My Darling Psychopath

Chapter Seven: 'Brother?'

"BANG BANG BANG, BABY BROTHER?!"

"For fuck sake." I heard Marshall moan beside me. It was morning and a racket of the apartment front door had awoke me and clearly Marshall too. I turned over to see Marshall facing my way led on his side. "Don't worry, it'll stop soon." He reassured.

I began to feel a little concerned after all I had just woke up from an amazing sleep - almost perfect night, to hear nothing but an agitated bloke at the front door. "Did he just say brother?"

Marshall sighed wiping his eyes. "Yeah. He got released today."

"Released?.."

"Released from prison, sorry I forgot how curious you are." He smiled as so did I, but I began to feel a little guilty for the guy at the door, regardless of just being released from prison or not.

"You should answer it, he might just want a catch up." I implied sitting up.

"Yeah, I should, but I wanted to spend the morning with you." He pouted.

"Look, I'll change, you let him in and make him a drink, drop me home and we'll meet later." I let a smile out a rubbed my temples from the noise of the continuous banging.

"MARSHALL, COME ON!" You could hear the similar husk to Marshall's n his voice just older. Even though he was standing behind a locked door meteres away from us; his voice was loud and clear without a doubt.

"I'm sorry about this." Marshall sighed sitting up our of bed and putting his shirt from yesterday on, exiting the room and unlocking the front door.

I continued to rub my temples for a few more seconds. I stood up, finding my bra and putting it on underneath Marshall's AC/DC shirt; moving on to put on my black leggings from yesterday on. Socks, shoes, you name it, I was ready to go home. I flipped my hair bending over and tied it up into a messy bun with strands of hair flowing beside my ears.

I walked out of the bedroom with my hand bag leaning on my arm and smiled at Marshall in his tight little boxers talking to his brother.
He was.. British, cockney. His hair dark brown; the top gelled backwards and shaved neatly around the back and sides. He was definitely an older brother - but he looked cleaner than a convict who had just been released out of prison.

"Who is this luvlay laday?" His husky yet energetic accent stood out like mad.

Marshall turned behind him crossing his arms with a blank expression. "This is Lola. Lola, this is James."

"Hello James." I smiled, taking a few steps closer to have a better look at his appearance.

"Lola, whatta' luvlay name." He winked.

I chuckled, Marshall just stood straight arms crossed; simply pissed off. I turned my attention back onto James, whose skin was pale, yet healthy, nose, lips, green eyes, everything in the right place, except for his lips. You could see before the damage his lips would've been much like Marshall's. Perfect, soft, cushion-like. But no.. he had one scar on either side of his mouth. Some call it a 'Chelsea Grin ', which of course had been inflicted on my somebody else. I didn't stare too long - I didn't want him to feel judged, or like I was creeped out by him because strangly I wasn't.

Marshall sighed, "why didn't you go to Dad's?"

James grinned much like how Marshall did, "I wanted to see my baby bruvva'."

"Can I ask a question?" I said slightly raising my hand beside my face. Marshall tried to hide a slight chuckle knowing what my question contained while James nodded with a grin.
"British? American?"