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Apathy, Chapter 37 End of an Era

August 18, 2020

The screaming didn’t stop, nor did the curse words, as Marco swerved around, over, and upon just about every object he could see. He felt the breath of his consequences just inches from biting him in the ass. The sweat profused to the point that it was becoming hard to see, and this goddamn woman is yelling in his ear. It was all too much to bear. He could have sworn that he heard somebody say, “Shut your goddamn mouth, bitch!” But he couldn’t be sure. The panic was consuming as it swarmed around him, and he felt that if this tunnel vision were to continue, he would pass out. The car drove through a white picket fence, and sadly, Daisy knew better than to expect a peaceful end of events. She thought about all the dead bodies that were festering in the sun- if she would survive this car ride, she would definitely not survive the brutality that awaited her. Right when she was about to start praying, she felt her temple crack under the pressure of Marco’s fist. The next sensation was the crack on the passenger side window as her head failed to go through the glass.

A million things ran through her head- it wasn’t until the garage door shut behind the car that she could smell the rotting corpses wafting in from the upstairs- she was back at Marco’s house. She found it difficult to contain herself. It was boiling in her, and it took every ounce of her strength to keep herself sane.

“What are we doing back here?” She asked as she dabbed the blood from her temple.

“I need to grab a few things.” The car door slammed behind Marco. The disgust was piling onto her psyche when he returned to the garage. They couldn’t hear the helicopter and the police sirens seemed to be off in the distance.

Daisy opened the door and asked, “What are-”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m trying to think! I mean, we can’t just leave. Not now.”

“With those bodies upstairs?”

“Better than the massacre we just came back from.”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

Daisy couldn’t express herself yet, and it just fueled her anger when Marco insisted on being in the bathroom with her while she tried to summon something to piss. The first-floor bathroom was small- a sink, a toilet, and a shower with a rigid glass door, so Marco leaned against the door. She imagined a single quick, skillful attack to put that glass in Marco’s head. She bit her lip because she could hear his throat gargle on…

“You like that shit, huh? It gets you going?” Marco said as Daisy slumped out of her vengeful fantasy. She hadn’t realized that he had been talking this entire time, and it sickened her to notice the hard cock in his pants. There were severe malfunctions in this bitch bastard, and she didn’t want to be in a room with him any longer. She knew that she would have a hard time just leaving, seeing as he followed her into the bathroom- so, she stewed. The time would arise eventually, but until she could figure how to liberate herself, she would be stuck with this man.

She was sick to her stomach, and as the hours passed, she felt herself getting even sicker, especially since the death that was in the air didn’t seem to have a smell anymore.

“So, what’re we going to do? Just wait here?”

Marco poured what was left of the whiskey into a glass and sniffed it before saying, “Where can we go? It’s a death trap out there.” He was too calm for her to feel comforted.

“I know they’re probably looking for us, but we could change. Walk somewhere. I mean, the cops were looking for the car. Doesn’t mean that we’re stuck here indefinitely.”

“It’s getting dark. I’m not going out there, at a time like this, at night. We’ll be asking for it.”

“Asking for it?”

“We’ll stay here. I mean, we got booze and uh… some snacks. Just wait it out. We can go somewhere tomorrow.”


“It’ll be worth it tomorrow. It’s too dangerous now.” As Marco poured the last of a 2-liter bottle of soda into his glass, a sound echoed through the house- it was a heavy thwack of flesh and floor, which kicked up a new smell that filled each corner of the room. Tears rolled down Daisy’s face. The gruesome violence that once was was now dribbling down the hardwood floor hallway and little by little down the stair. She nearly threw up when she saw the damage on the ceiling from the upstairs vengeance that started to seep through the floor. The stain was human-shaped if that meant anything.

“I can’t stay here.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Like hell, you are.”

“You’re going to stop me?”

“I’m not going to just let you leave.”

“So, you’re kidnapping me?”

“It’s for your own benefit. You’re safe here with me.”

“You and the two goddamn dead bodies upstairs.”

“Yeah, I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“‘Cause we’re going to stay here. I’ll put on a movie or something, so let’s get drunk.”

There was nothing that she could say. She wasn’t going to change his mind, and it infuriated her to no end to know that he had this command over her, but she wasn’t sure of what he could be capable of. She wondered about her life before all this shit went array. What would have been of her brother and father? Where the hell is her father? She knew that she should have stayed, but it was too much, and now she felt the weight of her decision way on her shoulders like a lead vest. Why did she let this man do what he pleased with her? What was the point of it all? The mania that the world had been in was a depressed panic that lingered. It wasn’t a fear of the end, but the fear of after the end. As if we would be so obliged to have thought after we die. No, what matters is that we have a will to survive, but on the macro-level of our galaxy, we’ve hit the end of an era.

It was all too apparent, and I am so goddamn tired of people telling me what I can and can’t do. I can’t do this shit anymore. And there he was, just staring at me, waiting for an answer, and I somehow mustered a nod, and I asked for a beer. I wasn’t about to drink anything that he had opened already, and there he went and popped the cap off of a Bud Light- the son of a bitch. I stared and awaited some sort of shinanigans- nothing. OK. I can drink this.

“What do you want to watch? I have-”

“Something funny.”

“OK, let’s see.” He glanced back and forth through a rack with DVD’S and Blu-Rays that seemed to be uncomfortably high when he said, “What about Zombieland?”

I was a lost for words, but apparently, my eyebrows did the talking, and he decided to put on Shaun of the Dead. By the time he sat down, I had stood up to grab another beer.

“You don’t want any whiskey? We have Vodka.”

“I’ll stick to beer for now.” He had a bottle opener on the counte, which laid next to a bottle cap. It was pried off of my drink, and all I could think of was that this motherfucker is so goddamn excessive, they’re twist-offs you dickhead. I took two beers and the bottle opener with me to the couch and placed the bottle opener between my legs. If I was going to have an altercation with this bitch, well, I am going to have something to defend myself. The pit of my stomach roamed within my body as I attempted to plan an exit strategy from this hell hole. Marco seemed comfortable enough to be enjoying the movie, and within the few times that he had gotten up to fix himself another drink, I had asked for more beer. So, by the time Queen started playing on the jukebox in the movie, I had four or five empty bottles in front of me and no clue as to how the fuck I am supposed to get rid of this asshole.

My head was beginning to numb, the thumping in my head started to subside due to the substance, and I could think, what I would consider, as clear as I could possibly imagine.

Just then, I heard him say, “You wanna see something cool?”


“Let’s go in the backyard.” It felt wrong, but I followed him to the backyard. I was still gripping a beer in each hand when he pulled out a bow. “Have you ever shot a bow before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Here,” he handed it to me and said, “Feels like an end of the world weapon.”

It occurred to me to shoot this motherfucker, but I couldn’t. Knowing me, I’d miss, and then what? He’d kick my ass? Kill me? Rape me? I didn’t want to take such a risk. I looked at him long and hard and at the bow. I asked, “Where’s an arrow?”

“The quiver is behind you,” he said with a smirk on his face.

So, I took an arrow and shot it up into the air haphazardly and said, “I think we’ve got to figure out what’s happened to my dad.”

From → Apathy

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