Dead Man Walking (Glanny Fic)

Chapter 8

You remember those films about prisons? And those rooms that they let the prisoners talk to friends and family in? The ones with bulletproof glass separating the two and a phone to communicate. Yeah. That is essentially what I've just walked into.

I don't understand. I turn to look at Madison, who in turn nods at the seat. Bidding me to take my place and wait. I suppose I don't have a choice...

Whilst I wait, I can feel my fingers move on their on accord. It may not be my thumping, but I know it's because I'm getting aggravated. Maybe I should have told them that I wasn't okay. This was probably a really bad idea. But it's too late. I can't take it back now.

The door opens and my eyes dart to see who is about to enter. It could be the police for all I know. I'm pretty sure I've taken it too far, they've had enough of me, and I'm being transferred...

Mark. Mark is the one that steps through that door. That was the one person I did not expect to see.

He takes a seat behind the glass, never taking his eyes from mine. He has that serious look in his eye. That's never good. He doesn't even look away as he picks up the phone. I put my ear on the receiver, bracing for the worst.

“He told me everything.”

Straight to the point. Mark never really beats around the bush. One of the things I used to value him for the most. But right now...right now, I'm not sure my fragile state can cope.

“Mark, I...”

“I'm not going to ask you about it. It's not my place. That's between you and him. But what I am going to tell you is that you need to get your act together. I'm done with this. I really am. You have no idea what you're doing to us. To Glen. My God, Dan...”

“Is he okay?”

I can barely stand the expression that crosses Mark's face. Disbelief mixed with anger. He's never looked at me like this before.

“Of course he isn't. He's a fucking wreck. I'm seriously worried for his health, man. One minute he's angry, the next he's sobbing in my arms. And you have the nerve to ask me if he's okay?”

“I didn't mean...”

“You never fucking mean it, Danny!” he yells. “Every time you do something like this, you say the same fucking thing! I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing the same excuse all the fucking time!”

“I don't know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to get better! I want you turn to me and Glen with that stupid fucking grin of yours, grab a guitar and be the person that we know and love! We came all the way here today...”

“We?” As the word leaves my lips, I see the colour drain from his face. “What d'you mean 'we'?”

“I meant I,” he says quickly. “I came all this way...”

“No, you said 'we'. Who else is here?”

“No one.”

“Glen? Is Glen here?”

“No.” I hear the lie in his voice. I can always tell when he's lying.

“He's here! Glen's here!”

I'm out my seat and pushing myself against the glass quicker than Mark can respond. I see his mouth moving, but I've dropped the phone. He isn't important any more. Glen is here. He's here. And I need to see him.

Over and over I scream his name, even though I know he can't hear me. I pound against the god forsaken barrier between me and the man I love, desperation overtaking me.