Who are you?
A numb hand slicked back through his long strands of highlighted hair. He looks a far cry from his grunge days and getting called, at best, a freak. He always seemed to stand out even when he wanted to hide. The mundane brown, unkempt mess that he kept for years is now hidden under the imitation surfer coif.
Marsh stared into the bathroom mirror, the one lacking his own reflection. His bright eyes dulled by the gray pair glaring back at him. The face appeared dignified and enticing. A face worn well beyond his true years. A face that shrouded his true self. A veil it created.
That of another man entirely.
The flickering lights above were his cue. It had enough power to finish the job. He discarded lingering doubt and stepped out into the lobby. His stride set in motion was calculated. The spit-shined loafers he wore clicked on the marbled floor, emitting a gnawing sound Marsh wholly detested.
The cringing grit of his teeth morphed into a forced smile as he neared the counter. A petite blond peered up to the gentleman approaching, her eager brown eyes scanning the angles of his tailored suit and the smile lines etched into his tanned face.
Marsh looked back at this young woman, closer in age to himself than the man the veil portrayed him as. The one she currently swooned over. Her eyes lacked inhibition. He almost had half a mind to show his disgust when it took over. His body no longer his own. His mouth no longer in control of his voice.
"Good morning there, dollface." Its allure flowed out casually.
"Morning. Can I help you, sir?" She bobbed her head as she spoke, tight curls wringing around her face.
"In more ways than you know." It took an obvious look at all of her small frame and kept the sickly sweet lines coming, "Got a deposit slip for me, love?"
She ate them up. Responding with a provocative lean, "Of course, sir. Right here."
"That's a good girl." Its tone dripped with resonating timbre, deepening as fingertips slightly brushed her hand.
Marsh could have sworn the girl shivered at his voice. He subtly shook his head with a smile, hoping that this endeavor he was talked into is well worth the sickening mental scars. Flipping the slip over, he prepared to write demands. His hesitant hand pulled the ink across the page.
...you will do this...
The voice echoed in the shared space of his head. And the terse reminder worked, this wasn't about him. This wasn't about right or wrong. He had to do this, for his family. A family bereft after the death of his immensely talented sister, the subsequent years of debilitating control it had, the embattled revolt of their once precious remaining child that couldn't protect them. Marsh's guilt rose up and constricted his airway.
...you will succeed...
The shaking hand stilled and he penned out the future. His, and theirs. He slid it to her, a sly smile intact as she read each line.
Her face flushed crimson. Tender gasps escaped her mouth. Her plump lips formed a flat line as her fingers curled around the thin paper. She slowly turned her head, back and forth, then straight to him and nodded. Her wide eyes dared not to betray his intense glower.
Dollface,
Look to your left. Notice their faces?
Now to your right. See them?
Your co-workers are watching you. Stay calm.
They won't hurt you. Not if you do as I say.
You see? I'll be leaving with the money.
All of it.
xoxo
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::