My Little Decoy

♪ It's the Only Plan That I've Got ♪ {32}

"Just enough time to plan an escape route
I put my map on the wall in the basement
Not quite a victory to run from your problems
But it's the only plan that I've got." -Escape Route

"I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift. The baffled king composing Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah." On the last hallelujah, my voice cracked, sending the magic of the music sinking back into the ground where it came from.

Laying sprawled on the kitchen floor, I numbly traced a circle in the dust surrounding me as I continued humming the tune to the solemn song by Jeff Buckley. Early morning light streamed through the broken windows, casting a glow over the floor. I had been awake since the early twilight, waiting for that bit of golden hue to shine over the horizon. It was a symbol of a new day, a symbol that things would get better.

I needed things to get better.

In my back pocket, I felt vibrations stirring my still body, which came from the cell phone tucked safely into its folds. I ignored once it again. The annoying device had been buzzing incessently since yesterday, but I never bothered to pick up. I had only checked the caller ID once, only to find that each missed call and text came from Blake. Guessing that he had heard about the news, I didn't want to drown myself in his pity, so I didn't bother.

There were no messages from Chasing Avenues.

Perhaps the band was over and done with, now that there was nothing to gain. Undoubtedly, the original trio minus me and Xander would stick together and perhaps find a new goal, maybe keep trying to achieve their dreams about becoming a famous rock band one day, touring the world in all their glory. I wouldn't stop them; they deserved it. I didn't.

I would be stuck straggling behind in their dust, much like I am right now. Events from last night cascaded into my thoughts, making me bring shaky hands up to the sides of my head and squeezing hard to block out the thoughts. Marco had been brutal and relentless; though I was numb and couldn't feel the impact during his strikes, by the time it was over and the numbness had faded, I was left in pain on the ground. I stayed on the ground, covered in dust and bruises, until now.

It took much more effort than usual to drag myself off the floor. There was pain everywhere, from my shins to my face, which skyrocketed as I stretched and drew to my full length. Feeling the bones crack in my spine as I took an unsteady step forward, my foot slipped out from underneath and sent me crashing back to the ground.

I emitted a pained groan, finding myself back in the same situation as before. Exhaling deeply, I prepared to hoist myself up again when the slamming of a door made me freeze.

My breath caught in my throat, I turned my head ever so slightly just in time to see Marco exiting his bedroom. He had changed into a ragged grey shirt that clung onto his beer belly, and shorts that looked like a corset squeezing around him. Having not shaved for a few days, his chin was spattered with dots of stubble and his beady amber eyes roamed the apartment. I started to panic because he usually gave me time to recover before another 'session,' and let out a small whimper as he neared.

Instead of raising his fist when he stopped at where I lay, Marco stared down at my broken form with a dead expression. I flinched, unable to meet his gaze. "You look like shit." He noted.

No shit, sherlock. I wanted to scream, to gain back my cold exterior from before. But everything was changing and I had begun to thaw. Instead, I just didn't reply at all.