Manifest Darkness (Sequel to Darkness Within)

Chapter 13- Bruises and Blood

Sean-

I stand there, watching as Mark's body falls to the floor. Almost instantly, I feel all the anger wash away from me, replaced with fear and regret. What had I done? I kneel down next to Mark, checking his pulse, seeing if he's breathing. He has to be okay. He has to.

His pulse is slow, and that's not at all reassuring. His breathing was very shallow, chest barely rising. The blood had stopped flowing from his nose, and a bruise was beginning to form on his jaw.

One of my hands goes to my pocket where my phone was, the other just hovering above Mark's choice. What do I do? CPR? Call the ambulance? I had no idea, and panic was making it hard to think clearly, rationally. Then, another thought strikes me- if anyone finds out what actually happened, I could be arrested. But, even after what he did, I'd take jail any day over something bad happening to him. Nervous, I called the police.

The entire call, my voice is shaking, nearly as bad as my hands are. The operator's reassurances do nothing to ease my nerves. With the promise that they'd be here soon, I hang up. Staring at Mark, it suddenly hits me- I wouldn't be the one arrested- Mark would. No matter what story I spin, one of us will be in trouble with the law, and the bruises on his face and marks on my neck wouldn't help matters.

I swallow harshly, looking down at my hands. There's blood all over my fingers and palms, and it's starting to dry. My knuckles are bruised from the contact with Mark's jaw, the hideous purple marks an ugly contrast to the deep red crimson that stains my hands. I get up, looking around nervously before dashing to the bathroom.

Staring in the mirror, I examine my neck, the harsh red marks which would surely be bruising. It hurts to swallow. I scrub my hands with hot water and soap, hissing at the boiling temperature. Scrubbing the blood from the creases in my knuckles, I realized that we'd hurt each other. Actually hurt each other. Physically. Despite the scalding water, I shiver.

After I finish cleaning myself, I rub at the marks on my pale neck. "Would Mark really do this?" I ask the reflection in the mirror. I scurry out of the bathroom, contemplating my question. The Mark that I've always known is a bundle of joy and honesty, compassion, humility...things like that. He always seemed to understand when someone was having a hard time, and always wanted to help, however he could...so why not now?

I mean, that couldn't have been Mark, could it? He had originally seemed to come in with good intentions. It looked like he had been fighting with himself.

I quickly walk into the room where Mark is to find Chica by his side, giving small pathetic barks. When she sees me, she runs over, jumping on my chest, whining. My eyes widened when I saw Mark. He hadn't moved an inch.

He looked dead.