Prototype

by Gretchen de La O

  Marshall’s body rose up off the floor as Alejandro pulled him up from the collar of his shirt. His face close to Marshall’s I could smell his aroma fill me as I gasped for a breath.

  “You’re pathetic and not worth my time,” Alejandro said as he let Marshall fall to the floor. I fell with a thud, hitting my head on the base of the floor lamp. I could feel blood mix with Marshall’s hair as it poured from the gash in the back of his head. He started to walk away when Marshall said the words that would kill any hope. My relief turned to terror as I felt Marshall’s fingertips press hard on his chest as he spoke. I expected his hand to move down to the waistband of his pants.

  “And right there is your problem, you don’t know any better. Spain. 1988? I was there.” Marshall watched Alejandro freeze in his tracks. I felt everything I was freeze in Marshall’s body. I looked into Alejandro’s eyes, knowing what Marshall just said were words that were going to draw him in.

  “I don’t know any better?” Alejandro roared. His eyes filled with rage. Marshall struggled to stand up and I felt every part of his body that hurt. Neck, chest, arms and legs all throbbed with the pain Alejandro had unleashed on him just minutes ago. I felt everything Alejandro did to him, and all along he had no idea I was in Marshall’s head.

  “I had to make it look like a domestic dispute. I had to make it seem like I was her husband. She was working for our government and was about to report back to them my connection with Iraq. Desert Storm was over, my business was drying up and I needed to find a new client. I had to keep Grayson Industries viable. That meant I had to eliminate all obstacles in my way, including, Sarah Copland. I went to Spain where she was working a recon job. It was supposed to be easy. I would catch her in the room she rented, end it and leave before anyone knew any different. Instead, she ran down the street and I chased after her. We ended up in front of an apartment complex.” Marshall took a breath, his demeanor changed as he shifted his stance.

  “Stop, just stop, Marshall … you win, I give up … please stop.” I tried to communicate to him.

  “Your brother, he should’ve stayed out of it. Instead, he had to be the hero. If he had just walked away, but he didn’t. To be sixteen and have the ability to be so selfless.” Marshall shook his head as he stared at Alejandro.

  “No! You selfish son of a bitch. Don’t do this, Marshall. Don’t!” I screamed at Marshall. I watched as Alejandro’s expression drained of all color. Suddenly, what I saw was a broken man, the same man that told me the story of his brother’s death. His eyes raked with misery. His whole body looked dejected and misplaced. I saw the arrested space in his soul fill with hatred. The space created by the monster I happen to be occupying. I wanted to escape Marshall’s prison, I wanted to grab Alejandro in my arms, hold him, heal him, kiss him so every painful feeling he was experiencing would vanish in my touch. I just wanted to take him home safe with me.

  I hated Marshall, I despised everything he represented. He was the devil himself ascending from the pits of hell. “I hate you … do you hear me? I’d live a thousand lives wrapped in the confines of a five-by-five prison cell if it meant you would take your last breath at my hands.”

  I felt Marshall’s body as it became content with the pain he inflicted on Alejandro. Confidence swirled from his abdomen, uncontainable energy radiated through him entirely, but it wasn’t enough. I felt the vile words exit out of his mouth; I wanted to stop him but I couldn’t. He spewed venom from his forked tongue.

  “No witnesses. I felt the blade push into his chest, cracking his ribs. It was suppose to be her … but he stepped in front. I will never forget the strength I had to use to pull my knife from his body.” Marshall’s eyes wicked as he looked at Alejandro. His hand rested full on the gun at his waistband. I tasted every vulgar word as it poured from Marshall’s mouth. My body felt every moment of his disgusting satisfaction as he broke the spirit of the man I love.

  “Please, stop, just stop, stop, it’s killing him. Why can’t you stop?” I cried to Marshall, knowing full well he wouldn’t listen.

  No words came from Alejandro’s mouth as he lunged forward and swung frantically at Marshall. I felt Marshall pull back his head, making Alejandro swing at the empty space. I didn’t recognize Alejandro’s eyes as he swung and thrust his way toward Marshall. Marshall laughed and I felt the horrid satisfaction rise from his belly when he realized he was torturing Alejandro with his words. Unraveling Alejandro’s pain one vicious word at a time. I saw death in Alejandro’s eyes; I saw that he was going to kill Marshall.

  Alejandro’s fist connected with Marshall and I felt his body fall back. Marshall’s hand off the gun as he landed hard, I could feel the vibration radiate from my insides out and across the hardwood floor. Alejandro’s knees pinned Marshall’s arms down at his sides and I watched as he pulled his rock hard fists back and slammed them down onto Marshall’s face; my face. Before the first one left, the next one came crashing down. Pain radiated through my bones, causing ripples of devastation across my heart. Blood filled my mouth, draining into the back of my throat from my nose. My eyes puffed up and filled with tears, to the point where I couldn’t see anything but an outline of a dark figure that stopped moving. I was scared of Alejandro, scare that he was going to kill Marshall and in turn kill me. My lips stung and burned as they swelled with blood. His weight shifted off my chest as he pulled his face close to Marshall’s ear and spoke to him.

  “Por último la muerte de mi hermano será reivindicado, ir al infierno hijo de puta.”

  Finally my brother’s death will be vindicated, go to hell you son of a bitch.

  The words flowed through my mind, and for the first time I translated all the words Alejandro said; only too late to make a difference. I shattered under his words. Nothing would vindicate his brother’s death; nothing was going to bring Vincente back. His hands clutched at Marshall’s throat; my mouth went dry and the familiar pain of being strangled rose in my body. I could feel Marshall trying to say something as Alejandro increased the pressure around his neck, squeezing the life out of both of us. I wish I prayed, wish that God would listen to my words, answer my requests, but he won’t, not this time … I relinquished to the idea that God’s going to let me die at the hands of Alejandro and just like the pinprick said, except instead of dying tomorrow … I will die today by asphyxiation, December fifth, two thousand thirteen.

  “Lauren, do you see what he’s capable of? Do you feel the pain? I hope so―” Marshall whispered out loud. The pressure across my neck lightened, but wasn’t gone. He continued whispering loud enough for Alejandro to hear. “This pain, Lauren, this pain is the pain you’ll know forever, just like the prototype in your head. Forever.”

  “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” I scream at Marshall until my lungs begged for a breath. Muted in his head, I knew my voice wasted on him, but I didn’t care, I needed to release. I needed to get out the anger.

  My mind hurt, my body was battered, and the man I loved was the one unknowingly hurting me. I wanted Marshall to die with so much pain he’d go to hell for relief. I wanted him to pay for everything he’s done to Samantha, Roger, Doctor Finway and me.

  I tried to make sense of what he was saying. I couldn’t breathe and my eyes were swollen shut. I felt Marshall’s hand reach to the front of his waistband and pull the gun free. It was cold and heavy causing my arm to ache. I felt the gun thrust hard against the side of Alejandro’s head. Marshall’s finger pulled back on the trigger; the pressure increased as I heard the hammer of the gun engage and felt Marshall’s hand twist. The kick back as the bullet left the barrel was sickening.

  “Noooo!” I screamed in Marshall’s head. I couldn’t lose Alejandro. No, you’re not supposed to die … it was me … I was the one that was supposed to die … not him!

  The room went dark and my body pulled away from Marshall.

  I was still screaming as I felt my consciousness return to my room. My heart pillaged by my darkest fears. I can’t lose Alejandro;
I couldn’t lose another man I loved. My skin burned, as if acid was slowly eating away at me.

  “God, if you are mercy, if you are anything … please, please tell me Alejandro is alive, that Marshall didn’t take the only reason I want to breathe,” I slurred, determined to talk out loud. Determined to make my words more powerful than the reality that Marshall just pulled the trigger and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Tears flooded my swollen eyes, pouring down my cheeks and across my damaged lips.

  My eyes were heavy; too heavy to open. Now, disconnected from Marshall my mind reeled in torment with the visions of Alejandro lying somewhere, bleeding to death … I tried to get up, but felt different this time. I felt a wetness flow from my nose and a pain in my head pounding strong across my jaw and down the back of my neck. What happened? Why am I feeling this pain outside of Marshall’s head? I reached my hands to my eyes; they were hot and swollen shut. I tried to open them but couldn’t. My neck muscles started to spasm as I lift my head from my bed. My arms and legs weak under my movements I struggled into my bathroom. Impossible to see where I was going, I relied upon the familiarity of my house.

  I pushed the door open and stumbled to the vanity. I had to see what Alejandro had done to Marshall, to me … I was unrecognizable, even to myself. My lips huge with blood pockets, my nose twisted and flattened on the bridge, my vision blurred by my swollen eyelids. I couldn’t tell if there were bruises across my arms and shoulders, but it felt like it. My body became too much for my legs to hold, I stumbled back against the wall. The last thing I remembered, my legs folding under me and sliding down to my feet, my face cold against the white tiled floor screaming for the man that damaged me, terrorized by the unknown fate of the man who had captured my mind, body and soul.

  I knew he was coming for me. Not because he told me, I could feel his presence draw near me. I never sensed someone’s arrival before. It was like we were connected by intuition. I heard the smelly letters spread flat across the hardwood floor as he pushed my front door open. His rubber-soled shoes weighing light as he walked. He never called my name, but I could hear him stop at each room. My eyes still shut not wanting to face what I knew was bad. I had spent the last couple of hours on my bathroom floor and my body paid heavily for it.

  The door swung open, my eyes still closed, I heard him gasp and the bones in his legs drop against the tile floor. His hands rubbed at my shoulder and pulled back the hair from my face. I could hear him push his face toward mine. Suddenly hope was thrust through my veins … carrying away my hardened fear. There was a chance I was going to live, and maybe even function as a normal human being some day if Roger could fix me. But I didn’t want it if Alejandro was dead. I didn’t want to breathe if he wasn’t with me.

  “Lauren, can you hear me? Lauren, who did this to you?”

  A sense of relief rushed my skin as his voice filled my ears. I couldn’t open my eyes or talk to him, but I knew Roger wouldn’t stop asking until I answered. My throat sore and my body unforgiving, I tried to speak. He bent closer.

  “Alejandro,” I slurred without moving my blood swollen lips or my dislocated jaw. It hurt so bad to pluck those words from my throat.

  “Lauren, who did this to you?” He still had his face pushed forward. His hand moved in a circle on my back. “Did Marshall?”

  “No, Alejan—” My voice broke and I couldn’t talk. Memories of what I last remembered flooded my mind. The feeling of Marshall’s gun pressed firm against Alejandro’s head, my finger pulling back on the trigger until it hurt, the sound of the hammer engaging and then nothing. Tears pushed past my beaten eyes, collecting in the crevices of swollen skin and broken cartilage as I lay on the cold tile floor.

  My life was done. Over. Gone.

  “Alejandro did this to you? I’ll kill that son of a bitch.” His body vibrated and I could feel his anger consume every part of who he was. Sometimes, one protests too much, could it be that he had some guilt? Guilt that he nurtured by inventing the precise technology that facilitated these exact results. I reached for him with my free hand. His anger wasn’t going to help me stand up. I needed his help to stand up. I wanted to get off my bathroom floor.

  Roger helped me to my feet, pain exploded, through every part of my body. My hand pressed hard to stop the sharp debilitating pain in my neck, my other captured my jaw to stop the throbbing. I knew I was in bad shape, and I had come to terms on the bathroom floor that if I was going to be disfigured forever, at least I would be reminded every day of what I lost. I was alive, and it was going to be for nothing without Alejandro. A spastic energy swirled in my gut and torn up through my heart, taking out my lungs and the cries burst from my mouth.

  “Shhh, Lauren, it’s okay, I’m going to take you to the doctor. We’ll get you all fixed up, better than new.”

  Better than new … words you say for used up and worn out appliances. I pulled myself together enough to shuffle down the hall with Roger.

  “Let’s go. Take me to Marshall’s house. I need to find Alejandro.” I push up from the wall, my heart beat at a panic pace.

  “I think you should see a doctor,” Roger piped up.

  “It will be too late; he might be dead by then.” I stumbled toward my front door. I was determined to get to Marshall’s house. All the seconds counted, the hours I was on the floor didn’t make the possibility that I will save Alejandro. What if he bled out? What if he is close to death and I just get to him a little quicker I can save him? Have him in my arms again.

  I looked over at Roger as he studied my face. Confusion mixed with concern blanketed his expression.

  “This isn’t Alejandro’s fault. I was in Marshall’s head when they got into a fight.” I sounded a little clearer as the swelling in my lips diminished.

  “This happened while you were in Marshall’s head? Using Marshall’s recorder? Alejandro did this to Marshall―to you?” skepticism weaved through his voice.

  “Marshall contacted me. He was in his library with Alejandro. They fought, Marshall held a gun to Alejandro then I blacked out. That’s why I need to get to Marshall’s house, now! Please … will you please take me? I just need you to drive me there.”

  I tried to make eye contact with him. My neck rippled spasms as I clung to his arm. His eyes became constrained, the corners of his mouth wilted toward the horizon of the room.

  Tears welled in my eyes, the immense pain and fear of Alejandro being dead owned my whole body and mind.

  “Please Roger, I can’t lose him … I can’t breathe without him. I have to do this.”

  Roger’s focus became fixed as he whispered, “Marshall Grayson.” He was still for a moment. Then spoke out loud, “Connect with Marshall Grayson.” His eyes, preoccupied and filled with doubt, shifted around the room. What was he seeing? His eyes grew big as he mentally came back to the room. He grabbed my arm and helped me out my front door.

  My eyes stung at the morning sun, the needle piercing pain was unbearable. I pulled my head to his shoulder trying to hide from the poison that easily found my weakness. He held me motionless, his body stiffened and I heard him mumble angry words under his breath. I was sorry I became such a burden to him, but I needed to get to Marshall’s and I wasn’t in any state to drive.

  I felt his arms cradle me, protectively, possessively. I tried to look up but couldn’t, the sun was bright. Roger shuffled me over to my wooden porch swing. He lowered me to sit, my hands sprung up to my eyes, trying to create barriers from the sun. I could hear Roger breathe heavy. I felt his lips press on my hair by my ear and tell me to stay. I tried several times to pull my hands away from my eyes with little progress.

  “Roger, you need to take me.” I pushed my face to the sky as I spoke up to him. He ignored me and spoke to someone else.

  “You—I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit. You killed Marshall and now what? You come here to finish the job?” Roger’s voice became frantic. I heard his feet shuffle across the porch away from me.

  �
�Roger, what’s going on? I can’t see. Who are you talking to?” I forced my eyes to slightly open, just enough to make out a dark outline of a person standing at the bottom of the stairs. I blinked, trying to clear enough of the stinging pain away to find out who he was going to kill.

  “Lauren! Oh, mi dama! Let me by.” Alejandro bellowed as I heard his feet shuffle and mix with Roger’s.

  My mind flushed with confusion. Visions of his face as he hit me flashed in front of my eyes. The rage and complete hatred that radiated from his body when he was hitting Marshall was chilling. Was he here to kill me? Did he kill Marshall? Was he coming back for me? Questions pressed my mind at the same time flashes of our time together crushed against my heart. I wanted to touch him. Feel him. Was he real? He was keeping his promise.

  “Like fucking hell if I’m going to let you by. I trusted you with her … and look at what you did.” Roger was blocking the stairs and not allowing Alejandro up on the porch. I felt my voice rumble from deep inside my throat.

  “Roger, let him up. He isn’t going to hurt me.”

  “How do you know, Lauren?” I could hear him turn to me.

  “She knows me,” Alejandro said.

  “Please, Roger, trust me.” I changed my tone to soothing. I heard Alejandro push through Roger.

  “I’ll be right here, watching,” Roger called.

  I felt the wood boards on the porch vibrate as Alejandro hurried his way to me. My eyes slightly open, I could see it was him. It was my Alejandro in the flesh. I felt the heat from his body reach me as he kneeled in front of me. He pushed my hair back from my face; fear climbed into my chest and pulled the strings of my pain.

  “Lauren, sweetheart.” He took his other hand and parted my knees pulling his body close to me, careful not to touch me. I flinched, at his touch.