MARKED

CHAPTER FOUR

Where the sod am I?

I woke up confused.  Rather than waking in my oh-so-comfortable hotel room bed with a mattress obviously made of gravel rather than springs and stuffing, I woke up on the bathroom floor.  I blinked, looking around.  There were drips of dried blood on the ground.  There was a basket on the floor, some handtowels were on the ground...

I rubbed my face.  And then I remembered.  How the sod had I forgotten in the first place?

Pulling my hands away from my face to look at them, slightly blood soaked towels were still wrapped securely in place.  Carefully I peeled one of them off; the four crescent shaped cuts seemed to have scabbed over, yet there was dry blood on my palms as well as on the towels.

I got to my feet, leaning against the wall for support.  I moved towards the mirror, staring at my reflection.  I looked like a mess - black powder withdrawals were affecting me physically in more ways than one.

Blinking hard while rubbing my eyes with the back of my right hand, I gripped the doorframe in my left hand and exited the bathroom.  My head lolled tiredly to the right; the seven blooming vials of powder still standing on the dresser had of course caught my eye...  But, still dressed in the clothing I had worn yesterday, I pushed myself right past the dresser and out of the hotel room door.  

Standing in the empty hallway I was caught unawares by a sodding de-ja-vu.  I turned down the hallway and began to walk towards the lift, the skin on the back of my neck prickling uncomfortably with gooseflesh.  I jammed my thumb into the 'down' button, and when the doors opened I stepped inside as quickly as I could.  

The doors shut.

I hit the lobby button, and down I went.  

When the doors opened, I was both relieved to escape the noise they called music in the lift, and also to see that there were in fact other people in the ruddy hotel.  I drifted tiredly towards the area where a small continental breakfast was being served.  There I helped myself.

Ignoring as best as I could the stares towards my blood and grime speckled shirt, I sat down alone at a table and began to wolf down my food.  I was perfectly happy to fill my stomach with something other than black powder.

***

I didn't go to work that morning.  

After eating I had returned to my room to take a shower and change into clean clothing.  The worse half of me convinced the better that they probably didn't need my sodding help to push pianos around a store.

I was sure that they could manage excellently on my own.  They didn't need the janitor-assistant-clerk there to sit around and watch them chat.  They didn't need me there.

Hands pocketed snugly in my hoodie's pockets, I walked down the right side of a busy road, my left hand clenched around the single vial of powder I had brought with me, and my right around a small metal ring.

  I needed something.

Adrenaline.

I needed an adrenaline rush.  Something that would pull me out of this ditch.  Something so brilliantly exciting and incredible that it would blow me out of this rut.

My twitchy fingers fondled the vial.  The thin glass.  The heavy cork.  The powder inside... Waiting to be used.  Waiting to be deactivated or activated.

Darkly my gaze shifted from the sidewalk directly in front of me to the closest building on my right.  Elegant black letters above the entryway read "Mr. P's Photography and Print-Shop".  

This would be it.

I turned to the right, walked into the parking lot of the building, and stepped briskly up onto the curb.  Pushed the swinging glass door open.  

The interior was small - surprisingly it seemed to be smaller than it looked from the outside.  There were only three or so people that I could clearly see walking the aisles, examining wooden picture frames and different photo options.  A young couple - seemingly newlyweds - were getting their photos taken in a corner in front of a backdrop of a large grassy green area.  Two staff members were working the front desk, but they weren't doing much but talking.  Another worker adjusting a knob on a piece of heavy machinery farther back behind the desk.  

Someone approached me.  "Hello sir, can I help you?"  He sounded far away, though they stood right in front of me.

"I'm... I'm fine, thanks anyways, mate."  I muttered in annoyance, and rubbed my eyes, turning away from him to move farther into the shop.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"  The man asked, surprisingly to me he actually sounded sincerely worried.

As I blinked hard, I removed my hand from my face and turned to look the employee in the eye.  "...D'you think... Where's your drinking fountain?"

He nodded, his brow creased in worry as he stared down at me.  "It's right over there."  He pointed me towards the area where the newlyweds were taking photos.  I smiled and nodded stiffly at him, thanking him in a half-polite, half-annoyed manner for his help.

I neared the drinking fountain, shooting nervous glances towards the happy duo and their photographer.  Bending over, I pressed the front crash bar inwards, a stream of cool water shot out of the faucet and into my mouth.  I swallowed the liquid down, and turned my attention to the things around me.

A whole bunch of manilla envelopes in a box on a short shelf near the drinking fountain caught my eye.  I was positive that the couple wouldn't notice if I took one- they were far too caught up in being happy to pay any mind to what I was doing.

I picked one of the envelopes up, stared at it for a moment and then looked for something sharp...  Luckily enough I was in a store; a package of unused scissors sat on a shelf not too far away.  Grabbing one, I tore the cardboard backing off and removed the pair of scissors from it's package.  This was far too easy for me.  

Using the scissors, I slit the bottom edge of the envelope open, trying to make the cut as concealed as possible...  Unluckily for me, I'd never been good at cutting paper.  It was rough, but hardly noticeable.

My naturally shaking fingers removed the vial from my hoodie pocket.

I placed the vial inside of the envelope,closing the top while trying to keep it horizontal so that the vial would not roll out from either opening while I still held it in my hands.

Still clutching the envelope in my hands, I walked up to the front desk, discreetly placed the envelope down on the counter in a place where there currently weren't any workers.  I walked over to the two employees in conversation.  

The woman grinned at me.  "Hi.  Can I help you?"  Her voice was high and girlish.

I pulled the metal ring from my pocket, handing it to her as the fluid lie flew from my lips.  "I found this on the counter over there," I pointed farther down the counter, where the manilla folder lay in wait.  "Would it happen to be yours?" 

She took it from me, examining it.  "Uh... No, it's not mine."  She showed it to the man sitting next to her.  He shook his head slowly.

The woman held it out to me.  "Sorry, it's not either of ours.  You can keep it if you want, though."  

I chuckled darkly and shook my head.  "No thanks.  You keep it.  I'm not a man of jewlery, myself."  

She shrugged, staring at the metal band for a moment before sliding it onto the ring finger of her right hand.  

I couldn't shake the weird feeling that crept over me as I watched her mark herself for death.

My feet carried me out of the building, across the parking lot, and down the street again.  When someone picked up the envelope, the vial of explosive powder would fall out of the bottom and crack on either the floor or the counter.  It would probably be happening soon enough...  I couldn't risk being anywhere near the small shop when it happened.