Marquise

“God, I don’t...I don’t know how to do this. I came to you at my most vulnerable when I was a little kid, and you didn’t answer me then. So, I don’t know why I think you will now, but I am willing to try anything for you to answer me now. Please, send her back to me. I can’t...I can’t make it without her. She resuscitated me and fucking brought me back to life. Now what? I die again? I swear I will not ask you for anything else, just...send my life back to me.” I plead, feeling like a failure. Getting off my knees, I lay on her side of the bed. My head is smothered in her pillow as I try to soothe myself with her scent. I have to get her back. This is my last thought before I pass out. The alcohol courses through my body, giving me a way to not feel. Just going to let Zayn put me to sleep.Ugh. The sun and I are not friends right now. I roll over, refusing to acknowledge the annoying ass brightness covering me right now. Shit! I pick up my phone and check it to make sure I didn’t miss a text from her. Nothing. I roll over, refusing to give the sun any accolades, but it doesn’t matter. All I see are dark spots covering my sight. All I hear is the ringing of the shots as they encircle my ears, clanging and repeating over and over. The begging. For her life and mine.

Please, Marcus. I love you. I always do as you ask. What is going to happen to our son?” I get in the shower with my clothes on, needing to wash the memory from my mind. Son of a bitch. There is nothing to drown out the noise, without Chrissy. She is the barrier to the life I thought I left behind. I won’t make it without her. I have to get her back.

Determination takes the place of the memory, I remove my clothes, wash up, and get dressed. I look like shit, but who the fuck cares. I have to find her. But first, I have to do something for her. Something to prove to her, that she is ALL I need. I need to...remove the last of my shields and allow her the room to encompass me in her love.

Walking into my piano room, I begin to play the one song I think will say what I can’t seem to put into words. Once I am done, without thinking I put the SD card in an envelope and label it wedding day. It's crazy I know, but one way or another she is going to be my wife. Grabbing my keys to walk out the door and search for her. Before I make it to the door, it suddenly opens, and she walks in.

“What are you still doing here? You should be in the office already.” Is she serious right now?

“What the hell do you think I am doing here. I am fucking dying...Chrissy. I didn’t know if you wereay...if something happened to you. I mean Christ. Are you...okay?” I don’t know why but the potential answer scares me.

“No, Marquise. I am not okay, and I don’t know...what this is.” she gestures between the two of us. “I don’t know if I even belong in your world. I thought you had let me in… or at least that you would at some point, but…” I grab her and pull her into me, the oxygen returning to my lungs.

“I am so sorry baby, I never wanted you to feel anything but cherished. I am fucked up, Goddess. I know I told you about my childhood. About the… arrangement and lifestyle my parents led. But I didn't tell you everything. About how I came to be in foster care. I want to tell you, but not like this. Can I pick you up and carry you into our bed, so I can hold you while I tell you the rest? You might decide you don’t want me after you hear.” her hands come to face.

“I could never not want you, but you have to let me help you, the way you helped me.” I lift her and walk into the bedroom. I want nothing more than to strip and fuck her until she promises to never walk out again. But I need to get this out. If not for me, then for the future I want to have.

“Like I told you before, my father would force my mother to sleep with other men and then be consumed with jealousy and rage. He would make her ‘pay’ for betraying him. It took me years to realize he got a sort of high out of being in command of her every move, but also in punishing her. I learned in high school that the term is a sadist. One day I came home to my mother on her knees, apologizing for having fucked my father's best friend. She was begging him to forgive her. Reassuring him she didn’t enjoy it. Trying to remind him it was his command. Pleading for my childhood not to be damaged.