Warning: If intense feels/ violence mention upset you in any way, dont read on. This chapters one of the dark ones.
As promised, this was the plot twist I was telling y'all about. Read on for your cliff hanger.*Dun dun dun* I know, im a bastard. But you wont know anything else until chapter 17! AHAHAHAHAH
i better knock this shit off, before someone comes to my house with an angry mob. Enjoy, friends. -KrisRog out-
Rog pov:
Five months. Mark has been missing for five whole months. That fact in itself is making me want to puke. I wasn't sure how late I slept in today. I didn't get why I had to wake up. Even after turning in the evidence to the police, pointing out clear as day that this Jason guy had Mark, they responded with a simple "The investigation is still on-going" and that was that. Collins had to drag me out before I punched one of the sorry bastards. They had the nerve to call themselves police. Fuck them. Fuck them all.
As I lay awake in bed, watching the peeling paint on the ceiling, I heard Collin's hushed whisper talking on the phone. I didn't think much of it. Nobody really calls here anymore. He was probably telling Benny or Maureen about my declining mental state.
Something seemed different, though. I heard shuffling of papers on the table. After awhile of debating, I decided to emerge, and did so with a small "Hey." in his direction.
Upon seeing me, his expression dropped. He quickly told Benny he had to go, and hung up, turning to me, his arms across his chest.
I raised an eyebrow. He was watching me as if I was going to disappear. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but closed it. I looked down at the table. The newspaper sat there. On the front page, there was a massive headline.
"BODY DISCOVERED IN EAST RIVER. MUTILATED BEYOND RECOGNITION, DNA TESTING SEEMING IMPOSSIBLE" underneath that, there was a close in picture of a pair of rectangular framed glasses. I felt my stomach turn, and my legs begin to weaken.
I turned back to Collins, shaking my head, a look of pained disbelief on my face. He swallowed.
"We don't know for sure, Rog… but theres a pretty good chance…" he moved towards me.
I started breathing heavily, shutting my eyes, and shoving him away. I snarled in denial, and took the paper, chucking it across the room, the front page still in my hands. I tore it to pieces. With a scream of agony, I dropped to my knees, my rampage over. I curled in on myself, shaking my head over and over.
It suddenly hit me that this was without a doubt, Mark's demise. Horrors flashed through my mind. Images of Mark screaming for help, being torn apart, begging to be set free came to me. I could hear his agony in my ears. So many things I said. So many things I wouldnt say. Mark was gone. All because I couldn't keep him safe, like I always promised.
"No, no, no, no, no, no…." I whimpered, beginning to sob. Collins knelt beside me, stroking my back. I was shaking.
"The DNA testing won't get back for another month… we have to stay hopeful… there is a small chance…"
I snapped my head up. "Oh, come off it, Collins! Those are his fucking glasses! you and I both know it! For fuck sake, why won't this fucking let up-" I choked once more.
I wasn't sure how long I stayed like that. Crying, screaming, babbling like an incoherent two year old. All I remember was thinking the same thoughts in my head over and over again: The love of my life was gone. Dead. I didn't need the DNA tests. I felt sick. I knew it was him.
Collins eventually gave up on trying to calm me down, but he still sat beside me, rubbing my back. All of the times I had fought with Mark began replaying in my mind. All of the times I screamed out hatred and venom during withdrawal. All of the punches that were thrown. All of the times I should have apologized, but didnt, because I figured Mark knew we were okay. Fuck, how many times had I actually told him I loved him in all the time we were dating?
Before I knew it, night had fallen. I had no intention of getting up from the floor. Why should I? it was over. We failed. Mark was dead. That fact still wouldnt sit right. I was going to be in denial, I knew it, and it made me feel nauseous. Collins had left my side about an hour ago.
I suddenly felt a more gentle hand on my arm. I opened my puffy eyes to see Maureen and Joanne looming over me.
"Baby, we heard what happened…" Maureen whispered. I studied her silently. She had obviously been bawling herself. Joanne looked better. I knew she was looking to the bright side of things. She would take the same argument Collins had, that "The DNA test isn't back yet, we don't know for sure" Fuck that. I had a feeling in my gut how it would return. It was Mark, I knew it was.
I simply ignored the drama queen, the same dead look on my face I had adopted for hours. She gave my arm a gentle tug.
"Roggy, we have to get you to the couch, okay? you can't stay on the floor…"
"Dont call me that!" I screamed suddenly, yanking out of her grasp. She watched me with wide eyes. "I'm not a child! I can get up myself!" I got to my feet, and stormed to my room, slamming the door behind me with such force, I wondered if the thing had broken off it's hinges.
"Roger!" Collins had yelled after me, but I curled up in my bed, burying myself beneath the blankets, and shutting my eyes tightly, willing this all to be just a dream. A sick, sick nightmare that id wake up from. Id find Mark beside me, and things would be okay.
"But they AREN'T okay". I reminded myself, taking choppy breaths, and trying to keep myself from having a panic attack. I wished now more than ever that my disease would kill me. Where was I without Mark? The man i've known since elementary school.
"Hey Cohen! where do you think you're goin!?" a tall fifth grader yelled, cornering the smaller third grader behind the sandbox, where Mark loved to play.
"I wanted t-to p-play with my t-trucks…" the small child whimpered, his rectangular framed glasses slipping down his face for a second as he pushed them back up the bridge of his nose.
Two fourth graders joined them, evil grins on their face. Mark began to back away.
"Whats the hurry?" one fourth grader asked as Mark bumped into his chest. Mark whirled around, gazing up at the child in fear, and backing up in the other direction when suddenly, the fifth grader captured his arms, and held him still. He tried to scream, but the covered his mouth as they began to beat him up, out of the view of their teacher.
After what seemed like hours for poor little Mark, a voice suddenly called out.
"Hey!" the three boys stopped what they were doing, turning to look where the source of the voice was. A taller, well built for his age fifth grader stood there, glaring at them. They all cringed when the recognized who he was. Roger Davis, one of the tougher, cooler kids.
"What do you want!?" snapped a fourth grader, giving Mark another kick. Mark squeaked, falling into the dust, and beginning to cry.
"Leave him alone." Roger hissed, his voice full of venom. "Hes just a little kid."
"So are you!" snapped the fifth grader. Roger stepped forward angrily.
"I said, LEAVE HIM ALONE!" his loud voice made one of the fourth graders wince, and begin to back up.
"Oh yeah? what are you gonna do about it?" sneered the fifth grader. Roger took his opportunity. He shot forward like lightning, picking up one of the fourth graders, who bucked and squealed in protest. He lifted him over his head, and thew him across the sandbox, smirking as the smaller boy got a mouthful of dirt on his way down.
The fifth and other fourth grader instantly went for Roger, but he was quicker. He ducked out of the way at just the right moment, and the two slammed into each other. He picked the disoriented fifth grader up by the front of his shirt, pinning him against the slide, his fist raised above his head.
"If I EVER… catch you near that boy again…" The fifth grader's eyes began to water in fear, and he shrank lower, nodding quickly as Roger's scowl pierced him. Roger threw him to the ground in disgust, and the child whimpered, gathering up his friends before they all ran off, terrified. Roger watched them go angrily before turning around. The sight he saw broke his heart.
Mark was squirming in the dirt, trying to find his glasses, still sobbing to himself. Roger quickly made his way over to him, and picked up the smaller boy's glasses, cleaning them off with his shirt, and handing them over. The child let out a distressed hiccup before sliding them back onto his face, and gazing at Roger with sadness, and wonder.
"Are you okay?" Roger asked, brushing some dirt off the boy's cheek. To his surprise, Mark smiled a little.
"Ye-yeah…. thanks to you…" Roger couldn't help but smile himself. "I'm Mark…" the child piped up, extending his hand. Roger shook it.
"Roger." he murmured. Mark was adorable. With large, icy blue eyes, he resembled a puppy. Suddenly, the blond started to cry again.
"What's wrong?" Roger asked with concern. Mark pointed to the spot where his toy was.
"They took my truck… that was my favorite truck…"
Roger hated hearing his new friend cry. He got an idea, and pulled a toy race car out of his pocket. He grinned, wiping a few tears from Mark's face.
"Hey, hey… it's okay… shhh…" Mark sniffled, looking at Roger with wide eyes. Roger put the car into his hands. "Its not as cool as a truck, but its something… its my favorite."
Mark looked down at the toy in his hands, then back up to Roger. "This is for me?" Roger nodded. "But what will you play with?" Roger shrugged.
"I don't really play with it much anyways. How about tomorrow I bring us some more cars to play with, maybe I can find you a truck after all. We can share." Mark suddenly grinned with excitement.
"Really?" Roger nodded, and the tiny blond had suddenly thrown himself at Roger, hugging the taller boy tightly, and laughing. Roger was taken aback at the sudden affection, but quickly returned it with a smile. "Youre the bestest friend I ever had! thanks Roggy!"
That was the first time Mark had called me Roggy. We were inseparable from then on, and I had always vowed to keep him safe. I couldn't stop from choking up again. I began to cry once more, wishing to be back on that playground, when things were simpler, when all me and Mark had to worry about for the day was catching enough frogs behind my house to gross out Cindy with. When we spent our snack time together, and our lunchtime together, and our recess playing cars and tag and play wrestling on the ground until the teacher put us both in time out, but we didn't care. We had each other. When one was absent, the other would sulk all day, until the next recess when we were reunited with a tight hug, and a giggle, and a "Where were you!?"
I would have given anything for the news I learned to not be true. As I was surrounded now in my room by memories, and misery, the old times swirling around my head and taunting me, I covered my eyes and ears, letting out a scream, and begging it all to stop.