Marco (thatdarnoctopus) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2016-01-18 17:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 017, cecilia, juno, marco |
Who: Marco & Juno & Cecilia
When: 7:30PM
Where: Marco's room, Chase's room, and a couple hallways
Warning: bloody ickiness ahead!
"What the fuck am I doing?" Marco asked himself, not for the first time. He knew that what he wanted to do was a terrible idea. Hadn't Chase warned him just a few hours ago not to come anywhere near him or his room again? And Chase was one of those quiet types, who, out in the real world, would probably be the first kid anyone in high school suspected of bringing an uzi into science class. No part of that sounded good. Still, Juliet had said that Cecilia had given Chase his heroin. His drugs were in Chase's room, and Marco had to decide if he was more afraid of Chase, or more afraid of withdrawal.
In the end, Chase turned out to be the lesser of two evils. Especially when, while on a trip down to the kitchen, Marco discovered that Chase was in the billiard room, and not his bedroom. Marco's stash was in Chase's room, and Chase wasn't there with it.
"What the fuck am I doing?"
Marco wandered down the second floor hallway, to the room under his. For a minute, he just stared at the door. As many good reasons as he had not to go in, his reasons to get high were so much better. The day had gone just about as bad as it could without The Powers That Be throwing some new challenge at them. He'd been chased by Billy, had fallen down the stairs, had his arm twisted by Cecilia, had his freedoms taken away that much more, and he was probably very close to ruining any chances at friendships he had here. He'd really fucked up things with Juno, hadn't he?
Being alone wasn't so bad when you were high.
He took another look down the hallway, making sure it was empty before he made up his mind. He frowned. He felt sick. He could do this, just go in, find his drugs, get out. It couldn't be that hard. He was observant, after all, and already knew the layout. He reached for the doorknob, and twisted. And twisted. And twisted.
"Fuck."
Marco dropped the doorknob like it had burnt him, put his head down, and rushed back down the hall and up the stairs to his room. How the fuck did Chase lock his door if he wasn't in there? Was that even an option? Had he just decided to keep his door locked, and had started using the window to come and go?
…Wait, could he really have used the window?
As soon as Marco got into his room, he went to his own window, the one overlooking the trees next to the house. He looked down, at the roof a floor below. He didn't have a roof under his window, and had never had the desire to sit out on the roof, anyway. But Chase did, and he had spent time out there. Marco had seen it. So, sure, maybe he was leaving through his window. Maybe he jumped down to the backyard, or crawled in through the gym window. It didn't matter, really. It just meant that a window was open.
Oh, this was a very bad idea that was developing in his head.
Jump, a voice told him. Swan-dive. Do it! Out the window. Perfect ten!
Marco ignored the voice, but it wasn't far off. He opened his own window, and stuck his head out, wondering exactly how high up he was from the roof. He took a moment to try to talk himself out of it, but he knew what was coming. He'd start getting the shakes, and he'd be in and out of the bathroom constantly. He'd sweat profusely, but fluctuate between hot and cold. His body would cramp up, and he'd be in constant pain, enough that it would hurt to stand. Cecilia's intentions of weening him off were great, but she couldn't know that she'd have the ability to. In this place, things could change quickly. She could be gone the next morning. Or Chase could. Then where would he be? Where would his drugs be?
He frowned. He needed time to think about it, but if he knew that Chase was gone now then he couldn't wait.
"You're a fucking asshole," he told himself as he lifted one leg and slid it out the window. Then the other, so he was sitting on the sill. At least it's not raining, he thought, then chuckled. That's usually the worst thing to think, right? He carefully turned and held on tight, sliding onto his stomach and lowering himself down until he could feel his sneaker against the top of Chase's window. Then he lowered himself down a bit more. And then…
Right. He didn't really think that part through.
He stood there, gripping the windowsill and struggling to find a foothold. Okay, so it was a bad plan. He could go back up and rethink it, except, well, down was much easier than up, he found. He tried to pull himself back up, but didn't have the upper body strength for it. He tried again, trying to dig his feet into the side of the house so he could hoist himself up. His arms hurt at where skin pulled at his injection points, and honestly, just from trying to pull himself up. He couldn't help but think that maybe he should go to the gym some time as his grip slipped and he finally fell to the roof below. For the second time that day, momentum became his enemy, and even though he'd taken most of the impact on his feet, he then fell onto his back, grunting as his head bounced off the roof tiles.
He cradled his head and curled up in a ball, just laying there for a moment as he tried to let the dull ache pass. This plan had instantly gone from a bad idea, to something he no longer had any desire to do. His head hurt, and somehow he'd managed to lose a shoe, but he couldn't go up, and going down meant risking further injury. He took a deep breath and sat up, considering his options. At this point, it seemed like he had to go in, or else he'd be stuck out there. Fine, so he'd do what he planned on doing in the first place. That wasn't so bad, was it?
"Fuck," he said again as he reached for the window. "Please be open…" And for the first time that day, it looked like something was going his way. The window opened, and Marco found himself smiling.
"Yay," he said softly.
He leaned in, poking his head in, just enough to peek through the closed blinds. He couldn't see jack shit, but that wasn't a big deal. There were a handful of lamps scattered around the room, if he hadn't destroyed them all last time he was there. He leaned in further, trying to at least make out shapes so he could have an idea of where he was. He held the curtains with one hand, putting more weight on it than he should have. They didn't hold, and Marco dropped them before he pulled them out of the wall. He was not coordinated enough to drop them and keep his balance, though, and he fell face forward into the room. He threw his arms out, catching himself on his right hand, then his left forearm, his feet still dangling out the window.
It took a beat, and then, pain.
Marco couldn't tell what he'd landed on, but fuck it hurt. Something was stabbing him. Stabbing him! He let out a choked cry, then a string of curse words, then another cry as he let himself fall the rest of the way into room. What the fuck had he just fallen into?! He pressed his back against the wall and brought his hands up, trying to see what he'd landed on. It was little, and sharp, and fucking stuck in his skin! There was one stuck deep into the meat of his right hand, below his ring finger. Hands shaking, he pulled it out, letting out a little yelp as he did so.
"What the fuck?" he whimpered. The thing was made up of nails, Marco was sure. Sharp fucking points on every side, long enough to hurt. Long enough that the damn thing didn't fall out of his arm on it's own.
His injured hand felt around for the second barbed thing, the one in his forearm, but he pulled away as he felt his hand start bleeding. He threw the one that he'd pulled from his hand across the room, and tried to cross the dark room to the door. He'd wanted the drugs, badly, but it wasn't worth whatever crazy fucking Saw shit Chase had rigged up in his room.
Fuck, it would have been better if he hadn't lost his shoe over the side of the roof.
Two feet to the door, and another god damned nail found a home in his heel. He screamed again, and jumped, and was suddenly falling over something unseen, a cord or a rope, or who cares, he was falling. He put a hand out, catching himself on the door so he wouldn't hit his head again. He'd slammed his foot down accidentally as he tried to regain his footing, and putting his foot down made the nail press in further. He grit his teeth to try to keep from screaming again, with mixed results.
Chase's can alarm went off as Marco threw himself from the room, nearly falling one more time as he did. He didn't stop to shut Chase's door behind him, or to remove the caltrops from his arm or his foot. He just ran, painfully, on his toes, trailing blood up the stairs and to his room.