Don't Abuse Mercy

Submitted into Contest #256 in response to: Write about a moment of defeat.... view prompt

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Romance Fiction Sad

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Fiddling with the ring on my pointer finger, I looked at Darcy across from me. There was nothing concrete to warrant our meeting here, if you asked me again, I’d tell you that it was spontaneous. This pastiche mockery of a friendship is enough for us to meet on occasion and why we are still connected at all. 

“How is she?” I spoke first. Apart from our hellos and him mentioning his switch from cappuccinos to straight black coffee, we’ve let the strangers make all the noise. 

“More of the same. Doctors are hoping she dies soon so the bed opens up again,” Darcy stares blankly at the coffee in front of him. Steam tumbling over the lip of the mug and crashing into an immense murder of an explosion on the stale table top. 

“You shouldn’t think like that, you know? Putting all those bad thoughts out into the universe. It could roll over into an omen and she could be dead by dinner.”

“That’s not possible, Mercy. On the count of,--” Darcy shifted up in his seat. “Omens aren't real!” He screamed across the table. 

“Are you going to drink that?” I pointed to the mug of ever blackening coffee. It sat there in its own brand of pretentiousness. I still can’t believe Darcy drinks this now. 

“No,” He shoved it towards me with the thump of his busted knuckles. “Ya gonna spike it now?”

“You know the rules,” I pulled a flask from my inside coat pocket and dumped some amber whiskey into the black void. 

“Your pathetic–”

“How many boys did you beat up this week?” I cut him off. 

“Nine,” He folded his arms over his hands, seemingly suddenly aware of the brutality they’ve faced this week. 

“Well, I hate to break it to ya, but, your morality seems to be as off course as mine.”

“Fuck you,” Darcy watched my chapped lips sipped on the poisoned coffee. 

“If she gets better, would you marry her?” I’m praying to the universe that he says no. The whiskey is already working, I’m a historical lightweight, but while I’m still connected to the booth I’ve settled into, I hope he supplies the answer I’m looking for. 

“Probably,” I feel his eyes settle on my pointer finger. “Did you say yes?” 

My eyes met his on my finger. The ring is composed of a silver band with a small arcade token gem and two smaller ones on either side. It probably cost the bastard only two shifts and whatever money he found at the laundromat. I got to wear the ring as Mike waited for my answer, but I knew the moment I felt Darcy’s fists this morning, what my answer was. 

“No,” I took a long swig of coffee. “Part of me still thinks it will work out with us.” I smirk at his repulsion and take a large sip, letting it burn through me.

“You’ve always been stupid.”

“Was I being stupid that night you hit me?”

“Mercy–”

“No, it’s actually funny. I was content not being involved with anyone this year. You came to me. You entered my home and stole everything from me. Now I sit here and enjoy coffee with you.”

“You’re enjoying this?”

“No. Not anymore now that you’ve brought this up.” My eyes looked to the street. Snow fell mellifluously to the ground as people gripped their coats shut. “When she wakes up, will she forgive you?”

“I don’t know. If she does, I’ll marry her. If not, I guess I could hang up my fists and pride and join you at the bottom of the bottle.” 

“I’m not that easy, Darcy. You’d have to fight off Mike first. And who says I even want to go another round with you? I’ve lost every game we’ve played and had enough black eyes that I forgo eyeshadow entirely.” I down the rest of the cup and open my arms wide. “Means I’ve got more money for fancy clothes and trashy liquor. I’m living the highlife right now, Baby. Plus, I’m hitched to shitbag royalty, that’s gotta count for something.”

“Why’d you meet me then? Why do you call me to come get you from the bars, parks, and trash bins? Huh?” Darcy leaned in closer. “It’s because I might swing you around a little bit, but Honey, you love me.” He smiled victoriously at me. 

The edges of Darcy’s face began to soften from the liquor or perhaps it was the wind chill outside, but when I tried hard to focus on the face across the miniscule table, I saw beautiful near black eyes that caught my attention a year ago. Two twin caverns that I could tumble into again. The ring on my finger was getting looser the longer I let his smile lead the conversation. 

“Not as much as I love this new life I’ve got going for me. Mike loves me. He wouldn’t cheat on me. Or hit me. He just loves me.”

“Does he know you meet me?”

“He knows I’ve got a friend that is going through a rough patch. ‘His pretty little girlfriend is in a coma’. That’s what I tell him.”

“Brooke is a pretty little girlfriend. She cooks, cleans, and is a nurse at the prep school down on Second and Mulberry.”

“Why’d she really get hurt? Be honest. I want to–need to know–if it was just me, that you, uh, tell me.” I pulled out my flask and refilled the mug in front of me. The now empty flask lay on the table like a busted gun, known for its damage but as lethal as a fruit fly. I wrapped my hands around my mug as I watched him lay back in his seat. 

“She was leaving work early one night to come watch me fight at the club and she was running late. So those stupid fucking heels they make her wear, got caught and she fell down the stone steps at the front of the school. Kid that found her heard her yelling for ten minutes before he realized the yelling was from someone right outfront of the school.” 

“Poor pretty girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” Darcy gruffed, pulling the mug from my hands and shoving it off the edge of the table. It clattered to the ground and my hardly earned whiskey pooled like inky black blood under my busted navy heels and his army boots. “Brooke doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“Did I?” Hot dry tears trickle down my face like icicles. “You really love her that much?”

“I think so. I want to be indifferent about the whole thing because when I care I get angry at things and when I get angry at things I get mad and when I get mad I hit and when I hit I–,” His words stopped on the edge of my lips. My tears collected on my covered arms as I desperately waited for him to make this better. Be the prince. “ –win. I fought with you because I knew I’d win. When I fight with Brooke, I’m always hoping I’ll lose.”

He spoke so softly. Like a lamb’s wool, purity and innocent thread through every whispered syllable. I felt the chill of New Years as the door opened and once more we waited in silence. 

“You made me sick!” I screamed across the table. Eyes from all over looked at us. Darcy didn’t flinch and tighten his body as he sealed his face in concrete, he wasn’t going to let me get any more insight into his mind. “I was the pretty girlfriend! I was the gentle creature that didn’t deserve any of this, why was I meant for a fist and her, a ring! Why, Darcy!”

Waitresses started to move in closer to our table and the rest of the restaurant goers balled their hands into fists of resentment from my disruption. Would I be getting a public beating now? Maybe it would make me feel closer to Darcy because ever since I first asked about Brooke, he’s a universe away from me. 

“Mercy, we just didn’t work out. You’re upset and drunk, let me take you back to Mike and your lover can sort this out.” He stood, dropped ten dollars on the table and reached for my hand. 

“No!” I turned to a table next to us. Three older women gather around gripping onto each other’s arms. I picked up the first lady’s coffee and flung it at Darcy. 

“Fuck! Shit!” Darcy coiled back and to his knees in fury. Boiling coffee dripped off his face as he tried to blink it out of his eyes. 

“You two need to leave. I don’t care if you fight, yell, or whatever, but get the hell out of my diner!” Yelled a large line cook from the service window. 

I turned to run towards the door, but clashed to the ground as Darcy grabbed my ankle. Kicking off his weak hold and my shoes, with sloppy large steps I made it outside. Winter barked at my ribs as I leaned against the building to hold me up as I made my way around the corner into the alley. 

I counted two breaths before I lost count. Darcy appeared in front of me like a cloud of smoke. His hands planted on either side of my head. He was looking at me like he used to, before he would kiss me. Before he would swing at me. Before he’d apologize all night. It’s all the same yearning gaze to me. 

“What the fuck, Mercy! You burned my damn face!”

“I know! You made me like this! I was perfectly content with my life and now I barely talk to anyone but you and I drink. That’s who I am now.”

“At least you still dress like a two dollar hooker,” He smiled at his joke. I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I think you might be my best friend.”

“I think I’m your only friend. Mercy, I just don’t think I can do this. I don’t think it’s healthy that we still see each other. We need to stop being friends or at least see each other less.”

“No!” I screamed in unimaginable pain at the thought. My tiny glass heart sent shards throughout my body. I grabbed his shirt and pulled myself closer to him. 

“Mercy, I need space. When we used to meet up to talk, it would be light. I don’t have it in me to run through shitting therapy with you or run back our relationship to see what didn’t work, okay? It all didn’t work.”

“You said earlier that I still loved you, do you still love me?” Please just be nice to me. Be gentle with me, this one time. Show me mercy. 

“I don’t think I ever loved you. That’s why I hit. Is that what you needed to hear to move on?”

I pressed forward and put my lips to his. He didn’t move and grew frozen until my touch and barren under my love. As quick as I touched him he threw me back towards the wall. Out of my mouth left all my air and my resilience against his hurt. 

“Get fucking help, Mercy. I didn’t make you sick! You did that all on your own! I hope you aren’t this stupid forever.”

I sunk down to the ground and watched Darcy leave. I take another hit of anything right now. My flasks or his, any and all to bring me out from under the table I’ve forced myself under. As the snow rained down harder, I mumbled away in white long breaths that hazed over my eyes. 

“Let Brook die tonight. Let Darcy win against me again. Let me have another drink.” Turning my head to the left, I saw a big neon red sign down the long alleyway. “Miss Universe, you’ve got mercy in you after all.”

June 23, 2024 05:43

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