Boy's Night [boyxboy]

Chapter fifteen

Chapter Fifteen:

I can't seem to think straight since the occurrence with Marshall. He said he was going to kill me. Why? What did I ever do to him? But then I remembered why he was acting so out of it. He laughed like an insane person and screamed as if he were on fire. Either it has to be about the Litch or it's actually taking a big toll on him from Simone's brutal death.

I wouldn't blame him, even after all the things she's done to me in the past I still can't bring myself to hate someone. She was like a person who you can't seem to make go away cause they annoy the crap out of you, but you seem to find a way to be fri-ememys. It was a love-hate relationship.

After she was murdered, I never stopped crying for weeks at a time. Since a month has passed already, it feels as if our love-hate relationship that was placed in my heart was replaced by a gaping hole that was still trying to heal. And now another hole has joined it causing the pain to be ever so painful as ever. Only because of Marshall, is why I'm in pain.

"I promise, to the end of my life I will never hurt you. I love you, Gummy."

That's exactly what he told me before he left and never returned until now. Since then, I've never been so distracted from my work, that I felt myself slowly break apart. And in those distracting moments, I never forgot those words and wondered if they were actually true. It seems my statements were true.

A week has passed since Marshall came back. I'd go see him every so often down in the dungeon with guards by either side of me. He looked so pitiful, chained by the wrist on the wall. All he had on was his black skinny, which were ripped from the aggression he'd use every time he took to grab my neck. His Converse- not so much called shoes anymore. On one, the sole was torn off and the other was ripped and the sole falling apart. His greasy hair hangs ever so slightly over his illuminating red eyes, which intimidates me.

I would say he looks fine as hell; his well-defined chest is shining in the dim fire-lit room making shadows on his chest. But.. Unfortunately, I can't touch him with the fear of him tearing my head from my shoulders. Everyone and then I'd make sure he'd eat, which he did. He wouldn't let anyone give him a bath so at least he'd eat, but very little.

Sometimes I wished he never had gone; it's all my fault.