The Soulless

Chapter Eight. Mark

That night I walked home extremely slow. I didn’t care if it was late, or that I indeed had to walk through a field of sunflowers almost the entire night, or that the Blackthorns would be worried about me.

I had no idea what had gotten into me out of a sudden, but out of a sudden, I just couldn’t find my focus. It happened like this all the time. Every time I thought I got it under control when I finally believed I was beginning to figure my new life out, something stood in my way, something horrible to keep me grounded and believing there was no f*****g way back, or ahead for that matter: my first memory, the boy I met at the mall, the dreams, now this. All these events were like designed by the Universe itself to play with my mental state and make me realize I could not live a normal life, that I was indeed, a freak.

Yeah, that’s what I felt that night when I walked back to the farmhouse. Not fear, not melancholy, not numbness. It was just… emptiness. With every beat of my heart I felt it, it was like I was hollow inside. Partly because I wasn’t normal. And it was not a feeling one could describe easily when realizing they are not like the others. All that talk that being different is what makes us unique… they are worthless at the feral fear that you might never be accepted because something inside you, something you can’t change, is not made of the same material like everyone else.

Dread, disgust, loneliness. I was scared to talk about it with the Blackthorns. What if this time they didn’t understand? What if the fact that I was a freak of nature turned out to be the last straw of their patience? Maybe they’d deem me dangerous and lock me somewhere to rot. I wasn’t sure what I was capable of. What if one day I woke up in the middle of the night and massacred them? What if this was the thing I begged Adan to beat out of me back in my only memory?

Or, maybe, they would think I was crazy. I could already image some nasty doctor diagnosing me with god knew what and then stuffing me with pills until I got so numb that drool pulled out of my mouth and I couldn’t form any coherent thought.

No, I couldn’t speak with anybody about it. The support and trust of the people next to me meant more than being honest. I was selfish that way and I wouldn’t let go of what I had for a leap of faith which I didn’t even feel. Losing the respect of Abbie and Jonathan would feel like losing myself all over again. So, when I got home, I didn’t say a word. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. They were all fixed on a bigger, more urgent, and extremely annoying problem. Mark.

The moment I was back I knew he was trouble, and his coming home would mean a change in everything I knew about the cosy little home I had found for myself. Maybe I should move out, it was the only rational thing to do, but just the thought of not seeing Abbie daily made me restless and sad. At least I would start paying rent if I wanted to stay.

It was already dawning when I locked the front door and tried to tiptoe my way to my room. The fight had died down sometime during the night and the living room seemed empty. I let out a sigh of relief and went to the stairs when a sharp mocking voice made me stop in my tracks.

“Wandering around my house, sweetheart?” Mark dragged from the sofa, and I cursed silently. I didn’t have the strength or willpower to deal with him right now.

“None of your business,” I said through clenched teeth, then returned to my way up to my room. Not his, my room. f**k him and his stupid bickering. Wasn’t he tired of sparring with his dad all night anyway?

“Well, I would really like to make it my business, love, just give me…” His words cut abruptly and a slow thud reached my ears, the sound peculiar enough to make me peak a glance towards him.

Asleep. The bastard had fallen asleep in the middle of our not-conversation. He lay sprawled on the sofa, one booted leg on the floor and the other resting on Abbie’s soft cushions. The leather jacket was still on him and his hair looked even messier than before. Now when the daylight finally reached him, he looked almost… peaceful, and not at all shabby, as I had originally thought. Not shabby at all, the fucker. His worn-out black shirt was designer, made of smooth materials and fine lines, enunciating every inch of his toned torso. It was slightly pulled up revealing firm abs, a clear hint of a six-pack. Another, or maybe the same?, tattoo crawled on his right side, some strong harsh lines of black and red and dark poisonous green that made me wonder what was really hidden underneath the rest of the stupid shirt with its small hole on the left. And now I wondered what it would be like if I traced the lines of this tattoo with my tongue. Wait, what?

What the hell was wrong with me? Furious for no reason, I stumbled back to my room, suddenly feeling my face on fire, my heart pounding like crazy in my chest. Technically, pining over some real dude, even said dude acted like a douchebag was much better than dying every day because of someone I had never met before. But… not when said douchebag was Mark Blackthorn. A Mark Blackthorn who was here to stay.

Things did change with his appearance at the house. I did start paying rent, but only because I insisted, and Abbie and Jonathan continued living here as if nothing happened, just the mood suddenly changed from light to dark grey. Mark moved to the attic rooms and we barely saw him at all. He didn’t do much, just slept for the whole day and the nights he was too busy running around Auguste with his expensive car, drinking and playing with his new and old buddies as if he didn’t give a damn about anything in this world, but annoying everyone who cared about him.

Busy with my work, and the new online class that I was taking, I shouldn’t be able to even notice him around the house. But I did notice because he spent every waking minute he was in the house finding reasons to torment me. He came up with whatever mockery and stupid bickering he could find and threw it all at me. The guy hated me for taking his place in his parents’ life, which made no damn sense whatsoever, and for his stupid way of thinking, and acting, I hated him too. He was pushing and pulling on my nerves and even though I did bite back, even in his family’s presence, because why would I let him stomp over me, he didn’t stop his crusade at testing my patience.

In the early mornings when I was busy getting ready for work, Mark would cross my path loaded with some biting comment, his tone always superior, his smirk everpresent on his full lips. God, how I wanted to smash that stupid smirk out of his pierced face! But, the weirdest part was I never met him during the days. When I was on my middle shift and had time to come back home and read in silence, I managed to do it, because Mark was sleeping. In times like this, I almost forgot he existed. But then later in the evening he would wake up and start picking at me anew. His sleeping habits bordered those of a bat. Or a vampire, if one believes in this s**t. But of course, it was all so that he could drink his nights away.

But it got to me, my newfound curiosity. What was he doing really? It was not like he appeared to have any interests besides sleeping and picking fights with me or annoying his father, oh, and read his stupid books which he stole back from my room, or getting drunk in the town. No one knew where he got his money from and no one dared to ask.

Because of Mark, Jonathan started to come home later and later. Carl was barely home either. On the short occasions, they were all home fights erupted and I had no idea where to hide in these situations. They confronted him about him doing nothing with his life, and how he was wasting his time, to which he always responded with some smart comment like “I am doing exactly what you raised me to, Father.” And after that he would leave the house, kicking the front door.

I was bothered with all this mainly because of Abbie. Poor Abbie was in the middle of the crossfire and with no way out. She had barely survived the loss of her oldest son, for him only to return years later and make things even worse with his childish behaviour and his stupid neon blue lenses, and his stupid abs. Okay, scratch that last one. I could see Abbie doing her best to please him and make him happy. She cooked his favourite meals, she talked to him like he was a person, opposed to the way the rest of us communicated with him – as if he was some rabid dog which needs to be put down – but all the time he acted like he didn’t give a damn about her. He refused her food, barely answered her questions and methodically tried to avoid looking her in the eyes. His behaviour towards his own mother was a hundred times worse than his exaggerated attempts to hit on me, which he only used to humiliate me when nobody was looking. Yeah, I just couldn’t stand him and I secretly dreamed something bad to happen to him, something involving crocodiles and severe loss of blood and limbs. But unfortunately, one could not come upon a crocodile if one never left home, right?

Tonight when I got back home, it was about three weeks after Mark’s “glamorous” return to his parents’ house, I was extremely tired from work. The Friday night crowd was full-on, everybody taking advantage of the hot September weather and stopping at the diner on their way to the local bar or the town nearby. My uniform got stained with some Bolognese sauce I accidentally spilt on myself, I could barely feel my feet from standing up all day and my hair smelled like cooking oil and artificial sweetener. I was pissed and I was not prepared to deal with stupid Mama’s boys with Daddy issues. But there he was, in my room, snooping through my stuff.

“Dude, what the hell?” I rolled my eyes annoyed and fished my white t-shirt out of his sleazy hands. Mark just theatrically freed the fabric from the grip of his long fingers and didn’t say much when I passed by him into the room, leaving my bag on the floor. “Would you mind” I implored when he didn’t move at all and just stood there by the door, looking at me with his weird blue eyes.

“I do, sweetheart, I really do,” Mark replied and tilted his head to the left, the longer strands of his dark hair falling in front of his eyes, my gaze tracing their way and fixating on the shadows they cast on his stupidly good looking face. Why was the bastard so good looking?

He smiled, suddenly realizing I was looking him over, and his whole expression changed to challenge and cockiness. God, I hated him so deep.

“Tell me, dear, what is your real name after all? Is it Terry, or… Connie? I’d really like to know.” He fixed me with firm eyes, his stance turned deadly and threatening and I could swear real darkness swirled in his gaze.

“Tell me, dear, how come you are still not in jail? I’d really like to know.” I mocked him, rolling my eyes again. I was furious with him, with the way he acted like he owned every damn situation. I felt my cheeks burning and if I could, I would kill him. No one had ever violated my personal space like that, no one, and I somehow felt betrayed. There were things I didn’t want to be stained with his dirty words and his stupid smirks, things too precious to me exactly because they were so scarce.

“Playing smart like always, huh?” Mark pressed, oblivious about my opinion, or feelings, his eyes suddenly throwing daggers at me.

“And you are playing dumb. Or you are dumb, who knows. Just, don’t touch my stuff and get the f**k out of here, will you? I really can’t deal with your s**t right now.”

“What, are going to call Jonny if I don’t? You do seem close to him…”

I stared back. He didn’t say that, did he? I knew, I hoped more correctly, he wasn’t being serious. Because if he was, what he was implying… I shivered with disgust. If he was being serious, he was the most f****d up in the brain person in the entire world, and that meant a lot coming from someone like me. If he was thinking that there could be something between me and his father, under his mother’s roof, with his brother as a witness, then he was not alright at all and he had the emotional maturity of a chimpanzee. I lick my lips, firmly deciding I was not going to take his bait, “Well, unlike you, I do know how to communicate with others. And you clearly have no idea what it is like being out among normal people, so... What? You got in a fight with everyone and now nobody likes you? Is that your problem? Poor Markey.”

In an instant, the bickering turned into something much more. One second Mark was at the door, the next he was inches from me, towering me with his tall frame. He stepped forward, making me instinctively step back, and again until my back hit the window. The whole time his gaze held mine in a compelling trap, making me shiver and twist and turn inside my skin. “Do not assume for even a second you know me, sweetheart.” He hissed with a lowered voice, a low grumble formed in his throat.

“Then do not come into my room and act as you know me.” I shot back with the same tone, barely containing myself from scratching his freak eyes out of their sockets.

He finally stepped back from me. With a few long strides, walking backwards, he was at the door. His eyes never left mine the whole time and for some reason, I refused to look away either.

A new smirk landed on his lips when he searched for the door handle and opened the door. He was about to leave but then turned back to me. “That Adan of yours?” He asked, making the blood drain from my body. “He doesn’t happen to be Adan McGraw, does he now?”