Bloody Shackles

Chapter 10: The Color Red

This chapter was inspired, not by a song, but by a poem. I can't remember the author, but I like it very much nonetheless. Here it is. 

Red is the color of Longing

Red is the color of Shame

Red is the color of Fury

Red is the color of Blame

Red is the color of Secrets

Red is the color of Few

Red is the color of Failure

Red is the color of You

Ok. Now that we've got the inspiration out of the way, I will now say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Ugh. Life just decided it was time to slap me around for a while, but I am back. I'm finally updating and I know you're as - if not more - happy as I am.  Please vote and comment. Many  apologies for taking so long! But many thanks for being patient and kind while waiting, I am grateful my readers, you guys are amazing. :D

Marcus’s POV

            I don’t understand this. This feeling. This agonizing feeling that I am so unaccustomed to that I am drowning in it, unable to breathe, function, think. It is like when a band is tied too tightly around a wrist, cutting off blood flow, a numbing pain that you don’t realize until it’s too late. Until your hand has turned an ashen blue and is limp and lifeless. I am dulled by it, yet at the same time I am certain that I am suffocating, the air being stolen from my lungs and I am at a loss as how to get it back.

            This is guilt.

            This is confusion.

            This is anger.

            Anger at myself. Anger flows through me because I am unable to dispel this pain that I have self-created. Anger at my own guilt, that I should feel guilty is wrong, for I have done nothing to be guilty of. That’s it. I have done nothing. I have done nothing wrong.

            “What have I done? Ha! I have done nothing wrong! I am Marcus Ishkov, I can do no wrong,” I laughed, mocked, though at who or what I am uncertain. But I still laugh. I still mock. Because I know that I am right. My word is law, and I can do no wrong. I laughed again. Loud, rolling laughter flows from me and I have to clutch my sides from the pain. I laugh at the irony of me, Marcus Ishkov, being wrong. I did nothing out of the ordinary, therefore I did nothing wrong. Confidence is light in my blood, pushing all the toxins of doubt and regret out of the way. I realize that no one could conform against me, and if they did, it would be impossible that they succeed.

            Yet despite my renewed confidence, there was a sickening feeling in my heart, clenching it tight, squeezing it. It was painful to breathe and my mouth felt as dry as the desert sun. My stomach was filled with dread, but there was something else, and it rose in my throat like water in a pipe. Acid and blood.

            With a hand pressed to my mouth, I pushed off the bed and rushed into the adjacent bathroom. Not trusting myself to be able to reach the toilet, a shoved my face in the sink and blood and acid spilled from my mouth. My throat is hot and my mouth sticky. After rinsing the bile and crimson liquid from my mouth, discouragement greeted me as I leaned against the wall. Discouragement, my old friend, I didn’t want to see you so soon, and I am surprised that you have chosen to show yourself here. The uneasiness in my stomach has not settled, nor has my pounding heart quieted. Discouragement, how dare you, you brought along your cousin Guilt, she's unwanted, for I have already dealt with her many times in the last few hours.

            Is this what you cause, Guilt? Is your arrogant persistence so great that you caused my body to react in such a way as to vomit? I want to hate you, I want to despise you, Guilt, because you have caused me so much pain, and yet I can’t. Guilt, you have weighed upon my heart, my mind, and you have caused my blinded eyes to be opened, if only slightly. You have caused me to question myself. Maybe I am wrong? Maybe I really wronged her, my servant girl, my Little One….

            Guilt you push against my soul as roughly as a wave crashing in the ocean. It hurts, but it is enlightening. I know now what I must do. I-I should apologize. I must, I will apologize. But not now. First I will let her rest and recover. When the sun sets again and tomorrow’s night has risen, then I will see her. I will see her and apologize. Once I have done what must be done, maybe then, my Little One will find it within herself to forgive me.

            Not that I deserve her forgiveness.