The Marked

There is no greater hell than wanting to die but not being able to. Gideon Anderson is my name, and killing others is my game. I am a marked one, those damned for all eternity for something, they don't tell us what we did, only what they want from us.
NOTE: This movella contains graphic material, scens of violence and profuse language use. Not suggested for those opposed to such material; read with caution.


9. A Strange Predicament

   As Lucian left Gideon immediately wandered down the hallway, leaving Lucy in the living room alone, again. She just sat there on the sofa for a bit, contemplating and mentally digesting what had just occurred. "What did he mean by, keep her on the down low?" she pondered to herself. Her mind was swirling with all this new information, it was dizzying how much she had learned about the boy who saved her in the matter of only about a day. As her mind continued to wander, she noticed the ragged neuse on the coffee table; seeing as it had been cut she looked up to the ceiling to find the rest of it. "A neuse huh, well Gideon did say he had morbid decorations..." her thoughts trailed off as she felt a presence within the room.

   "Lucy, I..." it was Gideon. "I... I'm sorry you had to learn about me this way, and so soon." he looked as though he had been crying again, and one of his hands was bleeding from his knuckles. She took his wounded hand in hers gently so as not to hurt him.

   "It's alright," she replied wiping his face with her other hand. "I'd rather you be honest with me than lie, I've been lied to all my life so being truthful makes me happy to be with you." She looked at his hand and then back to his eyes, "you hurt your hand, let me take care of it." She pulled slightly on him as she stood up and guided him towards the hallway down to his room. Gideon didn't resist as she sat him down and began to bandage his hand with gauze from the medical kit from his bathroom. He felt lost, moreover he felt as though he was an animal caught in a trap, and in a sense he was. He knew what keeping someone on the down low meant; keep them and yourself on lock down until someone, in this case Lucian, gave the all clear.

   "Gideon," Lucy butted into his thoughts, "Something is bothering you, isn't it?" 

   "No, it's nothing," he responded trying to avoid the question. 

   "Gideon," she pried, "Your hiding something, and I seek it, so tell me, what is bothering you?" She starred at him waiting for a response. She hated seeing Gideon this way, it saddened her. 

   "I can't allow you to leave the premises," he answered not even looking up. "and before you ask what I mean, it's literal, I cannot allow you to leave my apartment now."

   "You can't make me stay," she responded with a slight dole of fear in her voice. The last time someone said that, it was that pervert old man who bought her from that slave auction. The thought of how that played out began to worry her that the same thing might happen here as well. Suddenly Gideon grabbed her wrist in a slight squeeze.

   "I'm sorry, but I can't," he replied looking into her now terrified eyes. "Lucy, please don't make me do anything rash, it's bad enough I've probably lost your liking for me..." he trailed off as he let go of her wrist and laid down on the bed, rolling over as he felt more tears coming on.

   "Did he really just say, don't make me do something rash!?" she thought to herself, "Gideon really is bent on keeping me here then." It wasn't like she minded much considering he had treated her nicely, and though she hadn't made it verbally apparent, she was growing feelings for this boy that she thought she would never feel in her accursed life. Sensing as though Gideon wanted some alone time she whispered in his ears that she would go clean up their breakfast, and lock up the place; not so much as even a grunt of acknowledgement from him, it tore her up on the inside. She strode down the hall, first locking the door to the apartment and then setting about cleaning up the place. One of the things she learned to do well from her forced servitude was how to clean a place.

   Gideon at this point however, was tired of crying, so he dragged his trash can over to his bedside, leaned his wrist over the slide, and in one fluid motion slit his wrist; the quick pain gave way to an immediate sigh of pleasure and release as the slick, inky black liquid flowed from his veins into the trash can below.

   "Feel alive yet Gideon?" it was that voice in his head again. "Is this how you are gonna deal with the pain?"

   "Oh fuck off," he replied tersely to the voice only he could hear. There was wild laughter in his head as the voice cackled in response to Gideon's terse response.

   "That's all you have to say to me?" it chuckled. "Fuck off? Well sorry pal, I can't do that, you know the drill; I own your body in exchange for my power."

   "Gideon, I..." Lucy's trailing voice broke the conversation. Looking over in her direction, he saw the utter despair on her face. "Oh my god Gideon! Why would you do that!?" she wailed as she snatched the medical kit and immediately began to stop the flow of his blood from his wrist.

   "Do you hate me Lucy?" he asked with the face of a beaten animal. "Do I disgust, or frighten you?"

   She stopped bandaging his wrist, "No, I don't hate you Gideon." She looked at him, "This is an awkward situation you've put me in, but I don't hate you."

   "You lie," he responded with a weak smile, "You hate my guts, you hate what I do and, what I am, don't you?" 

   "If I hated you, I would slit your throat with your own knife and ran," she replied, tugging on the bandage to make sure it held. He began to sit up, propping himself up with his good arm. She slid the kit under the bed and looked at him with a sad look in her eyes.

   "It's for your own good," he spoke quietly. "And I know holding you here makes you -" but he was cut off by Lucy's lips crashing into his with such a force it knocked him flat on the bed. She let up for a second as she spoke.

   "Just shut up, and let me love the boy I want," and without being able to order any form of rebuttal, he found himself locked in a passionate kiss, as the natural high came flooding back. This was indeed as Lucy put it, an awkward situation, be he didn't care, he loved being locked up with her just the same.

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