Page 62 of Marek

Maybe you’re not aware it happens?

It’s only when I hear my cries, that I know it’s not possible that I’m gone. I can feel the dirt beneath my cheek as I lay on the ground, wailing. It’s a terrified wail, one of fear and shock, but I can’t seem to stop it. Cool hands grip my shoulders, and then I’m being hauled up. I come face to face with Alexis, who is saying something I can’t hear.

My eyes move around, but they’re blurred with dirt and blood.

The man who was holding me is on the ground, blood pouring from his head, his eyes wide open and staring into nothingness.

“It’s okay,” Alexis soothes, pressing my head into her as she sits behind me, rocking me until my ears stop ringing, and my cries die down.

“W-w-what,” I gasp, shaking my head in confusion.

“We came back because I forgot my purse after the show, and lucky we did. We saw everything go down. Western shot that man. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Marek?” I whisper.

She looks up, and then a moment later, she moves away from me and is replaced with Marek. He stares down at me, kneeling in the dirt, his hands stretching out for my face. He swipes mybloody hair back, then he’s pulling me closer until I’m crushed against him. He doesn’t say a word, not a single word, but this moment is the exact moment that everything changes. I feel it deep inside me.

I clutch him, hanging on as tightly as I can, my body trembling.

Marek pulls me back, his hand on my chin, staring down at me as he swipes my hair back again, his fingers running through the blood on my face, as if trying to wipe it away. Then, he leans down, and his lips capture mine. He kisses me with such force, my breath gets stuck in my lungs as he clutches me close, his mouth moving over mine in frantic desperation.

I can taste my blood, and dirt, but none of it matters.

He kisses me until I forget that there are people around us, that someone just died, that I nearly lost my life.

I just kiss him, deep and long, relishing in the feeling of his hand on my chin, so forceful, so strong.

When he pulls away, there is something different in his gaze.

An emotion I’ve never seen.

Compassion.

“She needs to have her head looked at,” Western mutters. “Take her in. We’ll deal with this.”

He kicks the dead body on the ground, unbothered.

Bikers.

Marek nods, pushing to his feet and bringing me up with him. He extends a bloodied hand, and Western takes it, giving it a quick shake before turning and pulling out his phone. Marek doesn’t release my hand even for a second as he leads me back to the RV, still not having spoken to me.

When we’re inside, he sits me down and goes to collect some things he’ll need to clean me up.

I watch him the whole time, my eyes following his every move, and when he’s in front of me again, wiping the blood awaywith a wet cloth, I can’t help reaching out, my fingers stroking down his cheek. He flinches, but for the first time, he doesn’t pull away. He lets me run my fingertips over his skin, over the scars, over his beard, and he doesn’t push me away.

“Did you mean it, when you said it meant something?” I whisper.

His eyes meet mine. “I’m not a good man, Ellie Mae.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

“Yes.”

His answer is simple, but to me, it’s bigger than this entire world.

It swells my heart.

“Can you stop pushing me away,” I ask, my eyes searching his face. “We could do something amazing here, together. I don’t want you to keep hurting me, I just want us to explore whatever this is.”

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