Three

I don't know how long I sat alone in that room. I'm a horrible judge of time when I don't have a clock around, so I couldn't even begin to guess. Most of my time alone, was just that. Alone. However, I do remember the shock I felt when the silence surrounding me was broken when the security system's metal shutters loudly closed over all the windows, deepening the already dim light throughout the house. After that it was back to waiting.

Alone and immobile, all that was left to do was think. One in my situation should at that time have been thinking about how one was going to get oneself out of the situation. But I couldn't get my mind around Mars. I didn't have enough information about him to truly analyze him yet, but his loneliness and need for attention were obvious. I suddenly understood the women who marry serial killers, even on death row. There is an appeal to psychosis, especially for women. It caters to the nurturing instinct; the instinct to protect. That appeal grows more complex with a man like Mars; both strong and weak, both arrogant and insecure, both demanding and gentle. Someone to protect and be protected by. It really was beautiful.

Occasionally during my wait, I'd hear the boys arguing downstairs, but mostly all was quiet. It seemed everyone in the house was waiting now. But, what were Dennis, Kevin, and Mars waiting for? What more could they possibly do? They could never get out of this. From what I'd seen of Dennis, all I could think was, ignorant as he seemed about what he was doing, he was trying to make some kind of a deal with the cops. But, Mars should know that would never work.

We were all trapped. The seven of us were trapped inside, the cops were trapped outside. The irony, even humour, of it all was not lost on me. But at this point, what could I do with irony? What could I do with analysis, or even thought? The only thing that I could possibly do to change anything was act, and currently that option was not available to me.

I looked around the dimly lit room. It was the guest bedroom, so of course it was sparce. I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall above the bed. I looked at my jacket, hung neatly over the side of a chair a few feet away from the bed. I stared at the jacket longingly, wishing desperately for the pack of cigarettes inits pocket. I groaned and turned my gaze away from the jacket. I waited.

----

Finally, I heard heavy footsteps in the hall. I looked up to see the door open, slowly, almost bashfully, and Mars stepped in hesitantly, quietly closing the door behind him. His tangled brown hair veiled his face as he entered the room. He turned on the lamp in the corner, and pulled two guns from his belt, setting them on the small table near the door. I could see his face now as he turned to look at me.

"Could you..." I hesitated in my question, and he looked at me inquisitvely, awaiting my request. "Get my cigarettes out of my jacket?"

Mars smiled briefly, though amiably, picking up my jacket and pulling the pack of cigarettes from the pocket. Sitting down on the bed next to me, he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. I leaned toward him, expecting him to give it to me. He moved closer, as well, but brought the cigarette to his own lips, inhaling deeply. He moved still closer to me, his eyes locked on mine now, and I realized his intention. God, he was beautiful. Eagerly, I moved my face closer to his, meeting his lips and inhaling the smoke as he exhaled it. I held my breath, savoring it, then finally exhaled. The smoke filled the small space between us.

I smiled, readjusting myself so that I was closer to him. His hand ran through my hair and he touched my cheek so lightly I could barely feel it. I saw now just how much his hands were shaking. I looked into his eyes with sympathy. I pressed my hands to his chest, my wrists still taped together. I wanted to hold him, to stop his shaking, to ease his insecurity. Mars must have seen that longing in my eyes. Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he reached into his pocket, bringing out a knife. I breathed relief as he flicked the knife open, easily cutting the tape around my wrists and ankles.

He leaned away from the bed, depositing the cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand and placing the knife next to it. As soon as his hands were free, I impatiently embraced him. I held him tightly, inhaling the lingering smell of previous cigarettes in his hair and on his jacket. I felt his hands on my back, felt them rake through my hair. I felt him bury his face in my shoulder, just like my little brother had done earlier that day.

I pulled away from him, and exchanged a hug for a kiss. It was my turn now, to run my fingers through his embroiled hair. His hands moved to my waist, trying to pull my body closer to his. My hands grasped his shoulders as his kiss became rougher, more demanding. His tongue entered my mouth and I couldn't breathe. I was kissing a god. Finally, he released me, and I gasped for air. I had barely taken a full breath before his lips were back on mine. I reduced this potentially long kiss into a series of short ones. I backed away from him slightly, wanting to speak with him but not wanting to anger him.

"Tell me something," I requested, breathless.

"What?" He kissed me again.

"Anything." Another kiss. "Tell me something about you."

Then the kisses stopped. Mars recoiled abruptly, relinquishing my company as suddenly as he'd obtained it. I felt wrong without him near, and I moved toward him. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, his eyes cast to the floor, the chaos of his dark hair shielding his facefrom me again. I kneeled on the bed next to him, pulling his hair back like a curtain and kissing his neck.

"I'm sorry..." I began an apology but his words collided with and overpowered mine.

"It sucks your mom died." He turned his head to me, and I let my hand slip from his hair, down his back. "My parents are dead too."

I opened my mouth, intending to ask him how he knew that my mom was dead, but I didn't want to trample the moment that held the potential for me to learn his past. I instead looked at him inquisitively, encouraging him to go on.

"My mom...she just walked out on my old man." His eyes moved back to staring at the floor. "Then he just, like...died. Died of a broken heart," he concluded, his eyes moving back to me. He leaned past me, grabbing the cigarette from the ash tray and taking a drag from it. "How'd your mom die?" He asked.

"She was in a car accident," I replied, nodding.

"Sucks." Mars took another drag from the cigarette.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was really close with her."

He exhaled and I took the cigarette from him, finishing it off and putting it out in the ash tray. "Were you close to your parents?"

Mars silently shook his head no. "I never really had the time."

I nodded, a piece of the puzzle of Mars' life in my possession now. He turned back to me, his eyes sorrowful, a child needing solace. I smiled, ready to comfort him. I pulled my shoes off and moved to the center of the bed. I held my hands out to him. "C'mere."

I caught the flash of a smile that crossed Mars' face, the smile that was gone as quickly as it had come. He pulled off his heavy boots and his jacket and followed me onto the bed. I smiled again, biting my lip in anticipation. He kissed me as I unbuttoned his dark longsleeve shirt and pulled it off of him. I halted the kiss so I could pull his second shirt over his head, finally exposing his bare chest. I stopped, taking a moment just to stare at him. I ran my hands over his smooth, toned abdominal muscles. The body of a god as well. I moved my gaze to his face, and I saw his first real smile. A smile for the attention I was giving him. A smile for the love and lust he saw in my eyes. I playfully returned the smile, roughly pushing him back onto the bed.