Out of Focus #SYTYCW15 Top10 Finalist! [COMPLETED]

15| So it begins

The cold kiss of steel. The burning bite of the blade scoring across his skin. So hot and cold all at once. Screams. Blood curdling screams. Thrashing bodies dragged through torrents of rain and mud, leaving a murky trail of red in their wake. The terrible, hollow ache in his guts as he watched helpless and terrified.

"He's just a kid," the words are wrenched from his throat with desperate fervour. "Just a fucking kid. Take me. Take me!"

Waking from the nightmare wasn't the shocking sort of jolt one would have expected. Rather it happened in increments. Slowly. Torturously. Until the haunting echoes of the past became a viscous blend with the present. The smell of smoke and blood so thick in his lungs he could hardly breathe.

And then the ache reared to slap him straight. Whimpering, standing over him, LeBron stroked a wet tongue over his face. Large, dark eyes shining with concern. The air stank of sweat and old ghosts. Rolling to his side, Marshall's belly clenched and emptied in a nauseating wave of bile and last night's lasagne. Nuzzling a nose under his arm, LeBron curled his body against Marshall and held there. A blanket of warmth to soak up all the madness storming inside of him.

"Jesus," he croaked. He'd fallen asleep on his bad arm again, and as a result the pain had short-circuited his dreams, ripping him back to that that rain soaked night.

Right shoulder throbbing in time with his galloping heart, he thumbed through the nightstand drawer for the half-finished bottle of Aleeve. Chasing the painkillers with a couple Paxil, he swallowed the pharmaceutical cocktail with a swig from the bottle of water he kept by the bed, and sighed.

It was the ass end of five in the morning. And knowing himself well enough to gather he wasn't going to get back to sleep, Marshall rose from bed and set on the coffeemaker.

Showering off the stink of a cold sweat, Marshall dressed for casual comfort in beach shorts and a sleeveless tank. Feeling better, revitalized from the shower and soothed by the meds, he set his sights on filling the hole in his belly. LeBron kept close, following his every step like a second shadow.

"Don't worry about me, I'm okay," he said, taking a knee and gathering LeBron in his arms for a rough, bracing hug. "How about bacon for breakfast?"

Taking the tongue lolling grin for a yes, he turned his thoughts on food, and lost himself in the simple task of cooking, humming along to Kings of Leon as salty porky goodness splattered in fat and oil.

When the food was done, setting a side half the rasher to cool for LeBron, he tucked himself at the table with a large steaming mug of Kenyan black and booted up his laptop.

As the screen cleared, on a whim, he opened up the last document he'd marked 'Insanity'. His eyes raced over the words of the last page and before he knew it, founds his fingers flying. For the next hour he poured himself into those string of words. Not thinking, just typing. Purging.

Only when LeBron barked at the sound of his ringing phone did Marshall realize he'd emptied himself into another eighteen pages. Clicking save, he moved from the table and caught the phone a ring away from bouncing into voicemail.

"Well, look who's still alive," Dee said. "Did you forget about our call?"

"Sorry," Marshall apologized, swiping a hand through his hair. "Got in the zone and lost track of time."

"Tell me you got something for me," she sighed, the clack of her fingers on keys falling silent. "You're behind schedule and interest is beginning to flag."

"Actually, I do have something for you. A collaboration." Danni fell silent as he worked through the conversation he had with Eva, highlighting the core concept and his thoughts on the overall tone he wanted to take.