Ode to Remedy

Act X

Markus forced his eyes open, the weight of pain felt as if it suddenly crashed in his head. The aching in his skull ebbed and flowed like a cold tide. He curled the duvet through his fingers over and over again, waves of nausea adding to his misery. His phone's screen glew on the floor, illuminating the dark corner of the room with message after message. He squinted from his pillow, but couldn't make out the contact responsible. He bit his lip and quickly sat up, pressing his palms to his forehead, hissing slightly at the gnawing in his brain. Through strained eyes, he glanced around the messy room, covers were strewn onto the floor and his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. 

His clothes.

Everything came back to him so suddenly; it only worsened the ache in his body. With his movement, the telltale clink of bottles that lay at the foot of the bed roused Ocean, who lay close to his right. He bit the inside of his lip harder as she shifted onto her side and let out a soft breath, indicating that she had not yet awoken. Letting out a silent, relieved sigh, he slipped out from under the comforter and crept across the floor. He retrieved his clothes and dressed himself, wrinkling his nose at the smell of Ocean's perfume lingering in the fabric.
He froze just before he pushed his arms through the sleeves of the letterman; for it wasn't his letterman. Markus turned it around and ran his thumb over the embroidered lettering on the bicep, reading its name over and over in his numbed head. The guilt that had begun to accelerate inside of him once his mind began to comprehend his sins was like gasoline in his guts. His innards died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze. He only held the jacket in his arm, despite the shaft that chilled him after retreating from the swallowing covers of the bed. He felt shame in even thinking about cladding it, so he tied it around his waist.

Markus hurried to his phone on the floor, only to feel disappointed when none of the messages he'd received were from Valentine. Most of them were drunkenly sent from hours before from none other than Primrose. He could only tell because of the small rose petal emoticon next to her contact name.

'Are you alright, Marky??' was the most recent from her. Markus automatically supposed that was Carmine sending from Primrose's phone, for he was the only one to ever refer to him as 'Marky'. He frowned. Didn't he tell Carmine to stop calling him that? He shook his head, as he had more important things to address.

Markus slipped his shoes on and reached for the doorknob, only to hesitate. What was one to do after their drink had been laced with contaminants and raped? Simply escape? He lowered his hand and shot a solemn look after his shoulder at Ocean's slumbering body. Her bare chest rose and fell softly with easy breaths, as if the previous night's events had never occurred. Would he even call it rape? He looked to the floor guiltily. Why was he guilty? She was completely responsible of rape. Though she looked so innocent in her sleep, her full lips were positioned in a sort of pout and her piercing eyes were shielded by her lightly stained eyelids, her body was curled in a way as though she longed to be held.

Markus grimaced and spun around. If he spoke of this night, would people even believe him or would they take her side? Markus refused to care, he only wished dearly that Valentine would believe him. So why the hell was he hesitating? He cracked open the door softly at last and squeezed through, stepping so lightly in attempt to be as silent as he could. So escape he shall.

He crept down the stairs with a hand securely placed on the stairwell. His head still spun, and the last thing he would want to do is trip down the spiral staircase littered with solo cups and burnt cigars and break his nose. Markus hurried towards the door, before slowing to observe the house around him. It looked like a completely different building from how it did last night. Rays of early morning sunlight shone its way through the cracks in the windows shielded with slightly tattered curtains. The hardwood floor was bestrewn with garbage and stained with what he wished was only drinks. Bottles and cups and shot glasses were to be seen on every surface, some turned on their sides to yield pools of whatever liquid they contained, lacing the air with the bitter scent. He stopped to stare at some unconscious body slumbering rather loudly on the stained sofa. A line of drool trickled from the corner of his lip. Markus glowered, contemplating waking him up for a mere moment, before deciding that maybe he'd serve as a distraction to Ocean once she discovered that Markus had fled from her. He quickly turned and pushed through the front door.
He blinked at the early morning sunlight that blinded him momentarily.
What time was it? Six-thirty-ish? Perhaps Valentine wasn't even be awake yet. Markus held his breath and scanned the grounds for his car, and started off in a sprint when he saw it. He really hoped Val hasn't awoken yet, but regardless, that still wouldn't change what Markus did. Maybe a tired Valentine would be easier to explain to than an angry one?