Onyx

Chapter 2

Image above is how I picture Marcus

Marcus gripped onto the rail of the ship, his nose inhaling the sweet scent of the sea. He relished the view of the waves, a pod of dolphins clicking happily beside the passenger ship. He was glad that Victoria had booked him a ticket on a ship than a flight. Being stuck inside a capsule while being three hundred feet in the air was something that he never wanted to experience again. His fear of heights always getting the best of him.

"Marcus, you're going to end up going overboard if you keep leaning forward like that. Not that I would complain," Robert said, his sandy blonde hair blowing in the sea breeze. He was a handsome young man but his dark gaze said otherwise. his body language screamed danger.

Marcus tutted, tucking a strand of his white blonde hair behind his ear, "As my rival, I can't blame you, but I'll let the judges decide which one of us is the best."

Robert glared at him, "I am the best," he growled leaning into his ear, a hand wrapping around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

"Robert," he rasped, his hands clinging to the arm that threatened to asphyxiate him.

"I will beat you," he snarled, his green eyes vibrant with raw anger. Soon, he let go of his neck, sending Marcus buckling into his knees and gasping for air. When he finally looked up again, Robert was gone.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, sitting on the floor, his eyes staring blankly at the wall, his hands absentmindedly rubbing his throat.

"Robert again?" a familiar voice said through all the haze in which he could only nod.

"Don't let him get to you," Victoria said, making Marcus turn to here. She was a stern,
middle aged woman with brown hair and blue eyes. She was a smart woman but there were things that would rather hide from her, such as the constant verbal and the occasional altercations between himself and Robert. He hated burdening the woman who was almost like a second mother to him, instead he listened to her trying to uplift his spirits, "Between you and him," she spoke, "You're the one that has the natural talent, you wield it with your power. That boy there is unstable. He channels his anger into his music but when he isn't angry he can't do shit."

"You're just saying that because you're my agent and it's your job to make me feel better," he spoke forcing a light hearted chuckle while he pushed himself up and supporting himself against the rail.

"Nonsense kid. You got talent, I merely stating a fact," the woman said before pulling out a
cigarette, "I gotta go and make some calls. Don't go overboard okay?"

He nodded, turning his gaze into the ocean, the playful and carefree mammals jumping about. His fingers itched for his violin and mimic the soothing voices of the waves. His agent was wrong, he didn't wield the talent, in fact it was the simple things that inspired him to create his music. The whistling of the wind or the playful tunes of the birds that nestled outside of his room in the UK.

He could feel the music of the sea build itself inside his mind, muting the chattering noise of
the passengers that walked about the ship, but that dream shattered when his cell rang,
forcing him to answer the call.

"Hello?" he murmured into the speaker, his mother's shrill voice making him wince.

"Honey! It's your mother!"

"Hey mom," Marcus muttered, his body instinctively slipping into the shadows for protection against his mother's incoming verbal onslaught.

"Honestly Marcus? Is this how you greet your mother? The one who gave birth to you and raised you?" she spoke droning on about her importance in his life. She was a proud woman who married a proud man. She was his father's trophy wife, a simple figurine to show off to the public. His father was the coach of city's popular rugby team, someone everyone looked up to. They saw him and his perfect wife, his older brother and then the youngest dysfunctional son whose musical talent seemed to be a hindrance to their picture  perfect life.

"Honey? Are you listening to me?"

Marcus shook his head from the boring monologue in his mind, "Sorry mum. I couldn't hear from the waves. Can you repeat that again?"

A low huff could be heard from the other side, "I said that when you come back from that god awful trip of yours, you clean up nicely and go out on a date with the Peterson girl."

He bit his lower lip, "Mum you know I'm not interested in‐"

"Don't you dare say it Marcus," his mother said sternly, "You're a confused boy. I'm sure a nice date with a good girl will convince you."

Marcus's fingers clenched around his phone, "Mom. I'm gay and there's nothing you can do about it," he snapped before hanging up, his hands trembling with frustration. He should have known better, he's parents would never accept him for who he was, instead they would forever look at his older brother has the apple of their eye. The perfect son.

"I need to play," he whispered pitifully to himself, tears streaming down his cheeks blurring his vision as he made his way towards his room, the violin forever waiting dutifully for his fingers to play along the strings. He wiped the cooling tears away from his cheeks with the sleeve of his thin sweater while his other hand grasped the neck of the stringed instrument before slipping out of the room and returning to his peaceful place near the rail.

The dolphins still clicked happily, their skin glistening beneath the sun, "Please stay and listen," Marcus pleaded softly, the lower bout resting on his collarbone, the chin rest supporting his mandible. He took a deep breath of the sea air, his bow tentatively sliding over the strings while the pads of his fingers pressed against the fingerboard. The delicate and breathy notes, were barely heard before two hands were placed on his back, shoving him over board.

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