Day 114

Grinding my teeth together fiercely I let myself stand in the doorway of my bathroom, arms crossed, hair frantically everywhere and a mess I tried not to think about the noise coming from behind me. It was a mixture of pain and agony, confusion and above all, rage. I closed my eyes briefly feeling the cold touch of Busters mose as he tried to wiggle past my legs. “Shoo… Shoo” I mumbled using my ankle to slide him backwards. He charged forth and tried darting into the bathroom but to no avail.

Marc was hunched over the toilet once again, gagging and gagging until nothing but blood was coming out of his mouth. I tried to ask if he needed to go the hospital but he refused to budge. Certainly wasn’t the greatest time of my life, but he needed someone and I was really the only person he seemed to have.

“Oh f**k…” Marc said roughly, his tone gurgled and trapped by saliva and other gross fluids. Spitting into the water he twisted his head around to face me, waving a hand telling me to leave. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“Why are you apologizing? You’re sick. It can’t be helped.” I mumbled under my breath. I let my guard down and Buster trucked past me, sliding against the floor until he barged directly into Marc’s lap. Walking into the main room I grabbed my cell phone and pressed it against the table lightly, feeling my fingers begin to tap along the old wood.  I glared at my hands, and then my feet, and then eventually realized I was just going to be angry about everything from then on.

It had become sort of a routine: I would make plans with Marc, everything would go as planned until the day of or day before, Marc would get sick, I would take him to the hospital, he would get put on more or new medication, and was sent home. It had been that way for some time now and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to deal with it. Something was seriously wrong with Marc. His hair was shorter, his muscles seemed to be deteriorating and his eyes… his eyes were filled with nothing but pure sorrow. He was keeping secrets and I wasn’t fit to know them so it seemed.

I walked over to the kitchen table and took a seat. Grabbing a long strand of my ginger hair I slowly began to twirl it around my fingers, until I have securely managed a small braid on the left side. Marc found his way into the kitchen, shirt off and a bucket tucked underneath his left arm. In the other arm, the squirming Buster was resting, legs dangling he looked pathetically hopeless as he tried to bark in protest. I smirked slightly as Marc dropped him into my lap. Giving him a weak smile he brushed his head underneath my chin and forced his nose against my hand so I would pet him. I let my fingers slide against his bright golden furs, slowly reaching the spot on his back he loved the most.

Marc took a seat on the far end of the table and placed the bucket on the floor, running a hand through his shortened hair. He grunted a bit and started to rhythmically tap his fingers against the sleek wood, making smudges on the dark staining he kept quiet for a brief moment before opening his mouth finally.

“I need to go to the hospital.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” I snorted, setting Buster on the floor. He barked and wriggled in between the legs of my chair. I gave Marc a cold stare. I knew he could feel it-- he felt in on every inch of his skin. He refused to make eye contact as he covered his mouth, and then placed a hand across his forehead. “Can we please not argue about this? I don’t give you s**t for your uncontrollable problems.” he snorted. My eye twitched for a moment as I stared at the floor, my hands starting to shake in outrage.

“You’re right.” I glared. Reaching into my pocket I grabbed my car keys and threw them across the table hard enough to smack him square in the jaw. He flinched a bit and gave me a serious look, pulling himself to his feet. I glowered as I did the same, marching past him as quick as possible. He extended his arm and grabbed me at the ditch of my elbow, but I jerked away quickly feeling the spot he touched me at burn in discomfort.

“Don’t touch me.” I said hoping my voice hadn’t sounded too panicked. He flashed me a dense look but didn’t say anything about it.

“Don’t walk away from me then. You never give me a chance to explain anything.” he tried to argue on his behalf but he was doing a piss poor job of it. I extended a foot back and kicked him hard in the shin, the force hard enough to push him away from me. I walked into my bedroom and slid the door shut, leaving him to wallow on the other side of the door.

“What if I need you for something?” he stammered, kicking a foot against the door. I winced at the thought but turned away from him and walked over to my bed. Hearing the scratches from Busters claws at the bottom of the door I moaned and slowly went over and cracked it open. Buster slid through, and so did Marcs hand. Large enough to keep me from shutting it on his rings I scowled, refusing to make any eye contact.

“Call me.” I pouted. He gave me a quick look over, his eyes still raged. I was hoping he would least give me a kiss on the head but he didn’t. He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t tell me when he’d be back.

He just turned and left.