Missing Martha

106

"Hey I'll drive the rest of the way." Said Ryan, standing up and walking to the driver's seat.
"Are you sure?" Asked Martin, still gripping his cramping hand.
"It's no problem- just follow the satnav, Yeah?" Assured Ryan,
"Yeah, Yeah it'll lead you there. Thanks a billion, mate." Martin replied, sitting down in the back seat beside Zoe who had a blank expression and looked out the window.
"Look... Zoe, I'm really sorry." He whispered.
She faced him with a pale face, "How'd you hurt your hand? Is it broken?" She asked him,
"It was a long time ago, never got it seen to." He told her, his hand slipping down her waist.
"How?" She reinforced, he refused to meet her gaze as he uttered,
"It's stupid."
"Martin, if you want me to marry you, I want you to tell me everything." She said.
"-I think you better just tell her-" Intruded Ollie.
Martin shook his head, "I was about fifteen, eh, I was in school- with a girl, just in the courtyard, and we were.. Y'know."
"-snogging?" Suggested Jemma.
"Yeah, something like that. Anyway we got caught and the principle rang my parents.. and I went home and.. yeah."
Zoe's lips parted slightly,
"Did they-"
"No more questions, please." Martin breathed, looking down,
remembering all of those events of abuse from his parents in just snippets,
"How." Zoë repeated earnestly for the third time.
Feeling sick, but knowing he had to tell her, for the sake of their relationship. He pressed his lips close to her ear so that the others wouldn't hear him shakily whisper, "they knocked me out and ran over me in the jeep."
Zoe pulled back with a gasp,
"W-What?! H-how.. d-didn't you call the police?!"
"Nah, they had it all fixed, if the police were called that girl I kissed was dead." He explained, chewing his lip, "Look Zoe it's over now, it was over a long time ago."
Zoe shook her head, "that's just.. disgustingly horrible.. I- I can't even comprehend-"
Martin placed his hands on her cheeks, moving her hair behind her ears and staring her straight in the eyes.
"Zoe.." he began, but she wouldn't focus,
"Zoe, look at me." He pleaded,
"But- But they hurt y-"
Martin smashed his lips against hers, his hands spread on her hot cheeks as he felt her mouth mould around his before they split apart.
"You listening now?" He asked her, etching a smile while he looked at her surprised eyes in her nodding head. "I am thirty years old, I am fine."
"why would they do that to you?" She breathed,
"Because I 'cheated' on Emma, and they knew I adored playing music so they thought the biggest punishment would be to run over my hand so I couldn't play again, but guess what? I still can. Zoe, honestly you're getting all worked up 'cause you're pregnant and maternal instincts and all that jazz but I'm grand!" Martin Insisted,
"You were bloody assaulted!" Zoë shouted,
"So were half the people in this van!"
"Would you two shut up?!" Yelled Ryan from the front seat.
Martin and Zoe leaned back against their seat and sighed, looking over to each other closely examining their countenances.
"Are you gonna break up with me?" She asked him, biting her lip.
"No I'm gonna marry you." He replied, quickly kissing her forehead, "but first I'm gonna go to sleep."
From the front he could hear the murmur of Jemma sighing, "what a weird couple.."

Martin was back in his childhood bedroom. The walls were white and the room was small, with plain sheer curtains and a single creaky bed in the corner of the cold, unheated room along with a heap of clothes stacked in a broken cupboard he used as a wardrobe.
Martin lay in pain in the bed, any tears he was capable of crying had already been long cried long ago.
He had bruises all the way around his neck, his cheeks were swollen from the many blows to the face he had stood, his right ankle was dislocated, and his mother was the one to relocate it. Not to mention his hand, his left hand was barely recognisable as a hand. He couldn't even move it or touch it without cringing in utter agony.
When the door knocked Martin stirred, no one had spoken to him in over twelve hours. It was Emily who entered, she was beautiful when she was young. Her hair was a lighter brown, which she had braided to one side, and she was still wearing her black coat which was speckled with snow from the winter weather.
"I guess it's time for another romantic date-" she began before she saw Martin lying in bed covered in blood and bruises.
"Oh my god, Marty; what happened?!" She gasped, running over to him,
"I'm sorry, Emma.." he muttered with a lisp from his inflamed lower lip.
"Don't be sorry, Jesus what have they done to you?" She cried,
"I kissed someone in school and got caught out. They told dad." Martin admitted, but Emily didn't look the least bit offended.
"Your hand.." she began,
"I'm never gonna be able to write again, or play piano or guitar or violin or anything!" Martin sighed, his eyes beginning to water.
"I can't believe they went this far. Music means the world to you!" Exclaimed Emily, sitting on the bed beside him.
"You're supposed to mean the world to me, nothing else."  Martin muttered, looking down.
"You're my best friend, Martin. But nothing more.. I mean, I'm beginning to think we really are going to have to get married in the future."
Martin placed his aching head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling before the door opened again,
"Emily we have to go, kiss Martin goodbye!" Exclaimed Emily's father, George.
With reluctance Emily leant down and gently kissed Martin's forehead.
"What was that? He's your future husband; lips!" George pushed,
"He's not well." Defended Emily,
"Then neck!"
Emily felt like crying as she pressed her lips against Martin's bruised neck and quickly pulled away.
"What's going on here?" Asked Martin's mother, Julia, "wake up, Martin!" She Shouted.
"I think he's fainted from the pain, haven't you given him anything?" Asked Emily,
"He's fifteen years old! Not two!" She clapped suddenly and Martin's eyelids slowly parted in response.
"Kiss your wife!" Julia yelled, slapping his face.
"She's not my wife she's my friend." He moaned, rebelling constantly against his mothers reasoning, who, in response hit his painful left hand harshly.
With reluctance, the teenagers pursued the daily ritual of slowly kissing each other, with their eyes wide open, wanting to be far away from anywhere they'd ever been before. Just anywhere away from this hell.