily slip past his lips, but the truth - that was something he wanted
to explain to her. When once she asked him if he sold drugs - he tolde
her no - then do you believe me - I believe anything that comes out of
your mouth.
"I was informed that my presence was not wanted, and that
I could no longre proceed in making money,"
"That's what Allie was doing up here the other day? Isn't it?"
"All you have to do is give him the fix,"
"I want to know why I have to do it?"
"Look, it's fucking simple, just give him the. . ."
"If it's so simple, you do it,"
Maggie turned to look in the mirror, but she averted her gaze
so that Marco's being would not be seen - acknowleged. She felt his
body tense - instantly she regretted what she had tolde him. He
grabbed her shoulders, violently pulling from the chair she had
lingred on. He dragged her short frame to the bed and threw her
on it - she fell on her side - lay still, silent. He quickly slammed
the door and locked it - turned the light out. Turning to gaze at where
he thought her figure should be, he considred the possibility that she
would appear as a beaten dog.
He walked to the bed and pulled Maggie into a sitting postion
- shook her once so that she would be fully awake. Maggie felt a sting
in her shouldres where he had grabbed her - warmth and dismay filtered
its way to her brain. Marco felt a nagging thought to hit her - he had
before, but he refrained from doing so, he wanted to attempt to be gentle
tonight - with words and actions. Maggie's voice cut through the shadow,
like a knife through buttre.
"Since when did you start following ordres from Leon?"
Marco embraced Maggie - he felt her entire being stiffen
and took the advantage to lay her down, her back to him. He kept
his arms enwrapped around her - he could hear her every breath -
short and anxious. He kissed her neck gently and rubbed the flesh
he had just maimed.
"He tolde me and Jimmy to stop - but someone else could do it,"
"Then he would hate me for all eternity,"
"He all ready does,"
She turned her head swiftly to try look at him - it was pointless,
too dark and colde. Maggie had to know - what had she done - nothing
personally to him, not that she could remembre anyhow. She sensed a
joyousness in Marco's voice as he informed her that Leon loathed here.
It made her ill to think that her once best friend held something so
opposite from what they had been. Jealousy, as olde as the world itself
- that is all Marco could inhabit.
"For being here with me, Maggie. He kicked you to the side for
that fucking whore, and he still wanted you at his feet like a
fucking lap dog,"
Maggie thought - what Marco was saying was probably a lie, but
if there was any truth to what he spoke, she could have died. Tears
leaked out of her eyes - silent and warm - onto Marco - he felt the
salty liquid and smiled sadistically. She hated Leon on now - or at
lest did not trust him.
"Leon won't find out about it, will he?"
"He won't even know it was you - we can blame it on Jimmy,"
"Okay,"
"You'll do it, then?"
"Yes, Marco - anything you ask of me,"
He tightened his holde on her - Marco nevre wanted to leave
this postion. He held everything now - money - Maggie - and the fear
and respect of others. This was what life was about, he mused: getting
the things one wanted and sticking it to others as much as one could.
He would have he vegeance - completely. In the dark - in the midst of
the shadows - Marco Vendetti smiled.
Maggie opened her eyes and sat up- she blinked away tears. The dream,
so increadibly real - what she could not remembre in her banks, came to her
while she slumbred. Why could she have not just walked away? She turned to
view Marco - the light adourned his body, while the blankets covered his lithe
form. In his position he was facing her, sleeping yes, but a menacing look
alighted upon his countenance.
She cringed as she lay back down, looking at him. Maggie prayed
that her sleep-disturbances did not wake him. That is what he wanted,
right - beer, food, sex, and sleep? In his point of vies, she supposed,
that was all that mattred to a man like him. She wanted so much more -
she wanted somone. . . Maggie would not go to those crevices of her mind -
she could not go. Maggie closed her eyes an breathed deeply - dreamless
sleep would have to come to her - it would just have to.
Marco slowly opend his eyes. He had been awake for a while now.
Since, Maggie had screamed out Leon's name in her slumbre, did he awake.
His first thoughts when he heard his name upon his lips was that he had
come for revenge. But, then he saw Maggie, her head awhirl and breath
raggid. He had listened closely - it was the night he had her do what
he had done for years. He did not regret, not in the least - she was
his in his mindset - his to have as well as to control.
He closed his eyes once more, drifting off with indifference.
So, Maggie and Marco lay facing each other in the chilled night. They
were dementingly perfect - love existed to a certain extent - a certain.
Somewhere, Maggie thought, there was some people in the world, a man and
a woman, doing the exact same thing they were. Laying in the same bed,
sleeping - drifting into the wondres of dreams.
could hold such deadly accuracy to such a night of dread. Yet, this
dream was a recollection of the dark hours that should not have been.
The foreboding atmosphere in the sky struck her heart, but it had begun
as an ordinary one - she, or no one could have ever know how that day would end.
Maggie sat in the back of Jimmy Pockets' car, waiting for Marco,
who reveled in making people wait for him as long as possible. Why she
had to accompany Marco and Jimmy, which Marco suddenly jumped up and
announced that they were going - but why she had to go, was well beyond
her. A droning tune, that bored Maggie to tear, played stridently.
She dropped her head into her hands, sighing heavily.
"Turn it off - please - I'm dying over here,"
Jimmy acknowledged her existence, through tremours of highness -
he heard her. Any other day he would be too drunk or stoned to even know
what a car was, now he felt in control - powerful. He snaked his hand to
the knob on the radio, turning it even louder. It took a moment for her
to realize what he had just done. His hand moving had given her the
inclination that he would follow her polite instruction.
Maggie groaned, but he audibleness was lost over the new song coming
on. She wanted to slap him in the back of his head. It would be so easy,
she thought; just smack him one time - that's all it would take. He's so
screwed in the head; I could knock him out with a feather. She scoffed,
just as Marco leaned on the car and slapped Jimmy. Flesh hitting flesh
sounded fresh to her ears - a slight revelry occurred.
"Don't be a fuckin' prick - do what she said," Marco commanded.
Jimmy held the area where Marco had hit him - there was pain,
a tiny bit, but then again he really did not care. Marco climbed in
the backseat with Maggie, holding his left pocket of his shirt. She
gazed at his hand, even when he sat down beside; he rested it there
continually. Maggie caught his eye, held it - he reached inside his
pocket. Jimmy started the car once more, idly rubbing the tendre
flesh that would be bruised by tomorrow.
It was obvious she was curious, this Marco knew, but he was not
going to give it to her at this moment - not with Jimmy in the car. The
object was simple in its own self, he thought briefly that it could be
considred a gift reflecting his "affection" toward her. He, even had
to scoff at that, which Maggie glanced at him quickly - strange how he
actually made a noise. Usually, he was silent - silent and calculating.
How she loathed that he would become as blankets of snow are. Maggie
would much prefer him criticizing her, as he often did - cursing at her
in a rage, than the silence.
The clouds blotted out the moone - thundre rolled in the
midst of silvre bolts bursting through the sky. Maggie Maloney
sat in the mastre bedroom of Jimmy Pockets' apartment. She leaned
closer to the window, the frigid glass bringing her a sense of relief
and tranquility. Now she was beginning to become tired - exhaustion
crept upon her as a tiger would its prey. She felt her head fall
forward and hit the glass - she awoke fully at the sound of the door
opening. From the mirror, she saw the reflection of Marco.
Turning around, she gazed as he stalked in. His expression was blank -
most of the times either blank or angry - occasionally a smirk graced his countenance.
Maggie felt as if all of her breath was being sucked out of her lungs: he knelt before
her on both knees. Nevre in all her life had she seen Marco Vendetti bow to anyone -
nevre. His hands played almost hesitantly upon her lap - she could feel his
warmth through her clothing.
She could not look him in the eyes, not now anyway. Intensity reigned
completely with a marble commandment in his orbs. There was something she could
not quite place - he was. . . anxious? Maggie shook her head, timidly - a look
split second of confusement on Marco's behalf. He trailed his right hand from
her lap to her face - he stroked her cheek, then dancing his fingres through her
hair. Maggie smiled contentedly, only it lasted for mere seconds.
Marco, in one swift movement, snuck his hand to the back of her
head and grabbed a handful of hair. It did not hurt - not exceeding anyhow
- but it pricked her heart to know that this was how much he respected her.
Insanity pressed upon his very mind - actions - it spilled onto Maggie in
endless waves. He ran his tongue over her lips slowly, bottom to top -
it was as a strange action of affection - but none-the-less it was his
own way of bestowing adorrance. His face so entirely close, she could
smell the cigarettes and beer - his breath warm - comforting in some
deranged way to her.
"You love me, don't you?" he asked, as if asking if she had betrayed him somehow.
Maggie thought to hesitate purposely - she could nevre tell him
straight out that she loved him. She knew he did not love her: she was
the only one who would stay, and be completely faithful to - as well as
nevre "knark" on him. He loosened his grip on her hair, smoothed it over
with his now gentle touch.
"Yes,"
She closed her eyes as not to see his expression, yet she could feel
the grin of satisfaction on his face. A glow radiate off of him and jumped
into her body. All Maggie could think is that, he would mock her in a few
moments. She waited - anticipated - it did not come - nor would it ever.
There was something else though, something caused her great distress.
"I want to hear you say it,"
"What?" the only word that would flow from her lips.
She spoke in a whisper, not just because she did not want Jimmy to
hear, but her heart and soul was timid. A flash of rage passed in his eyes
- she could see it. He wanted her to obey immediately - he wanted to be the
mastre and her the slave. This she did not have a problem with: a mastre and
slave relationship is simple - one tells the other what to do, when to do it,
and how to do it; but when the mastre asks the slave to tell them terms of
endearment - it upsets the balance.
"I love you,"
"And, you'd do anything for me, right?"
"Anything, Marco, anything,"
Maggie felt Marco run his fingers over her eyelids - she opened
them when her fingertips had passed. A brief smile invited her to be
open - defenseless. She gave him a soft, coy look - that was another
reason he kept her around - her meekness. That is how he preferred her
being - a mind she had, that he knew since they had grown up together -
but he was content when she did not express her every thought and belief
as most people do.
"You have to make a deal for me,"
She almost said 'what' again - not quite. A deal - a deal -
Maggie knew what that meant. Once she had asked him if he did all the
things she had heard - his rebuttal was to ask her who she had been
talking to? She attempted to tip-toe around who had actually confronted
her about what he had done and did, but he knew all along that it was Leon.
They had all been friends once - when they were youngre, so much youngre.
They had gone through all of school together - they could not be seperated.
But, at one point, Leon and Marco disagreed about how money should
be earned. It was no huge secret that Leon and his gang dove into a few
things that were illegal, but still, it was nothing big. When Marco wanted
to sell, though, that is when Leon broke off any connections with him - they
were hence forth enemies.
Maggie was in the middle, though, she always was. They were the
guys - the men - she was just a girl, and to them, that is all she would
ever be. Some things, they would include her in, but there was just some
of those things that they could not bring her into. At first, she was their
sistre - they protected her from the "big badness" in the world. Latre, when
they were in high school, she expressed her love for Leon. Needless to say,
he was completely and utterly shocked. He loved her - but if she had "only
tolde me soonre." Leon's heart belonged to Betsy - she was who he loved.
And, what could Maggie do - broken-hearted - maimed and being tortured
with the first hearache she had ever been subject to. There was Marco, standing
in the shadows of the night - waiting to console her. She could not believe that
he had cared so much as to wait for her outside her apartment - to see if she
needed anything. It was simple, really: Marco give her something that Leon
would not. She loved him, as well, though maybe not as depthful, but Marco
had demon's countenance - feathered fingres.
"Why can't Jimmy do it?"
"We can't do it," he answered - she should have known the answer.
"But - but, why?" Maggie pressed.
Marco inclined his head - he dis-like this inquiry. And, also a
little amused - she sounded interested, not in doing what he was asking,
but interested in why he could not do something himself. He thrived on
trying to make himself appear self-sufficient - completely in control of
things - anything. He hesitated in what to tell her - a lie could so
easily slip past his lips, but the truth - that was something he wanted
to explain to her. When once she asked him if he sold drugs - he tolde
her no - then do you believe me - I believe anything that comes out of
your mouth.
"I was informed that my presence was not wanted, and that
I could no longre proceed in making money,"
"That's what Allie was doing up here the other day? Isn't it?"
"All you have to do is give him the fix,"
"I want to know why I have to do it?"
"Look, it's fucking simple, just give him the. . ."
"If it's so simple, you do it,"
Maggie turned to look in the mirror, but she averted her gaze
so that Marco's being would not be seen - acknowleged. She felt his
body tense - instantly she regretted what she had tolde him. He
grabbed her shoulders, violently pulling from the chair she had
lingred on. He dragged her short frame to the bed and threw her
on it - she fell on her side - lay still, silent. He quickly slammed
the door and locked it - turned the light out. Turning to gaze at where
he thought her figure should be, he considred the possibility that she
would appear as a beaten dog.
He walked to the bed and pulled Maggie into a sitting postion
- shook her once so that she would be fully awake. Maggie felt a sting
in her shouldres where he had grabbed her - warmth and dismay filtered
its way to her brain. Marco felt a nagging thought to hit her - he had
before, but he refrained from doing so, he wanted to attempt to be gentle
tonight - with words and actions. Maggie's voice cut through the shadow,
like a knife through buttre.
"Since when did you start following ordres from Leon?"
Marco embraced Maggie - he felt her entire being stiffen
and took the advantage to lay her down, her back to him. He kept
his arms enwrapped around her - he could hear her every breath -
short and anxious. He kissed her neck gently and rubbed the flesh
he had just maimed.
"He tolde me and Jimmy to stop - but someone else could do it,"
"Then he would hate me for all eternity,"
"He all ready does,"
She turned her head swiftly to try look at him - it was pointless,
too dark and colde. Maggie had to know - what had she done - nothing
personally to him, not that she could remembre anyhow. She sensed a
joyousness in Marco's voice as he informed her that Leon loathed here.
It made her ill to think that her once best friend held something so
opposite from what they had been. Jealousy, as olde as the world itself
- that is all Marco could inhabit.
"For being here with me, Maggie. He kicked you to the side for
that fucking whore, and he still wanted you at his feet like a
fucking lap dog,"
Maggie thought - what Marco was saying was probably a lie, but
if there was any truth to what he spoke, she could have died. Tears
leaked out of her eyes - silent and warm - onto Marco - he felt the
salty liquid and smiled sadistically. She hated Leon on now - or at
lest did not trust him.
"Leon won't find out about it, will he?"
"He won't even know it was you - we can blame it on Jimmy,"
"Okay,"
"You'll do it, then?"
"Yes, Marco - anything you ask of me,"
He tightened his holde on her - Marco nevre wanted to leave
this postion. He held everything now - money - Maggie - and the fear
and respect of others. This was what life was about, he mused: getting
the things one wanted and sticking it to others as much as one could.
He would have he vegeance - completely. In the dark - in the midst of
the shadows - Marco Vendetti smiled.
Maggie opened her eyes and sat up- she blinked away tears. The dream,
so increadibly real - what she could not remembre in her banks, came to her
while she slumbred. Why could she have not just walked away? She turned to
view Marco - the light adourned his body, while the blankets covered his lithe
form. In his position he was facing her, sleeping yes, but a menacing look
alighted upon his countenance.
She cringed as she lay back down, looking at him. Maggie prayed
that her sleep-disturbances did not wake him. That is what he wanted,
right - beer, food, sex, and sleep? In his point of vies, she supposed,
that was all that mattred to a man like him. She wanted so much more -
she wanted somone. . . Maggie would not go to those crevices of her mind -
she could not go. Maggie closed her eyes an breathed deeply - dreamless
sleep would have to come to her - it would just have to.
Marco slowly opend his eyes. He had been awake for a while now.
Since, Maggie had screamed out Leon's name in her slumbre, did he awake.
His first thoughts when he heard his name upon his lips was that he had
come for revenge. But, then he saw Maggie, her head awhirl and breath
raggid. He had listened closely - it was the night he had her do what
he had done for years. He did not regret, not in the least - she was
his in his mindset - his to have as well as to control.
He closed his eyes once more, drifting off with indifference.
So, Maggie and Marco lay facing each other in the chilled night. They
were dementingly perfect - love existed to a certain extent - a certain.
Somewhere, Maggie thought, there was some people in the world, a man and
a woman, doing the exact same thing they were. Laying in the same bed,
sleeping - drifting into the wondres of dreams.