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.


6. Scars

   Gideon unlocked the door and cracked it open to peek out side, there was the sound of rushing water coming from the kitchen suggesting Lucy was still washing herself off. Carefully he opened the door and crept out into the hall in his towel, quietly he closed the bathroom door and moved towards his room trying to be as stealthy as possible.

   "Okay," he thought to himself, "Almost there Gideon." He approached his door to the bedroom and opened it. Carefully turning around he closed the door with a quiet click. He turned around and then he gasped.

   "Ahh!" Lucy squeaked, blushing. "What's this? Gideon, what are you doing!?" she squealed as her face turned bright red. He was dripping wet and wrapped in only a towel; was this how he always was around the house!? 

   "Ah, get out of here!" he replied just as embarrassed. "Ah go on! Get outta here!" He quickly moved aside as Lucy made a speedy exit. On her way out she noticed a scar on Gideon's leg and lower back that she hadn't noticed before but before she could ask, he was shoving her out the door. 

   "God damn!" Gideon moaned. "That was embarrassing to no end!" He was red in the face and his body ached as the little adrenaline in his body depleted. He felt extremely hot and his breathing became heavy as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. He stumbled over to his bureau and slung open the top drawer containing his boxers and socks. He withdrew a pair of boxers and quickly slung them on followed by a visit to his pants drawer where he withdrew a pair of ash colored jeans and a belt with a razor cut look to it and put them on. Closing the drawer his door opened.

  "Hey," it was Lucy. "Are you decent?" There was a slight quiver in her voice. 

   "Yeah," Gideon replied. "Come in." Lucy stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She walked up to him and placed her hands on the side of each of his damp arms and placed her head on his right shoulder.

   "I'm sorry about that," she spoke in almost a whisper. "I was looking for a small mirror if you had one." She held onto him as she listened to his breathing.

   "It's okay, I know you weren't there doing anything bad," he responded. "It was just a little embarrassing you know to practically be naked and walk into your room and have a girl just standing there." He smiled as the natural high came back to him. Turning around to look her in the eyes he placed his hands on her waist and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, tell me you didn't leave the water running."

   "No," she smiled. "I turned it off." She let herself be drawn in to his embrace as they began to hold each other in a hug like stance. Placing her head on his still damp chest she inhaled; he smelled like a combination between a forest and the smell of iron. The iron smell was so minuscule compared to the smell of the forest which emanated from his body. She withdrew from his embrace and moved to the bed and sat down.

   "Gideon," she mumbled. "If it's not too personal, I saw the scar on your leg and lower back, would you tell me what happened to you?" She had a beaten, withdrawn look on her face as she began to feel as though she may have crossed a line somewhere.

   "My scars, you saw them?" Gideon sighed, "Yeah well it was bound to come up sometime I guess." He walked over and sat down beside her. "The scars on my leg are from a car wreck I was in, I was walking home and got nailed by a car that lost control. It pushed me against the guard rail and practically shredded my leg." 

   "Oh my god! That's terrible," she gasped as she put one hand on his leg. He returned the notion by covering her hand with one of his. 

   "That's only for the leg," he replied. "The one on my lower back, that's from.. well I guess you could say complications from the accident, when they were putting me back together I guess something happened and it resulted in that scar." In reality the second scar was a reminder of his contract to the Organization, and the fact that he should be rotting in the ground at the moment. As much as he wanted to, he didn't feel comfortable telling her the truth, at least not yet. He stood up and walked back to the bureau and took out a light grey shirt with an iron cross splashed across it. He slipped it on over his head and walked back over to Lucy.

   "So how 'bout you?" he asked.

   "What?" she asked a bit confused.

   "Well someone like you has scars, they may not be physical but they are there and coming from the condition I found you in yesterday I'd have to suspect you're carrying your own luggage as well, am I wrong?" he answered in a flat tone.

   "That obvious huh?" she sighed. They were terrible memories, but she poked at Gideon so it was only fair she answer him. "Well let's just say I haven't had the best life so far. After My mom died I was left with my step-father who for lack of better words was a drunken asshole. He always tried to start fights when he wasn't working, which was only one day a week. I got tired of it and began to look for job to get me out of the house and well.. A series of unfortunate events later I wound up gagged and probably going to be rapped and killed when you found me and saved me."

   It was obvious Lucy was omitting details, but he figured that they were dark memories and so he didn't push. Instead he convinced her to have some scrambled eggs with him at the table while they decided what to do about all the stuff that happened. As the two of them were talking casually and laughing at each other's jokes the phone rang.

   "Hello," Gideon spoke as he picked up the phone. 

   "Gideon, It's Lucian," his friend's voice answered from the telephone. "We need to talk."

   "I don't know that now would be the best time," Gideon responded.

   "There's no choice in the manner," Lucian replied. "I'm coming now so be ready." Before Gideon could protest his friend had hung up the phone. Gideon replaced the phone on the receiver and walked over to the calender.

   "A Monday," he grumbled. "I hate Mondays... so much."

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