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⊰ 15 ⊱ Glimpse of His Black Soul
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2024-02-25 02:00:42Growing up, I always imagined that my life would be different. I’d look at my parents and think, “Someday, I’m gonna get married and have my own little family.” I never imagined that I’d be standing in a lab, trying to put together a bomb for a man that I invited into my life, while also trying to distract myself from the fact that my frustrations aren’t all to be blamed on my bomb-making inadequacy.
I guess that’s the thing about being a child: it comes with childish dreams.
I can say one thing: the fact that I can move my arm loosely as though there aren’t stitches and a bullet hole in my shoulder does help…a lot. However, the reason behind why I can is the root of my frustration.
Should I be thankful that not only did Marcel administer the medication that’s miraculously healing me but that he also sedated me so that I’d get a good night’s rest? Should I believe
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I flinch at the abrupt cold touch against my cheek, groaning softly as I furrow my eyebrows. My lungs draw a sharp breath, my eyelids fluttering open. My vision gradually sharpens at the sight of the familiar nightstand, and I briefly study the white cloth sitting over it with bloody spots staining it. In the next moment, I turn my head slowly, my gaze landing on Marcel who sits at the edge of the bed, beside me. He holds an ice pack against my cheek with a stern look playing on his hard features. He’s upset. ... I knew I should’ve stayed in the lab. Now, what’s he gonna do to me..? The image of Frank slapping the living dog shit out of me replays in my mind, and as confusing as it is that Marcel is now sitting here, tending to my wounds, I can’t help but wonder if he sees this as punishment enough or if he’s just waiting for me to get up to deal with my indiscretions his own way. To be fair, Marcel’s never h
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