Friday, February 5, 2021

History of the Trap Vol. 2 - Chapter Two: Dance Party Part 6

 

6

 

“What you doing down here by your lonesome, Marty Martian?”  Coming down the hall was Walter Drayton, his broad body taking up almost half the hallway. As he sauntered closer, I could see that Stevey Wentworth was hidden behind him on one side, and Donald Granite, Mark’s younger brother, on the other side. “Wet your pants, Soap Boy?  You come down to Home Ec to wash your soiled undies?”

This was not good.  I analyzed if  I could rush past them.  The odds were dim, but it didn’t matter.  I was frozen in place.  I couldn’t move.  I tried to speak, and nothing came out.

“Did you get the message from Mama Tigh?”  That’s what they called Morgan Tigh?  Mama Tigh?  I can’t see her being thrilled with that.  I guess if that’s what her killer boyfriend calls her, she just goes along with it.  “You shouldn’t be running to hide.  You should be going to your Daddy for confession od all the lies you told about Mark.”

“I…told…no lies,” I croaked out. 

Stevey guffawed.  “See, Walt D, I knew she couldn’t scare him.  I think it’s time for us to reinforce the message, using our extra special delivery system.” Stevey bunched his right fist up and smacked into his open left hand.

Donald stepped up, inches from my face.  “You need to back of my brother…NOW!”  He punched me in the gut.  I doubled over, barely able to stand.

My standing issue resolved a second later when Stevey unleashed an uppercut to my jaw.  I fell to the ground, the back of my hard-hitting the hard floor. 

The pain was tremendous, but I did not get the blessing of drifting to unconsciousness.  My damaged jaw's pain, my squalling gut, my broken crown, soon paled compared to the pain I know felt by being kicked in the side.  I didn’t even know which one was doing it.

The wide one, Walter, was kneeling over me.  “And now I'm gonna smash your face in.” I tried to lift my arms to guard my face, but my body was no longer responding to signals from my fogged brain.

But the blow never came.  His descending fist was held back by something. “You morons!”  That was Morgan’s voice.  It sounded far away, but it couldn’t have been if she was close enough to hold Walter back. “You’re just making things worse!”

Walter stood up.  “Your sweet talking meant nothing.  He needs to learn his lesson the hard way.”

Morgan was furious.  “I had this in hand.  And now you’ve left him bruised and maybe with bones broken, and how is all that going to be explained?  You’ve just increased the target on Mark, on all of you!  That’s all you’ve done!”

Stevey giggled.  “Maybe he ran into a door!  Or went through the Home Ec’s washer and dryer trying to clean up his pee smell!”  Stevey started laughing out of control until Morgan abruptly slapped him.

“Stop it!” she shouted.  “This is not how Mark would have wanted things done!”

“Isn’t it?” Walter said, smirking.  “I know you’re his lover Mama, but maybe we know him a little better, having hung out with him for years, and you are just this year’s squeeze.”

Morgan balled up her fists, taking a defiant stance.  “Like to test that out?  Want to see whose side he takes?”

That seemed to deflate their aggression. “Ok, Mama Tigh,” Walter said.  They started to leave, and then Walter turned and pointed at me.  “Later, Martian.  You should be grateful Mama showed up.  Next time you might not be so lucky!”

“WALTER!  GO NOW!”  Morgan stood firm, and the three left.  She looked at me, lying damaged on the floor. “You are an extra special kind of idiot, too, running off on your own just after I tried to warn you.”

“You…you can’t tell me what to do.” It was all I could do to speak, and it was more instinct than any rational expression.

“Yes, I can.  And I will,” said Morgan.  She took a step toward me and stared hard at me; her eyes lit up with a combination of anger and fear. “I told you there were things beyond my control.  Now, maybe you’ll take me seriously.”

She huffed off, leaving me broken on the floor.  This person, who was a student nurse, offered me no comfort or aid.  She just left me, bleeding and bruised.

Beyond her control?  What a lie.  What a terrible self-delusion. 

She was responsible.  She lit the match, and I wouldn't forgive her just because she couldn’t control the flame.

 

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