Chasing Anne

Back to You

Mark groaned inwardly as his alarm buzzed off. Why did he even have an alarm if he hated it? He sighed and rolled over to face the black alarm clock. Its red digital screen flashed as the buzzer beeped over and over again. 7:30 rushed into his eyes, and while it wasn't extremely early for him, it was early enough to make him cranky. That is, crankier than he already was. Since his fight with Jackson...well things hadn't exactly been going his way. He'd been discharged from the hospital the day before, but the freedom he now had didn't elate him in any way. His arm was still in a thick white cast, restraining not only his movement, but his search for Anne. Mark sighed and sat up in bed, slapping the alarm off with his good hand and then rubbing his face. He was stuck like this for the next month at least, and during that time, he could do nothing in pursuit of Anne. In fact, he wasn't really supposed to leave his house. Dr. McCourtney had been clear when he'd said, 'stay off of Parr's radar. You don't need to get yourself killed,' but Mark didn't like this new arrangement in the slightest. He slid his feet off the bed and with a single push from his good arm, he hoisted himself to a standing position, momentarily getting dizzy. He shook it off and scratched his head. What was the point of all this? He'd been doing what was right, hadn't he? All he wanted was Anne back home. How could he have been stupid enough to just let her go like he had? Had he not taken her into Raymond's territory, Bartholomew never would have died, Jackson wouldn't be upset with him, his arm wouldn't be broken, and Anne... Mark felt tears press at his eyes. Anne would be safe. Mark felt the sudden urge to collapse. He knew if he did, he it wouldn't be easy to get up again, but the weight of all that had happened in just the past month crashed down on his back and he suddenly felt as if the world sat on his shoulders. He grabbed his desk chair with his good arm, supporting himself against the fall he felt coming. Nonetheless, his whole body seemed to go weak and he slumped to his knees, his head dropping into the palm of his good hand.

Mr. McCourtney's death, Dawn's surgery, Anne's disappearance, Raymond's attacks... what was going on that could possibly cause so much trouble? Was Raymond behind Anne's father's death too? What on earth had made a man that had been so...normal, so...evil? What had caused all of this? Mark wanted to know so badly, but his only attempt at finding out the truth had ended in a crossfire between Bartholomew and some rampant shooter. This whole entire mission seemed hopeless. Mark had contacted the police, but their investigation had proved just as fruitless as his was. Everything tracked back to Parr Manor, but no one dared go near that building. Everyone who'd gone to Parr Manor in the last ten years had either been confirmed dead, or never seen again. It made Mark shiver. Anne was in that building...if she was still alive.

Mark forced himself to his feet as his stomach growled at him. He needed to eat. Thinking on an empty stomach was always a bad idea. He walked to the door and opened it, walking out into the hall. A bright blue sling lay on his kitchen counter where Mark had left it the night before. He slung it around his neck and then rested his injured arm inside of it, finding a little relief in it, though his physical discomfort was the least of his concerns. He pulled out a box of cereal from the cupboard along with a bowl and set them down on the counter. He then pulled a spoon out of a drawer and milk out of the fridge, preparing his simple meal. He spooned a scoop of the cereal into his mouth, but just before he was about to take a bite, he heard a grumble and a whine. He looked up as two furry tails appeared at the other end of the table. One black, one gold, and both wagging. He smiled and set his spoon back down so he could greet his two dogs. Dawn laid her head in his lap, giving her sweet begging eyes, and Blaze simply panted gleefully, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. Mark ruffled the fur on Dawn's head and then stood, walking over to the kitchen sink. He opened the cupboard below the sink and to the dogs' great delight, pulled out a large bag of dog food. Dawn was instantly at his side, her tail thumping wildly as it wagged back and forth violently. Blaze trotted over with his bowl in his mouth, promptly laying the silver dish at his master's feet. Mark smiled and then poured a good deal of food into the bowl. Blaze and Dawn attacked it as soon as the first kernel made a clank into the bowl and soon were both happily eating. Mark sighed and shook his head, returning to the table where his now soggy bowl of cereal sat waiting for him. He sat back down in his chair and began to eat the mushy food, not too worried about the texture or the taste. When he finished, he stood, took his bowl over to the sink with his spoon, and washed them off before setting them in the dishwasher. It was quiet. Too quiet almost. He took another deep breath and then walked over to the calendar. It was now well into May and judging by the looks of the outdoors, there was not going to be any more snow coming their way. Soon it would be June...and so on. It was Sunday and as he looked over the week ahead of him, his heart both jumped and sank. He had absolutely nothing on his schedule this week. True, someone could call him asking for help, but his next project didn't start until the following week which was the first week of June. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This was going to be one of the worst weeks of his life. There was nothing to do and not being able to search for Anne was going to drive him crazy.