marked.

The On-Going Battle

I left "Sam" hanging there as I went to school. I guess I rubbed off on her, because she wants to "see me around more often." How does a tattooed, former New Yorker catch the attention of a Sunkiss Californian?

I quickened my pace as the school came into view. Ahead of me, I could see Marco waiting silently and patiently nearby the steps. But of course, my happiness had to end shortly.

"Hey bitch." A tall, blonde young man said, only about two feet away from me. Of course, it had to be Travis. He just never knows when to stop. Never. 

"Hey Jerk. How's the life of a Sunkiss going for ya?" I asked sarcastically. I could practically hear his footsteps quicken as he stepped in front of me, blocking my way. I rolled my eyes and moved to the side, but he just stepped in front of me. He kept trying to block me, as if he was getting ready to start something.

"Hold on, little Inky. Where are you going?" He spoke with a light voice, the way that you would talk to a child. I may be little, but that doesn't stop me from doing dangerous things.

I try to play along with his games, but already it was getting old. My heart began to race faster, and it was not because I was scared... I was ready to do something."Get out of my way Travis."

He dug his thick index finger into my shoulder and gave me a little shove. "Or what, alien?" 

For it being about seventy-five degrees, I was heated. The second the shove pushed me back a step, I lunged my body toward him. For him being 6'4, I found it a shame that a girl like me being 5'3 could beat his ass so quick. He tried to right hook me in the face, but I dodged it in time for my own fist to clash into his jaw. He retracted a little, but tried to come back at me with full force. I felt his arms grab me and throw me to the ground, along with him on top of me. All I felt for a slight moment was pure pain, as if a knife was being dragged down my spine. He held me down, trying to get a good punch at me. He did at first, for I felt a few stingy shots of pain in my arm and twice oon my face. But the minute the last punch started to come down, I rolled over; his whole left hand clashed ruthlessly against pure concrete, but I guess the concrete won the battle. You could practically hear his knuckles breaking, and Travis's yelp was louder than ever. But still, he came after me. He tried to crawl his way over to me but as he was about to reach me, suddenly his whole body lunged the other way onto the floor again. Someone else was now beating on him. And to my rescue, it was him.

Marco.

Rage contaminated his eyes as he continuously punched Travis in all places. I could imagine all the pain Travis was now rightfully paying; his ribs, face and arms were to take Marco's hits the most. Travis had managed to get out of Marco's grasp, but it only made the fight worse. They rolled over a couple times, trying to get control of the fight. My head had hurt so bad I practically forced myself to keep my vision in line. I was still on the floor, just a couple feet away from the on-going ruckus. People were now starting to form a circle around us, so I forced my body up to a crouch. When my vision wasn't as blurry, I saw that Marco had gained control again. He was on top of Travis, still punching. 

I have to stop this, I told my self.

You can do it.

Get up... GET up... GET UP.

The next thing I knew, I was on top of Marco, struggling to pull him away from Travis. It was hard to get a good grip on him, for he was sweating and moving uncontrollably. My head began to pound harder than a drum, but I took every last speck of energy I had, grabbed him by his waist and shoulder, and threw him off of Travis. He went rolling over right next to me, and Travis just lay there, coughing up blood. Marco was about to get back up, but then he looked at me. He stopped in his tracks, and took a low breath. I sat on my feet and slouched heavily. I was out of breath, and my whole body throbbed. All of Travis's friends scrambled over to him and helped him up. When I got a good look at him, I noticed how busted up he was; his nose looked broken, his left eye starting to swell, bleeding face, red patches and growing bruises... Me and Marco really messed him up. Well, 90% of that damage all belonged to Marco.

I couldn't get up on my own, I couldn't really feel my legs so much. I felt Marco's hand quickly wrap around my waist and pull me up. I glanced at him as he bent over to grab my book bag and start walking. It's funny how, the minute Travis's posse came and picked him up, everyone left. I guess people really do hate the tatted girl... Me.

Marco helped me walk towards the far back of the school to the hidden staircase. He sorta carried me up, only when I couldn't take a step, he gave me a lift. We were both heaving, but he led me into an abandoned hallway and into the girl's bathroom. Of course, any stupid, snobby girl would only care about him going into the ladies room, but right now, I could care less. Without him, I would not be walking right now. Possibly not even alive.

I felt both of his hands on my waist now, and he sat me on top of the counter. He turned on the faucet, grabbing numerous amounts of paper towels, drenching it with cool water. My eyesight was no longer blurry, and my headache felt numb... As did my whole body. He stood quiet as he folded wet pieces of paper and lightly pressed it against my left temple. Had I got hurt there? Just by looking from the corner of my eye, I realized I was bleeding.

"Here," he said vaguely. "Hold this." I took the damp paper towel and pressed it against my temple. Worst mistake of my life. All I felt was a cool sting, the fragile part of my head crying because of the coldness.

I watched as Marco washed his face, as if it were nothing. Ok his cheek and below his eye were now clean injuries, for they were caked in blood just five minutes ago. When he was done, he took a step towards me and held the damp towel for me, trying to clean the blood. For some reason, I felt the need to put my hand over his, so I did. He stopped for a minute, looking at me, I guess trying to figure me out. I took his hand, put the blood-soaked paper towel down and observed his hand. I saw his knuckles were caked in dry blood, and his left hand had already started to swell up. His eyes just followed mine, and I took my messed up fingers and raced over his injured hands.

I looked up at him, and his eyes looked at me. "You didn't have to do that." I whispered.

He only kept staring into my eyes, as if searching for something. What does he want to know? I wondered. "I did though. And I don't regret it," he spoke in a quiet tone, but for some reason, it calmed me.

"You took a beating for me... And beat him up too." I looked at him, frustrated. "Why? Why you risk hurting yourself for me?" Although the backs of his hands are tattooed, you still see the growing bruises on his knuckles.

And through all this, his face was really close to mine, and he smiled. "I'm surprised you haven't realized yet."

I looked at him with a puzzled look. My bruised eyebrow slowly raised itself, "Realized what?" I half whispered, half asked.

He says nothing. But when I glanced down, then looked back at his glowing eyes, I felt his lips press against mine. And my heart dropped.