Marcy came back to consciousness with a gasp. Her eyes snapped open and her heart immediately began pounding erratically. She sat up too quickly in an attempt to look at her surroundings. The room was spinning and she felt nauseas.
Axl was sitting on the edge of their bed, his head buried in his hands. He hadn't noticed her wake. The negatives had been ripped up and were lying crumpled on the floor beside Marcy. She glanced over at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since Axl had entered the room in a flurry of rage.
Marcy pushed herself to her feet, only to find her legs were weak and wobbly. The ringing in her ears returned as blood rushed to her head. She stumbled back a couple of steps and banged against the wall with a thud.
Axl's hands dropped and he looked up at her. His eyes were red. The shallow wound on his cheek was still bleeding. He jumped up and moved towards Marcelline, an apologetic smile plastered across his face. "Will you forgive me Marce?" He asked quietly.
All Marcy could see when she looked at him was the way he'd snarled when she had fought back. Her eyes were glued to his hands, which he held before him in a sign of surrender. Marcy's throat burned and ached at the sight of them. She shrunk back against the wall and whimpered. "Don't," Marcy whispered.
Axl stopped in his tracks and cocked his head to the side. "What?" His voice broke.
"Don't touch me." Marcy said, a little more firmly this time.
Axl took another step towards her. She was within arms reach. Marcy's skin crawled and her heart thudded even more loudly than before. "I love you baby," He sounded so sincere. She was afraid she was going to believe it. "I'm sorry." That was the first time he had ever apologized.
Marcy's face remained blank. For so long those three words had meant so much to her. I love you. Why had it taken her so long to realize it wasn't real? It never had been. On either part.
Marcy didn't love Axl. She didn't. She never had. She never would. She wasn't in love with him. She wasn't. She wasn't. She wasn't.
To come to terms with this now, so suddenly, was a strange feeling. Liberating. Marcy knew she could never, ever love anybody who hurt her like he had. Saul had been right.
Of course he had been fucking right. Saul knew Marcy better than she knew herself. And he knew Axl. He'd known what was going to happen and he had tried to help. Marcy was so fucking selfish for not listening.
Saul. He was beautiful. He was smart. He understood Marcy and had always been there for her. Saul had always had the best intentions. She hadn't listened to him. What hadn't she just listened?
"I don't love you Axl." Marcy's voice croaked. It didn't sound like her own. Tears were spilling down her face but she wasn't really crying, not yet anyway.
Axl came even closer. He put his hand out and went to touch her cheek. Marcy flinched away. "Yes you do. You're just saying that." Axl flashed one of his charming grins but his eyes looked sad, like he didn't really believe his own words.
"No Axl, I don't love you." Marcy stepped to the side and slipped from between Axl and the wall. The new space between them sent a wave of relief rolling over her body. She kept expecting him to lose his temper, but he never did.
"I said I was sorry." Axl said bluntly. He was holding back tears and sounded a little desperate.
Marcy ignored him. She had nothing more to say to him. She just needed to get out of that awful room. Away from him.
Axl lunged out and wrapped his hand around her wrist as she turned to leave. Marcy jumped away and yanked her arm out of his grasp. Her skin burned where he had touched. Not the good type of burn. A horrible one that made her want to run somewhere far, far away from here. Back home. Oh god, she missed France.
