Disclaimer: I do not own Mort or Amy.
A/N: This has nothing to do w/ the movie. It's just something really short I wrote and wanted it to be about Mort.
Visual Scene
A beautifully decorated living room, torn apart. Broken glass covers the floor, tables overturned. In a plush white chair, a girl sits smoking a cigarette and staring blankly at the floor. Her long blonde hair is slightly mussed and her caramel skin flawed by the forming bruise on her cheek.
On the worn couch sits a man. A man whose brown eyes and amazing smile is known and recognized everywhere. He runs a hand through his chin-length brown highlighted hair and sighs.
Blank stares and smoke are the only things that show she's still there.
"Are you okay?" Mort asks, finally.
No response.
"I asked you a question"
"I'm fine" {Why do you care?}
"You don't look fine"
"Yeah, well you should be proud"
"See? This is the attitude that starts this shit"
"Whatever"
Oddly enough, he's disturbed.
Amy used to cry and apologize and beg for his forgiveness.
Now, all he gets is emptiness.
"Your lip is bleeding"
"I don't care."
"You do know why I do this, don't you?"
"Yes"{Jesus, just leave me alone}
"Why?"
"I don't feel like talking"
"Why do I punish you?"
She never breaks her gaze from the floor as she sighs.
"Because I don't listen to you" {Because you're a sick fuck who gets off on my misery}
"Exactly. If you'd listen to me, none of this would have to happen."
"Yeah, sure"
"Do you love me?"
"What?"
"You heard me"
"Yes, I love you. Maybe a little too much"
"I love you too. I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I went too far this time"
"It's okay" {Because next time will be the same, if not worse}
"No, I-we can get help"
Another cigarette lit. She smokes too much.
"Whatever you want" {As if you'll actually do it}
"Tell me what you're thinking"
"I'm not thinking about anything"
"Yes you are. I can see it in your eyes."
"What do you see?" {Funny, I haven't looked at you since we started fighting}
"I see love and anger. And hate. Do you hate me?"
"No" {YES! With every part of my being}
"Do you want to make me feel your pain?"
He's taunting her.
She grinds her teeth and doesn't speak.
"Do you want to hit me?"
"No"
"Come on, don't be mad, you know I didn't mean it"
"You never do"
"It's your fault. Maybe if you didn't provoke me, this wouldn't happen"
"Yeah, maybe"
"Sometimes you just need to shut up"
"Yeah, you too"
"Damnit! Just shut your fucking mouth for one minute!"
A cigarette put out. After a second thought, another is lit.
"You smoke too much"
"I know"
"Tomorrow I'll call a cleaning service to pick this mess up"
"Okay" {Like always}
"Look, I don't want to go to sleep mad at you"
"Then don't"
"Promise me we won't fight like this"
"Yeah, okay" {As if I'm the one starting these fights}
"No, promise me"
"I promise"
"I love you"
"No you don't"
"Yes I do. That's why I do this"
"I'll bet. I'm going to bed"
Cigarette gets butted out.
"Wait"
She sits back in the chair and remains silent.
He looks as though he wants to say something, but he never opens his mouth.
The silence over takes them.
"I'm sorry"
"Apology accepted"
"Really though, I didn't mean it"
"Of course not. You never mean it. Goodnight"
A/N: This has nothing to do w/ the movie. It's just something really short I wrote and wanted it to be about Mort.
Visual Scene
A beautifully decorated living room, torn apart. Broken glass covers the floor, tables overturned. In a plush white chair, a girl sits smoking a cigarette and staring blankly at the floor. Her long blonde hair is slightly mussed and her caramel skin flawed by the forming bruise on her cheek.
On the worn couch sits a man. A man whose brown eyes and amazing smile is known and recognized everywhere. He runs a hand through his chin-length brown highlighted hair and sighs.
Blank stares and smoke are the only things that show she's still there.
"Are you okay?" Mort asks, finally.
No response.
"I asked you a question"
"I'm fine" {Why do you care?}
"You don't look fine"
"Yeah, well you should be proud"
"See? This is the attitude that starts this shit"
"Whatever"
Oddly enough, he's disturbed.
Amy used to cry and apologize and beg for his forgiveness.
Now, all he gets is emptiness.
"Your lip is bleeding"
"I don't care."
"You do know why I do this, don't you?"
"Yes"{Jesus, just leave me alone}
"Why?"
"I don't feel like talking"
"Why do I punish you?"
She never breaks her gaze from the floor as she sighs.
"Because I don't listen to you" {Because you're a sick fuck who gets off on my misery}
"Exactly. If you'd listen to me, none of this would have to happen."
"Yeah, sure"
"Do you love me?"
"What?"
"You heard me"
"Yes, I love you. Maybe a little too much"
"I love you too. I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I went too far this time"
"It's okay" {Because next time will be the same, if not worse}
"No, I-we can get help"
Another cigarette lit. She smokes too much.
"Whatever you want" {As if you'll actually do it}
"Tell me what you're thinking"
"I'm not thinking about anything"
"Yes you are. I can see it in your eyes."
"What do you see?" {Funny, I haven't looked at you since we started fighting}
"I see love and anger. And hate. Do you hate me?"
"No" {YES! With every part of my being}
"Do you want to make me feel your pain?"
He's taunting her.
She grinds her teeth and doesn't speak.
"Do you want to hit me?"
"No"
"Come on, don't be mad, you know I didn't mean it"
"You never do"
"It's your fault. Maybe if you didn't provoke me, this wouldn't happen"
"Yeah, maybe"
"Sometimes you just need to shut up"
"Yeah, you too"
"Damnit! Just shut your fucking mouth for one minute!"
A cigarette put out. After a second thought, another is lit.
"You smoke too much"
"I know"
"Tomorrow I'll call a cleaning service to pick this mess up"
"Okay" {Like always}
"Look, I don't want to go to sleep mad at you"
"Then don't"
"Promise me we won't fight like this"
"Yeah, okay" {As if I'm the one starting these fights}
"No, promise me"
"I promise"
"I love you"
"No you don't"
"Yes I do. That's why I do this"
"I'll bet. I'm going to bed"
Cigarette gets butted out.
"Wait"
She sits back in the chair and remains silent.
He looks as though he wants to say something, but he never opens his mouth.
The silence over takes them.
"I'm sorry"
"Apology accepted"
"Really though, I didn't mean it"
"Of course not. You never mean it. Goodnight"
