For Her Honor

Chapter 28

You know that feeling you get when you've slept on your arm wrong and you wake up with the sudden knowledge that your can't move your arm. It tingles and may possibly hurt but no matter what you do, for all of three minutes, it just won't move.

Well that's how I felt, except that tingly, numb feeling had taken over my entire body. And it wasn't just three minutes, it had been all day. And all night. And all day after that. My body was numb to nearly everything around me; the cold, the heat, the pain. There was only one thing I felt and it was a razor sharp stabbing within my chest, probably from the broken shards of my heart. But at least it was something to feel.

I was sitting in another dark room, six days had passed since the unthinkable happened. And I still couldn't believe what my eyes had personally seen. But I couldn't get the image out of my head...

... the image of Marco's lifeless body, surrounded by the darkest shade of red that I had ever seen.

My stomach churned violently just at the thought and I had to keel over in the corner to once again heave up the one piece of bread and the cup of water that I had eaten this morning. Luckily, I was locked in this cell of a room by myself, I had been for the past three days. The only other human interaction I had during the day was when a hand slid a tray of bread and water under the door every morning.

I hadn't heard a voice since Brett's laughter when he left me in here. I hadn't seen another face since Brett shut the door. I hadn't felt another human since Marco's arms fell from my body as he died right in front of me.

Tears gathered in my eyes again but I wasn't entirely sure how I had any tears left. It felt like I had been crying non stop for years. I felt like I had been fighting non stop for years when in actuality it had only been a few months. Although, for Marco it had been years. And sometimes a little voice told me it was better this way, he was in a better place after all and he was no longer suffering.

But I was selfish.

And I wanted him back.

That was basically the only conversation I had with myself, over and over again. From the time I woke up until the time I cried myself to sleep. I'd watch absentmindedly as the sun rose and set through my window, a window blocked by bars might I add. But even if they weren't, I doubt I'd actually attempt to escape.

Because I had come to the inevitable conclusion that this is what I should have done all along. We would have bypassed so many hardships and so much pain if I had just given myself up from the beginning. I never would have been stabbed, or nearly drowned, or basically hit by a car.

Marco would still be alive, breathing and living.

I had really fucked all of this up.

More tears streamed down my face. I probably looked equivalent to some type of Halloween decoration that people hung up during the holiday to scare away pesky children and to spook friends. My makeup had long since been washed away, my hair was ratty and caked with dirt, my clothes were wearing down, and my personality had been obliterated.

And sound the sad music, cue the montage of my time with Marco. Bring in the violins and we can all sit around pitying the girl who was currently vomiting into the corner of a room. It's okay, I won't hold it against you. Because honestly, that's how I felt. I pitied myself. I was pathetic and useless and an awful human being.

I was imperfect.

And I'd never live that down.

Slowly, I heard the door creak open, letting in a column of light that shot across the floor and illuminated my hunched body.