Page 40 of The Mission

The moment Mark relaxed his hold just a little, Conrad wrenched free only for Mark to grab his shoulder and shove him hard. Conrad fell against the wardrobe door and cried out in pain.God, that hurt.His cheek had borne the brunt of the collision. He put out a hand to steady himself. If he fell to the carpet, Mark would be on him. He’d wanted to pack up all his stuff and leave. Now he just wanted to leave, but he had to have his boots and coat.And my phone.

Mark reached for Conrad’s face and he reared back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Made yourself bleed.” Mark chuckled. “Clumsy twat.”

“Youmade me bleed.” Conrad could feel blood trickling down his cheek onto his neck. He could see blood on the wardrobe door. If he yelled for help, would anyone hear?

“What you fighting for?” Mark was wobbling in front of him, but at least he wasn’t trying to grab him again.

“I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t know now why I ever did. You could have killed me at the top of that slope. I know you moved the poles.”

When he saw the way Mark’s face hardened, he realised he should have kept quiet about that.

“Fucking liar.” Mark came right up into his space.

“Go to sleep. You’re drunk and high.” More drunk than he’d ever seen him.

Conrad backed away and grabbed his jacket. His boots were by the door. His phone was probably on the floor. He kept glancing down, trying to spot it.

“Where d’you think you going to go? No rooms here. Won’t be anywhere else.”

“I’ll sleep in the lounge if I have to. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”

“You think you’re all that. You’re not. Saintly Conrad.Pfft,” he said mockingly. “Mr Never-puts-a-foot-wrong. Wait until I tell them you’re a thief and a cheat, and take coke.”

“What?” Conrad snapped. “I’ve never stolen anything, never taken drugs and never cheated.”

“All those things you stole and gave me. That wallet.”

“Are you rewriting history? You’re the thief.”

“Take your clothes off and let me fuck you.”

This time when Mark approached, Conrad stood his ground. “You’ll never touch me again.”

He’d hardly finished speaking when one blow from Mark took him down and his head collided with the edge of the wooden bed. For a moment, the room disappeared in a blaze of pain, then came back when Mark stamped on his stomach. Conrad was still struggling to accept what was happening. Part of him wanted to pummel Mark into the ground, another part of him knew that any bruise on Mark would be used to that arsehole’s advantage. He sat up, felt his phone under his fingers and slipped it into his pocket.Thank God for that.

“Just go to fuckin’ bed then, you cocktease. Ugh.” He gave a loud groan.

As Mark lurched for the bathroom with his hand over his mouth, retching, Conrad grabbed his boots and jacket, and fled.

Once he was down the corridor, he put on the boots, though he couldn’t seem to tie the laces properly. Nor could he zip his jacket. By the time he reached the lift, he was shaking. A hand to his cheek and his fingers came away bloody. There was a mirror in the lift and he could see the cut on his cheekbone. It was still bleeding.

Reception was empty. There were no guests around. He didn’t want to stay there anyway. He called Arlo as he stepped outside.

“Hey! Can’t you sleep without me?” Arlo asked.

“Can I come and stay?”

“Of course you can. What changed your mind?”

“Is there someone…who can… fetch me?” He staggered down towards the road. “Not sure I can walk…all that way. No cars around anymore. I don’t feel well.”

“Where are you?” Arlo’s tone was different. “Tell me where you are, Conrad. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. Something. I’m walking towards where you live. I don’t feel…”

“Go back into the hotel and wait.”

---