Twisted
9
Elton collapses to the floor crying uncontrollably, as the door closes, totally devastated that his Baby left. Jean the head maid comes into the foyer and sees Elton on the floor and rushes to his side. Elton’s hysterical babbling about his Baby leads Jean to believe her worst fear has come to be. His obsession with Satan himself has finally come to a crashing halt, and she helps Elton to the sofa in the den then frantically calls Joshua, as Elton continues to cry and babbling incoherently.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marshall walks out the
door hearing Elton’s saying he loves him, but keeps control of his emotions as
he explains to Elton’s limo driver Jake, where they’re going and gets in the
back seat, as Jake places his suitcase in the trunk.
Jake takes Marshall to
the hotel, and even accompanies him to his room before leaving, knowing Elton
will want a complete report when he returns home.
Marshall exhausted
crashes on the bed, placing a pillow over his head trying to stop the massive
headache. After that doesn’t work decides Hennessy would be the best cure,
Marshall drags himself into the sitting room and over to the bar and pours a
large drink and kicks back on the sofa and stares at the blank TV screen, then
around the empty room.
“Alright Mr. Dumbass
what are you going to do now that you’re All Alone?” Slim Shady asks, as he
lays his head back on the sofa.
“WELL I Was Thinking
About Finishing This Fifth Then Taking A Sleeping Pill And Calling It A Fuckin’
Life!” Marshall angrily states out loud, to the empty room.
“Cheers Reginald
Kenneth Dwight I Love You.” Marshall sincerely states holding up his glass and
then downing the large drink of Hennessy.
Marshall quickly
refills his glass, and then slowly stands and goes into the bathroom and
showers, as his headache intensifies. After dressing and grabbing the bottle of
sleeping pills from his backpack, Marshall sits down on the bed and pops two,
washing them down with a large drink of Hennessy, and then laying down and on
his back glancing over at the clock and tries to calculate how long it should
take for the sleeping pill take affect, deciding to take another large drink of
Hennessy hoping to hurry the affect.
Marshall rolls around
on the bed trying to get comfortable for over an hour, before settling down
with his arms tightly wrapped around a pillow, with his head slightly on it,
wondering what Elton is doing
The harder Marshall
tries to fall asleep, the more his brain interrupts with thoughts of Elton and
everything that’s happen in the last several months.
After about another
hour of tossing and turning Marshall sits up in the bed, and trying to ignore
his headache gets up and goes into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his
face, before calling the front desk and arranging for a limo.
~
~ ~ ~ ~
The limo pulls up to Elton’s and Marshall nervously gets out, and takes several nervous breathes before entering the house, standing in the foyer for several seconds before nervously walking into the den, looking for Elton. Not finding him in the den Marshall quietly checks several other rooms before heading upstairs to check his bedroom.
With built up anxiety Marshall places his shaky hand on the doorknob, and takes a nervous breathe, before opening the door and entering.
Elton finally in a total relaxed state opens his eyes, that connect with the most mortified expression that he’d ever seen in his life, and frantically struggles to get out of the bed, screaming his Baby’s name.
Totally distraught Marshall stands frozen in his footsteps unable to breathe, at the scene before him, before hearing Elton frantically calling his name and quickly turning and rushing from the room.
Marshall blindly rushes down the hall and large staircase, desperately trying to get away from the voice pleading his name, but comes to a crashing halt at the bottom of the staircase as Jake grabs him by the arm at Elton’s command.
“Let Fuckin’ Go Of Me!” Marshall angrily yells out as he struggles against Jake’s hold on his arm.
“Sorry Mr. Mathers I can’t.” Jake firmly states, tightening his hold on Marshall’s upper arm, as Elton rushes over to them.
“I can explain!” Elton desperately pleads, trying to grab his Baby’s hands as he struggles to break from Jake’s tight hold.
“Please . . . . “ Elton desperately pleads, looking into dark hatetred eyes, and takes a step back.
“Jake! Take Mr. Mathers in the den . . . . I’ll be there in a moment.” Elton states in a sinister tone, looking at Jake then pleadingly looking at his Baby who still has that dark hatetred look in his eyes.
“After you Mr. Mathers.” Jake politely says as he motions for Marshall to move.
“I’m Not . . . .” Marshall angrily begins to say, but Elton interrupts.
“Please . . . . . . Just give me ten minutes . . . . I Love You . . . I can explain.” Elton struggles to sincerely say, looking into the hurt eyes of his Baby.
“Fuck You!” Marshall angrily states, as Jake tightens his hold on his arm.
An eerie silence falls to the room as Marshall and Elton stare at each other, Elton debating on whether to force his Baby with Jake’s help to listen or let him go, and Marshall cussing himself for coming back, as his feels his headache becoming one of his painful migraines.
“I’m sorry.” Elton sincerely says, looking into his Baby’s cold eyes, and then looking over at Jake and nods to the den door.
Once in the den Jake lets go of Marshall, and leaves out a side door as he walks over to the bar and pours himself a large drink of Hennessy, and then lays his head down on the bar, praying the pain will go away.
“Maybe we’ve had enough to drink.” Elton comments in a worried tone, walking into the room behind them and slowly walking over to his Baby, who looks up at him.
“Maybe? Maybe Not!” Marshall coldly mumbles then downs the drink and struggles to pour another, as Elton watches in concern.
“Times Ticking!” Marshall states after several minutes of silence as he lays his head back down on the bar, trying desperately not to make eye contact with Elton.
“Everything is so Twisted that I don’t know where to begin.” Elton nervously explains as he watches his Baby in concern and can tell he’s in pain.
“Twisted? . . . . . Elton! What’s twisted? . . . . . . . The Motherfucker Was Sucking Your Dick!” Marshall angrily states, as he begins sporadically pacing around the room, cussing himself for being so upset about it, but deep down in his heart knowing why.
“Baby . . . It’s not . . . what you think.” Elton tries to explain, as his heart breaks from seeing his Baby so unhappy because of him, as he stops pacing and rubs his eyes, and begins to massage his temples, as he sits down on the sofa and cradles his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the top of his legs as his migraine intensifies to the point that he feels nauseas.
“I’m going to get you something for your headache. I’ll be right back.” Elton softly says walking over to him, and then rushing to the little bathroom that connects to the den, and frantically fumbling through the medicine cabinet, and finding some of his own 50 mg sleeping pills, and deciding that it would be best if his Baby slept, and then quickly grabbing a cold wet washcloth and a glass of water and frantically returning to his Baby.
“Here . . . This it’ll make you feel better.” Elton gently whispers, kneeling down in front of his Baby who’s rocking back and forth still cradling his head in his hands.
Marshall looks up at Elton and slowly takes the pill and glass of water from him, and takes the pill without noticing the type.
“Thank you.” Marshall says in a horse but sincere voice, as he hands the glass back to Elton and begins to stand.
“Please . . . sit still.” Elton sincerely says, and without thinking places his hands on his Baby’s shoulders trying to get him to stay seated, and he flinches from his touch.
“My head hurts . . .” Marshall mumbles, looking at the floor.
“Just sit still for a few minutes. Give the pill a minute to take affect.” Elton soothingly whispers, gently placing his hand under his Baby’s chin and lifting his head up so he can place the cold washcloth on his forehead, and his eyes connect with a very lonely, empty pair, that’s trying desperately not to look directly at him.
“You don’t have to be nice to me.” Marshall mumbles in a childlike tone, as tears run down his cheeks, placing his hand over Elton’s to take the cold washcloth from him.
“Ssssshhhhhh . . . just lay back.” Elton soothingly whispers, and waits for his Baby to lean back and rest his head on the back of the sofa and close his eyes, then begins to gently wipe the tears from his face with the washcloth, as Joshua storms into the room.
~
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