I hope you guys are enjoying the story. It's quite fun to write actually (well, at least Morgan is). Remember, only Jonathon Larson owns RENT.
I trudged up the steps into the hospital, Burger King bag in hand. I'd managed to call Anne at the restaurant, and she was supposedly going to be there 'any minute now'. I hid the bag of food under my jacket as I walked past the front desk. The hospital always seemed to have weird rules and I didn't want to take any chances.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in the door was the orange bottle of Morgan's pills on the end table. Sighing, I picked them up and stuffed them in my jacket pocket. "And why didn't anyone tell me I forgot these?" I asked.
"You walked out too soon," Roger answered, "And now that I've got you back here, you're stuck. You weren't supposed to leave Sleeping Beauty."
"I have food," I said, "Be nice."
Roger laughed, and grabbed the bag out of my hand and distributed it equally among Mimi, Anne, himself and me. I took a big bite out of my burger and smiled. It'd been a long time since I'd had Burger King. Everyone else seemed to like it as well.
Everyone, of course, except for Anne. She smiled and thanked me for the food, eating a single fry than placing the rest on the ground by her feet. I looked at her trying my hardest not to jump to conclusions.
"I'm not really hungry." She mumbled, "I will be once I get out of here though."
I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow at her.
"I don't like hospitals." She mumbled into her sketchpad.
"Oh."
After about two hours of talking and sitting around, I began to get restless. "I'm going to go check up on Morgan. See you guys later."
"I'll go too!" chimed Anne, obviously happy to have a reason to leave the cramped hospital room. Picking up her food and stuffing it in the bag, Anne followed me out the door.
Before we even left the room, I heard Mimi and Roger laughing, hopefully meaning she'd get better soon and everything could go back to normal. Of course, Roger and Mimi weren't the only ones having fun. Anne and I talked nonstop on the way to the loft.
"So what do you usually draw?" I asked, unusually interested.
"Oh, it depends," she answered, "I draw what appeals to me. Inner beauty is a biggie, but I usually just draw what I can."
I nodded, and she asked, "What do you usually film?"
"I used to do scripted stuff, but now I'm big on documentaries. I just finished one about HIV and homeless people and shit like that."
The talking continued, and we soon found ourselves at the loft. Still laughing and chatting, we walked up the stairs. Gasping, our conversation stopped abruptly as we entered the room.
The loft was a mess! Furniture was overturned. Cabinets were open and food was all over the place. There were muddy footprints everywhere. Some, however, were red. I sure hope that isn't blood. I thought to myself, nearly gagging. It looked like we'd been mugged.
A sour taste filled my mouth. Where was Morgan? My heart picked up pace and I began searching the loft for any signs of my little sister, hoping she was okay. "She's over here!" I heard Anne call.
I rushed over to her. Sure enough, Morgan was huddled in the corner, covered in that red stuff, most probably blood now that I thought about it. "Morgan, what happened?" I asked urgently.
"Oh it was terrible!" she moaned, starting to cry.
She looked up at me, and a smile slowly crossed her face. "Morgan…"
"That's the last time you desert me here!" she nearly yelled, bursting out laughing, "Gosh, you should have seen the look on your face!"
"Morgan, you really scared me! That was a really mean thing to do!" I yelled.
"'Serves you right," she mumbled, still giggling.
"Why I ought to…" I whispered, grinding my teeth.
"Ought to what?" she asked teasingly, "Strangle me to death?"
"Doesn't sound half bad," I muttered before reaching out.
"Eep!" Morgan squealed.
"Mark!" Anne yelled, "Leave your sister alone."
"Why?"
"Because I know a better way to get back at her."
Morgan paled and her eyes grew large. "Uh oh…"
"Mark," Anne instructed, "Watch Morgan. I'll be right back. Just need to make a phone call. But I think I'll use Mimi's phone. I don't want Morgan to hear."
I nodded as Anne smiled mischievously and disappeared out the door. I glanced at Morgan, who was beginning to tremble and rock back and forth nervously. I laughed to myself and pulled the note I'd taped to her head not too long ago off her forehead. "You're such a loser," I mumbled, crumpling it.
However, Morgan didn't seem to hear me, because Anne walked in the door, hiding something behind her back. "Handcuffs!" she squealed, raising Mimi's handcuffs into the air triumphantly. I thought Mimi only used those for work, I thought to myself, I'll have to ask Roger about that.
Morgan paled even more (if that was possible) and started whimpering. "Please Mark!" she begged, "I'll be good! Please don't do it!"
I just shook my head and said, "Nope, you deserve this."
"Where should we cuff her?" Anne asked.
"The couch?"
"Nah, she'd escape."
"The counter?"
"That might work."
"Oh!" I exclaimed, "I know! The pipes! Or even better, the fire escape!"
"The fire escape's a bit harsh, Mark," Anne muttered, "It's pretty cold out there. The pipes will have to do!"
About half an hour of kicking and two bruises later, Anne and I had gotten Morgan handcuffed to the pipes.
"This means war." She mumbled, eyes narrowed.
"Oh, it's on." Anne said plopping herself onto the couch. The three of us battled for a while before Morgan started to complain.
"Come on, I think this is punishment enough. Will you get me down now?"
"Fine," I muttered. Looking on the table where I had left the key, I picked it up and slipped it in my pocket. Grinning evilly I muttered a faint "Oops!"
"Oops?" Morgan asked, obviously not the reaction she had in mind, "OOPS! Don't tell me you lost the key!"
"Lost? No, it's not lost. I'm just not entirely sure where it is."
I winked at Anne, who was laughing at the entire situation. She caught the game and played along.
"I hate you Mark, I really really hate you." Morgan muttered, trying to keep from laughing along with Anne.
"Awww you don't mean that!"
"Like you don't really mean you lost the key?" she asked mischievously.
"Exactly!" I stated, "Hey Anne, wanna go for a walk?"
"No," Morgan whispered.
"Yes!" Anne said.
"Shit."
"Morgan, don't swear," I muttered, "We'll be back in a little bit."
"GET ME THE FUCK DOWN!" Morgan screeched.
"Not with that attitude!" I said before walking out the door with Anne.
As soon as we reached the street, Anne asked, "How long are we gonna leave her there?"
"Oh, not too long," I answered, "An hour, two at the most. She'll live."
To be continued…
