Sick Child - MarkoxOC

Part 6: Dear Prudence

She wakes up in a fog the next morning. She turns her head, expecting to find Marko, but there's just a cold empty space. Before she can even process the disappointment, the pain starts. Slow, at first, and then becomes a dull ache that pounds from the top of her head through her entire body. It feels like the worst hangover she's ever had. Her limbs feel like they're made of lead. She tries to kick the blankets off of her, but fails miserably. Sofie whines and takes a few deep breaths to compose herself before trying to get up.

"Motherfucker," she hisses, easing herself up onto her elbows.

Ichabod is perched on the chair across the room, sleeping peacefully. After what feels like an eternity of wrestling with the sheets, the soles of Sofie's feet find the cold hardwood and she pushes herself up to standing, her legs wobbling. She almost kills herself tripping over her underwear and tank top. When she manages to find her balance again, she snatches the fluffy blue robe from the hook on her door and wraps it around herself. Every muscle aches with every movement.

"Fuck. I'm either really out of shape or he was rougher than I thought," she mumbles.

She walks into the living room. His jacket and gloves are gone; the room is eerily quiet.

"Marko?"

Silence. She deflates and looks around, groggy and angry. Something sticking out of her bookshelf catches her eye. Sofie squints as she steps toward it. As she gingerly pulls it out, she laughs. It's the skull patch from his jacket with a note attached. Sofie opens it. His penmanship is erratic but strangely beautiful.

Thanks for the dance.

See you tonight.

PS. I fed Ichabod. We're working on our issues.

-Marko

She glances at the clock. 8:00pm.

"Holy shit!" She whispers, dropping the patch and the note onto the coffee table and racing to the bathroom to shower. How did she sleep this late?

Sofie strips off her robe and looks at herself in the mirror, her breath hitching at the sight of her own reflection. She's grey, her brown eyes sunken with dark circles around them that make her look like a corpse. Her lips are cracked and dry, and her cheekbones protrude in a way she's never seen before. As she runs her fingers over a face she barely recognizes, she realizes that her neck aches and turns her head, recoiling at the reason for the pain. A big, dark, ugly, purple and black bruise with what looks like two healing puncture wounds. It looks like a spider bite, from a really fucking big spider. Sofie pokes at the wound gently, hissing in pain.

"What the fuck..."

She opens a drawer, rifling through it for a makeup sponge and a tube of concealer to set aside for later before unwrapping the bandage from her hand. The wound is worse - red, ugly, and inflamed. She cleans out her hand and her neck with some alcohol. Both look a bit better by the time she's finished, but not much. She sighs and turns on the shower with her good hand. Her muscles begin to melt and unknot at the sensation of scalding water pounding against her skin. She stays far longer than she anticipated, remembering Marko's fingers on her, and the feeling of his lips ghosting across her neck.

And then pain and pleasure colliding in her body all at once. She remembers collapsing onto the bed after they were finished... his eyes - golden and terrifying; his face, sharp and twisted into something demonic. The memory is so visceral that if she closes her eyes, she swears she could reach out and touch him. Sofie opens her eyes and gasps, quickly turning off the shower and wrapping her arms around herself.

"You were drunk. You were just drunk," she whispers. "Great sex can make you hallucinate. Pretty sure they've covered it in Cosmo."

She steps out of the shower, pulls her robe over her shoulders and begins the delicate process of covering her weird hickey with some makeup. She's going to need a turtleneck or a scarf to get through her shift. In 90 degree weather. That'll be a good look. Sofie huffs, re-bandages her hand, and yanks a black turtleneck and black jeans on before dashing out the door. The walk is difficult. She's still groggy and sore, stopping every few minutes to rest and catch her breath. By the time she gets to the bar, she's already fifteen minutes late. Matt and Kara are setting up, mopping while New Order blares through the bar. Sofie flinches as the music assaults her eardrums. She storms toward the DJ booth, cranking the volume down.