Fallen For My Kidnapper (COMPLETED)

Chapter 19 - My Peace

I rolled over to see that it was 3:30 in the morning. There was another hour of sleep that I could get, but I had retired to my room so quickly last night that I didn't see much of a point in waiting. I threw my hair in a pony tail as I walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. Seeking out the pad of paper and a pen that I knew was there from the endless times I helped put together the dinner menu with Marissa, I wrote a quick note to Marcus.

Couldn't sleep. Already downstairs ~R

I walked down the stairs and to the punching bag that was hanging to the left. I didn't even glance in the direction that the fake cell was set up in; I didn't want to think about any of that. Instead, I opened the bag of extra boxing gloves that I had noticed the first day and taped my own hands. I'll admit, it was more difficult, and by the end of it my teeth hurt from pulling the tape and ripping it, and then closing the gloves around my wrists, but it was all worth it. 

I punched the bag, ignoring how painful my right hand was from Marcus's and my encounter with the man a couple of days ago. I thought about how angry I was at my father for what he did to me. He had left me when he knew that my mother and his wife wouldn't take care of me. I thought about how angry I was at the Newmans for their treatment of me. I heard him say that he wanted to put me with the other girls. I knew there was nothing that I could do for them, but it didn't help me to stop being frustrated about it. 

I thought about how angry I was at the Theins as well. They had been nothing but nice to me since I got here, but that was because I was staying here. I knew that if I left they would hunt me down. Marissa even told me that her husband would choose my father over her. If I dared to leave, I knew there would either be a bullet in my calf so they could drag me back or a bullet in my brain so my father had no more weakness left. 

I punched the bag repeatedly, not caring if I was doing it correctly, but just needing to get the anger out. I punched until my hands hurt, and then I punched some more. 

"Here," Marcus's low voice was right next to my ear, and his hands appeared on either side of my waist. I jumped, only moving closer to him in doing so. "Keep your core tight, and push with your hips." 

I threw another punch, and Marcus pushed my right hip forward when I did. I could feel the difference of power behind it as my hand made contact with the bag. I was breathless for a second, from his hands on me and from the shock of how bad I had been hitting for the past hour. 

"Thanks," I said quietly. Marcus's hands spun me around, and my back was against the bag as he was right in front of me. Suddenly, I was aware of the sweat that clung to my face and to the strands of hair that had fallen out of the pony tail. 

We looked at each other, and for the first time, I didn't see a hint of anger behind his eyes. I saw him: scared and vulnerable. I waited for him, waited for him to say what I could already see in his tense shoulders and bowed head, but his words never came. I thought back to everything that Marissa had told me, everything that I knew about what Leila had done to him. 

Marcus didn't trust anyone. He didn't put his faith into anyone because the last time he had given himself, he had given himself entirely, and when Leila was forced out, so was every last part of him that knew how to trust. 

It also didn't help that he grew up in a gang. 

"I know why you can't do it," I said gently. "I need you to say it so that you admit it to yourself that you feel again." His breathing was becoming labored and hard, and he rested his head against mine. I slipped my gloves off quickly and decided not to care about the tape around my knuckles. I traced a small portion of his jaw with my right hand, "I'm not her, Marcus."

We stood there, me waiting as he breathed and him struggling to overcome the walls he had set in place to protect himself from heart ache. 

"Tell my why," I said again. He looked at me, his eyes full of sadness as they engulfed my own. 

"Because..." I held my breath. "because you're my peace." I frowned, not entirely understand what he meant, but knowing that to him his words were him admitting to not only me but himself that his days of shutting everyone out were over. "Please, Rosie, I can't hurt you."

I put both of my hands on either side of his face, giving him a smile, "You don't have to," I told him. He looked at me with confusion. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. 

 "I asked your mother to use makeup." I thought back to the conversation I had last night with Marissa when I had met her in the hall. She was so exited that she had run to go tell her husband. I was scared that it would make me look less like I would do anything for my father, but I only cared about Marcus at this point, and I knew it would ruin him. 

Marcus lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I barely thought about the bullet wound in his shoulder as his lips met mine. He separated my mouth with his tongue, but took it away just as soon as he did. I kissed him back with a need that I hadn't felt before. I needed to be as close as possible to him, in any way that I could. 

Marcus pulled away and rested his head against mine again, putting me back on my feet. I held onto him; I had no faith in my shaky knees. 

"I'm sorry for everything I said and did to you. For your ribs-"

"-it's alright. It's all in the past now."

"Have you eaten?" he asked me. I shook my head no, and he grabbed my hand and walked me up the stairs, brining us to the kitchen where he made me sit down at the breakfast bar. 

"It's not even five in the morning, what are you going to make me?" I asked. I expected something like cereal, but he grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge, milk, peppers, cheese, and tomatoes. There was no way that he was a cook. 

The only answer he gave me was a wink as he began to throw some ingredients in a bowl and turned the stove on. I sat there, happy as I watched him putter around without the constant scowl I had known him for. 

I couldn't decided if I had done a favor for Marissa, or if Marissa had done one for me...

N/A  Another chapter :) Before we get into the comments, I just wanna tell you about the fact that my AP Lit teacher is making us read Shakespear's Hamlet at the same time as reading Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray. Like what? First of all, pretty sure the entire book is about a gay love triangle. Also, fun fact, did you know that Oscar Wilde was convicted of being gay (indecency) and made to do two years of hard labor. Really shows how far this world has come in less than 200 years. It makes me so happy to know that. 

It does not make me happy however to be reading Hamlet, especially when she chose me to read as Hamlet because I did his recitation Freshman year and can read Shakespearian decently well. ANYways...

What do we think about everything that is weighing on Roseilin's mind? What do we think about Marcus and this new soft side?

Hope you are having a great day. Love you guys :)