Wasting a good body

5-Anger is a drug

Mark got out his truck, making sure to immediately hose all the visible blood from the back, he would bleach it later. He wasn't used to the morning light as he washed off his vehicle. As the police were dragging the river for any other remains he was forced to find a dumping spot a state over, he had been driving all night to kill the murderer who had let off a bomb on a school bus. He was on the run from the police but there was no run from Mark.

The man turned off the hose, having in hand the extra food his brought his guests as he made his way inside. The floor of the kitchen had been cleaned and there were no longer an traces of blood. Mark tracked mud from outside onto the clean floor, he didn't care what state it was in he just cared if it looked bad to on the normal person.

He slapped down the various items on the bench and sighed. It had been a long night and was probably going to be a long day. Mark hadn't gotten drunk in over a day and it was taking a toll on him, he was so used to the liquid slowing down his brain and now that it was going fast he didn't like it. He didn't like how his thoughts were able to scream at him every moment of every day. He did understand what they said or what they meant. But they brought back the same memory every time he heard them. The memory of the ones he had lost.

Mark slapped himself out of it, literally, the force from the blow made his face a little red but it soon faded. He picked up the chain and two padlocks that he had picked up from the store, he was sick and tired of adjusting the bounds on Jack every time he moved him. It was tedious and a time waster, had hated wasting things.

The killer made his way to the only bedroom in the house and unlocked the door. He opened it to see that Jack was passed out exactly where he left him. Either his tying abilities were very good or Jack took his threat seriously and didn't try to escape. Mark was okay with either reason.

He didn't even try to wake the sleeping boy when he began to untie him. The rope loosened and let his leg unfold back onto the bed. Mark couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the scars that littered them, each one was deep and thick. He didn't understand how someone could have so much will power to keep hurting themselves in such a manner. Jack must have a strong mind to put up with himself like that.

Mark then realised the boy's wrists from the rope and let them fall to his sides. mark so badly wanted to let the man go without any ties or ropes to hold him back. But he had proved that he couldn't be trusted. Not that Mark blamed him, anyone in their right mind would try to escape.

The chain was going to be fastened around Jack's right ankle, the cloth from his mouth was removed, all without him waking up. It was tied where the chain would go so that it wouldn't damage the skin and leave more scars, that was the last thing that he needed. The lock was clicked closed around the chain that now contained his right ankle, Mark hoped that it wasn't to uncomfortable.

" Jack" Mark called softly to the sleeping man.

He didn't wake or budge where he slept, he must be a deep sleeper, either that or something had gone wrong in the night and he couldn't wake up. Mark's heart leapt at the possibility, he didn't mean to hurt the boy.

His hands reached down to touch his neck, trying to feel a pulse and thankfully a strong one pumped in a steady rhythm. It was okay and alive, but wasn't waking up.

"Jack!" Mark shouted.

Jack jumped up in bed, scrambling away from the noise that had startled him. When he foot pulled against his wishes he looked up to see a chain wrapped around it with Mark holding the other end. His fear died down slightly as he saw that it wasn't anything that he didn't already know.

" Come on, we're having breakfast" Mark said flatly.

Jack swallowed his fear and nodded, letting the chain lead his actions. He was lead back out into the kitchen where he was physically sat down in the only seat, a metal one. He watched as Mark locked the other end of the chain to the table that was bolted to the floor.