Cruel Page 3

  “He started it!” Marcus growled, wiping the blood dripping from his face. “He threw the first punch.”

  “It was a sucker punch,” someone agreed from behind him.

  Cody moaned weakly as he managed to stumble to his feet.

  “Fuck you, Preston,” he spat. “Prick.”

  A couple helped escort him out the front door as Marcus looked around in disbelief. He tried to make sense of how that had just happened but it still didn’t make a lot of sense. He didn’t see Steve anywhere. He stood, dazed for a moment, debating what to do.

  “There’s a bathroom upstairs if you want to clean yourself up,” a girl suggested. Numbly, Marcus nodded and headed toward the staircase. People cleared a path for him and he made his way to the second floor.

  I’ll clean myself up and go home, he thought but the idea didn’t fill him with any pleasure at all. He didn’t even have his phone to text Steve to get out of there and his friend had driven.

  Shit. I can’t even send for an Uber.

  Somehow, the knowledge gave him a spark of pleasure. He was trapped there—kind of. Even though he didn’t want to be there anymore, the alternative wasn’t great.

  There were four doors on the second floor, each one shut so he tried the first one, hoping to locate the bathroom. It was a bedroom with a half-naked couple on the bed.

  Closing the door, he ambled down the hall to the second door and pushed it open. There, he found another duo fornicating against a wall.

  “Close the door, perv!” the girl yelled. “And get out of my room!”

  He sighed and pulled the door shut, shaking his head. The blood was crusting around his nostrils and he tried the third door.

  Shockingly, it was the bathroom and it was unoccupied.

  Marcus slipped inside and peered at his bruised face in the mirror, again shaking his head in amazement.

  I can’t believe he sucker punched me, he thought. He wasn’t sure if it was the idea that a guy he’d considered his friend had done it or if the words Cody had spoken beforehand was the worst part of it.

  I have never thought I was better than anyone. What a joke. What a stupid little prick.

  The door to the bathroom opened and Marcus’ head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as they fell on the uninvited guest.

  “Can’t you see someone’s in here?” he growled but the words died on his lips as he realized who it was. Elyse Halston gaped at him and he returned the look of shock.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” they chorused in unison.

  “This is my house,” she breathed, shaking her head. “My bathroom.”

  Sheepishly, he hung his head. He hadn’t known that.

  “Oh. I-I’ll be out in a second,” he told her begrudgingly but she didn’t move to leave. Instead, she ambled toward him, closing the door behind her as she neared. A curiosity had overtaken the surprise as she stared at him.

  “W-what are you doing?” he barked.

  “What happened to your face?” she replied, ignoring his question as she neared. “Are you okay?”

  Surprise and shame welled through him as he heard the genuine concern in her voice.

  Why does she give a shit? She’s never given one before.

  As she peered at his nose, Marcus found himself drawn to the gentle lines of her face, noticing the almost translucent hue of her skin.

  “I’m fine. I got sucker punched by some loser downstairs.”

  A small smirk formed on Elyse’s mouth.

  “What did you do to deserve it?” she asked lightly, reaching into a cupboard. She pulled out a bag of cotton balls and rubbing alcohol, setting them down on the counter.

  “That’s a bitchy thing to say,” he snapped. “I just told you, I got sucker punched. By definition, it means it was unprovoked.”

  “I’m sure that’s what it was,” she agreed but he could hear the sarcasm in her tone. She poured some alcohol onto a swab and moved toward his face but he flinched.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded. She paused, looking surprised.

  “I’m trying to help fix your messed-up face,” she replied shortly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “I…” he trailed off, his protests dying on his lips as she dabbed at the cuts gently. He winced at the sting and her smirk widened.

  “So?” she asked. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  For a moment, he considered ignoring her.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” he muttered. “I accidentally hurt him on the field today when we were playing ball and he was harboring a grudge.”

  “Accidentally?”

  He frowned.

  “Yes. Accidentally,” he snapped. “I don’t go around hurting people for no good reason. I’m not a sociopath.”

  She didn’t immediately respond but he though he heard her snicker.

  “What?” he barked. “You think I’m a sociopath?”

  “I think that people don’t go around punching other people for no good reason unless they are,” she replied firmly, tossing the bloodied cotton into a wicker trash bin. “Was he a sociopath?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “Hm.”

  “Hm what?” He couldn’t say why but her smug attitude was pressing all his buttons.

  This is what I’m talking about. She’s all superior, like she knows shit that I don’t.

  “Did you apologize for hurting him accidentally?”

  A flutter of shame slid through Marcus but he maintained his stony expression as Elyse continued to clean him up.

  “Of course I did,” he lied.

  She finished her treatment and stood back to admire her handiwork.

  “It’s not broken,” she told him. “Lucky for you, he hits like a girl.”

  In spite of his sullen feeling, Marcus couldn’t help but grin.

  “He does, doesn’t he?”

  Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened again and Steve stood there, gawking at them.

  “Aw shit,” Steve howled. “It’s true! Cody punched you!”

  “It’s nothing,” Marcus grumbled, rising from where he’d perched on the edge of the bathtub. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s fine,” Elyse agreed. “It doesn’t even need to be set.”

  “How do you know?” Steve asked, his tone slightly suspicious as he took in the scene with interest.

  “I’m pre-med,” Elyse replied, washing her hands. “Now can you both get out so I can use my washroom?”

  Begrudgingly, Marcus turned and followed Steve out into the hallway. He paused to thank her but before he could, she closed the door in his face, the click of the lock definitive and cold.

  “Well,” Steve purred, eyeing him slyly. “I thought that girl was bad news.”

  “She is,” Marcus replied curtly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “If you say so,” Steve called out to his retreating back but Marcus barely heard him. He could still feel the trail of Elyse’s cool, soft fingers over his face.

  Chapter 4

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else?” Steve asked as he pulled up to the Preston house. “I mean, I can think of at least another four parties that are happening right now.”

  The offer was beyond tempting and he gnawed on the insides of his cheeks before shaking his head.

  I can’t. Whatever happened tonight, it was a sign from the gods to go home. I shouldn’t have left the house tonight.

  As he thought it, Elyse’s pale face popped into his mind and he felt an unexpected shiver.

  “No, man. I’m getting a headache,” Marcus said and he wasn’t lying. A dull throb had started behind his nose and worked its way all the way down his spine. He just wanted to pop a Motrin and forget that day had ever happened.

  Well, maybe not the part about Elyse.

  He was shocked at his own thoughts. She had basically confirmed everything he’d ever known about her in the few minutes they’d spent in the bathroom.
She was cocky and arrogant, showing off her medical skills.

  Pre-med, my ass. She just started college two weeks ago. How can she call herself pre-med?

  Yet he admitted that she had been very sure of herself, her movements as skilful as any nurse or doctor he’d seen and when he’d seen how she’d cleaned up his nose, he knew she hadn’t been lying. The cut would heal and there was no break. He’d broken bones before and there was no way his nose was ruptured.

  “All right. Try not to get punched in the face again,” Steve chortled as Marcus climbed out of the car.

  “I’ll try,” Marcus replied dryly. Being punched wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment. What waited for him inside was much, much worse.

  Please be asleep. Please be asleep. Please be—

  “Marc? Is that you?”

  The sing-song voice flowed down the hall to greet him in the entranceway as he opened the door and Marcus cringed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where have you been? I’ve been texting, and calling, and calling again!”

  His mother appeared in the hall, her white nightgown swirling around her ankles as she drifted toward him.

  “Yeah…I forgot my phone,” he said, dropping his house key onto the entrance table. “Sorry.”

  “You know I get so lonely,” she murmured, drawing herself into his arms. “And scared. Tell me, have you seen your father? I left him a message…I think.”

  Marcus’ jaw twitched as he untangled himself from her arms.

  “No,” he said flatly. “I haven’t.”

  I haven’t seen him in ten years, he wanted to say. And neither have you.

  “Oh,” she sighed. “That’s too bad. I made a roast for dinner.”

  Alarm coursed through him and he bolted toward the kitchen, sniffing the air for the scent of smoke but to his relief, he saw that Lucy hadn’t been cooking that night.

  “Mom,” he implored her softly. “You know you can’t cook, right?”

  “Oh, I know,” she giggled, a faraway look in her emerald eyes. “Alva came to help. She’s from Cuba but we’re not supposed to tell anyone that she doesn’t have her papers, okay?”

  Marcus closed his eyes and inhaled, steeling himself to stay calm.

  Alva has been dead for five years, but okay.

  “Mom, did you take your pills today?” he asked her gently, taking her arm to lead her back into the only bedroom on the main floor.

  “My vitamins? Um…”

  She shrugged and giggled again.

  “I’m not sure, baby. Hey, Robbie? Can we go to Disneyland over the summer? Marcus will love it. I mean, I know he’s too young now to understand it but every baby loves It’s a Small World, don’t they?”

  He swallowed the bubble of emotions threatening to spill from his windpipe.

  “Mom, I am Marcus,” he whispered but he knew that whatever he said was going in one ear and out the other. He wasn’t even sure which personality he was dealing with in that moment but he was fairly sure it was Lucy, his mother.

  “Come on, Mom,” he sighed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “Oh, but I’m not tired. There’s an old movie marathon on tonight, baby. Won’t you make some popcorn and watch it with me? I think they’re going to play Casablanca. I love that movie. Remember when we used to watch it at the drive in, Robbie?”

  “I-I have a lot of studying to do, Mom,” he told her, his voice faltering slightly. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

  She pouted, her eyes flashing with indignation.

  “You always say that but you’re too busy with your mistress, aren’t you? Don’t think I don’t know about that slut at your office, Robbie.”

  “Okay,” Marcus sighed, the headache forming in his skull becoming a full-fledged migraine as he steered his delusional mother into her bedroom. Abruptly, Lucy wrenched free and gaped at him in disbelief.

  “MARC!” she whimpered, her hands reaching up to touch his face. “What happened to your nose?”

  “Nothing, Mom. It’s fine.”

  “That is not fine, baby! Is it those bullies at school again? I’ll have your father go talk to the principal first thing in the morning!”

  His head was swimming, trying to keep up with her warped sense of time. It was exhausting trying to stay linear with her when she was so far gone.

  “Okay, Mom,” he said softly, easing her back into her dishevelled bed. “We can talk about it in the morning, okay?”

  She smiled dreamily up at him.

  “About what, pumpkin?” she purred. He reached for a bottle of lorazepam and pulled out two, placing them directly onto her tongue to ensure she would take them.

  I shouldn’t have left my phone here, he thought, shaking his head as he sank onto the bed. He knew he needed to wait for her to fall asleep before she started pacing the house in the throes of her insomnia.

  I’m a terrible son.

  How much more of this could he take? How much longer could he watch his mother deteriorate while he hid her condition from the rest of the world? He knew that once the doctors caught wind of how bad she’d become, they would recommend she be institutionalized at once.

  Marcus knew that was probably the best thing for her. But with what money? Any place that might take her surely wouldn’t have the quality of care she needed but keeping her home was equally dangerous. When he was at school, he was terrified that she had done something to harm herself. When he was home, he wanted to run as far and fast as he could from there.

  But she was his mother, one who had done her best after his father had, indeed, run off with that slut from his office.

  Lucy Preston had always been frail and if she’d lived her youth in the modern age, her psychoses would have likely gotten treated so that she would not have become the hot mess she was today.

  What am I going to do with you, Mom? He thought, the woe filling his gut as he knew the answer.

  “Marc?” Lucy whispered, her eyes drooping slightly.

  “Yeah, Ma?”

  “I love you so much, baby. And don’t worry about those bullies. Your daddy is going to set them right.”

  He nodded, managing a weak smile as she finally drifted off into slumber and Marcus quietly rose to leave her asleep.

  What bullies is she talking about? He wondered as he made his way to the kitchen for a bag of frozen peas. He tried to remember his life before Robert Preston had left but even though Marcus had been eleven, he found it very difficult to recollect his early childhood. Maybe he had blocked it out because of Lucy’s schizophrenia and personality disorders. Maybe he just didn’t want to think about the man who had up and abandoned him. Whatever the reason, Marcus just didn’t recall.

  He sat at the kitchen table, the frozen vegetables pressed to his nose and closed his eyes as he willed the pain to subside.

  What bullies? He thought again, a sardonic smile touching his lips. Who would have ever been stupid enough to have messed with me?

  Even as a kid, Marcus had been big and strapping. It defied logic that anyone would have messed with him.

  Suddenly, an image popped into his mind, one that was clear and sharp. In this memory, he was maybe eight years old, encircled by a group of older boys who mocked him. He couldn’t hear their words but their actions were unmistakable as they pointed and laughed. At once, they were all on him, encircling him to punch and kick at him as he cowered.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the bright, shining blue iris of a small girl, crouched behind a tree, watching the entire scene. When the crowd moved in on him, Marcus’ eyes flew open and he choked, the recollection knocking the breath from him.

  I was bullied. How could I have blocked that out?

  Still, it was a far-gone memory from another life, one that had no bearing on him now. What made it so curious, however, was knowing that Elyse Halston had been there while it was happening.

  Watching it all with the same smug attitude that she has now.

  Chapter 5

&n
bsp; Thirteen Years Ago

  “Marcus Preston to the principal’s office,” a nasally voice intoned over the speaker. “Marcus Preston to the principal’s office.”

  “Oh!” the class chorused, jeering and pointing. “Marcus is in trouble.”

  He rose from his seat, grimacing at their childish jest and Mrs. Clarke nodded.

  “You better hurry, Marcus,” she told him but he was already at the door, his heart beginning to pound. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called down there this week and the eight-year old had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the last either.

  “Hope you don’t get suspended again, Marcus,” his friend Brayden joked, but it wasn’t funny to Marcus, not when it was a very real threat. After all, he’d been in four fights over the last four weeks. He’d been warned that the next one could lead to expulsion and then where would he be?

  As he exited the classroom, he slowed his gait. He considered which would be the better of two evils—either his dad would be there, rushing him out of class to deal with his mother or the principal was expelling him finally.

  It would be better if Dad was here. Then maybe I could convince him to stay and help Mom.

  Even then he knew he was being naïve. His father wouldn’t stay. The man had been on his way out for a long time and Marcus knew that it was inevitable that his parents were going to get divorced, no matter what he said. Maybe it would be better if he was kicked out of school. At least that way, he could focus all his attention on mending whatever issues his parents were having full-time.

  Through the hall he wandered, avoiding eye contact with anyone he passed as his mind whirled. As he neared the office, he saw someone sitting in the corridor, just out of view of the secretary and curiously, he noted the look on her face.

  He recognized her bright red hair and pale skin. She was two or three grades behind him but he’d seen her around before. She didn’t pay any attention to one of the most popular boys in school – as if he wasn’t there at all. Instead, she sat stonily, her arms folded across her chest as he slowed.

  For no discernable reason, he felt the need to stop and talk with her.

  Perhaps he had been buying time, knowing that he wanted to avoid whatever was going to find him on the other side of the office doors. Or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t seem impressed to see him.