Scarlett

Chapter 19: Curiosity killed the cat

To my surprise, the door was unlocked. Mark stood by the window with his face turned away from me. I wondered what he watched outside because the view from the room was not quite appealing. The window opened up to the half done backyard garden that was barely lit by the street lights. Mark did not turn towards me even when I entered the room. I was confident that he was aware of my presence in the room. But he still did not turn. I began to feel like I was not wanted in the room.

"Mark?" I called out his name, loud and clear but he did not budge and I wondered why. Mark's behavior confused me. It confused me to the extent that I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at him and ask him where I went wrong and what my mistake was. I hated being treated the way he had been treating me since I returned home. I hated being ignored. I was scared to distance myself from the people I cared about. I was afraid to lose them. I had almost lost them once, for a very long time. I hated to experience it all over again.

"Mark." I repeated. But this time, the name came out more like a demand to look at me than merely a call. Thankfully, Mark decided to acknowledge my presence in the room and turned to face me.

I did not know what to expect but I definitely did not expect what I saw. His eyes were dark, almost as if devoid of any emotion. His face expressed nothing. It was unreadable. But I could sense that it was a bad time to talk to him, he was possibly in his worst time. I knew in my heart that I should have let him be, to cool down and figure out what his problem was and possibly share it with me if he preferred it. But my mind had other plans. The cat in me was curious to figure out what was the reason behind the sudden change in his mood. Steve's words were still in my mind, "Mark is jealous." What did he have to be jealous about? I wondered. Steve was a friend just as Mark was and he knew it very well. I could never take Mark as someone so petty who would turn jealous of my friendship with someone else. My friendship with Mark would never change even if I had other friends, and I thought that Mark knew it.

"What is wrong?" I asked when he did not speak.

"Leave me alone for sometime." He pursed his lips. I searched for his eyes but they did not meet mine.

"Talk to me, Mark." I pleaded and tried to move closer but Mark took a step away from me. 

"Leave. Me. Alone." Mark repeated and once again turned towards the window.

"But listen to me." I began to walk towards him. And, curiosity killed the cat.

"Leave me the fuck alone." Mark yelled this time and I paused amidst my steps. The intensity of his fury took me by surprise. I shifted uncomfortably where I stood and after a moment retreated back to my room. 

Unexplainable emotions uncontrollably flushed through me. I was upset. I felt dejected, and somehow even betrayed. I really needed to learn to give people the personal space that they deserved, I thought to myself. I tried not to think too much about Mark and his reaction and hoped that everything would return back to the way they were in the next morning. With that hope, I fell asleep. The night was not peaceful and I did not sleep well. 

I watched the man standing in front of me, his  dirty and tired face revealed fear and anxiety. He stood motionless, as he stared at me, right through my soul. He looked at my face, an unreadable book that displayed no emotions. My brown eyes were hollow, emotionless and devoid of any brightness or shine but they possessed intense anger and hatred. They burnt like fire in the deepest corners of Hell. My blazing eyes reflected the devil himself. I had not one drop of tear, no regret and no fear. Like a lifeless object, I stood with the revolver on my right hand. The man I aimed at watched me intently and his chapped lips parted for a moment as if to utter a plea for forgiveness. But he did not utter a word. Instead, he slowly and softly closed his eyes as a drop of tear fell on his left cheek. It was as if he had accepted it all. He  had accepted that it was his end. He had accepted death.