Score: Apologize - One Republic

Mark

The ringing in my ears is silencing the rest of the world out, while the blinding pain in my temple is making me see dark circles before my eyes.

Suddenly, I am a deaf, blind man.

A second passes, before I can actually feel anything at all. The cold droplets of rain, hammering on my face and my already-soaked clothes, now feel like a balm to my burning skin. My cheek is pressed into the gravel underneath me and I can feel the prickling of the tiny rocks, being pushed into my skin.

I tilt my head slightly, struggling to open my eyes, rainwater trickling inside my eyes. I can see a figure, looming above me. It takes a few seconds to realize who that is.

Motherfucker!

And then I hear it. A scream tears the fog in my brain, piercing through the ringing in my ears, and landing me, literally face-first into reality.

Lydia.

Shit! I hope she's alright!

I lift off the ground, opening my eyes fully and looking up at her.

She's alright. She's fine.

She looks like she's about to faint, her face twisted in horror, but she's OK. She takes a step forward as if to step in between Patrick and me, but then, I see figures moving behind her and Nate's strong arms wrap around her waist and drag her back, lifting her off the ground. She tries to fight him off, but Nate is too tall and strong for her small frame.

Gloria, Liam, and Alex are rushing through the front door, running towards us in the driveway.

Time seems weirdly distorted, as I don't know whether this whole scene happens in hours, or in less than ten seconds.

Then, I feel Patrick's hands grab me by the front of my hoodie and lift me up, to my feet. I wobble, trying to stabilize myself on my feet, but then, another fist, expertly planted into my jaw sends my head jerking backward and I would have fallen to the ground, if it wasn't for Patrick's other hand, holding me in place.

"Patrick, stop!" I hear Lydia's screams coming from up front, but I'm still blinded by the pain, shooting through my face. I can taste copper on my tongue, a tell-tale sign that I have bitten the inside of my cheek on impact.

My vision clears just in time to see Patrick's fist flying toward my face again. I duck my head, avoiding his punch this time.

And then, I feel the adrenaline kick in. My vision clears to a perfect crystal clear, and my peripheral vision expands, helping me take in my surroundings. I feel the blood rush into my arms and legs. My movements become swift and calculated, my shoulders slumping and my hands shooting up to where Patrick's holding me by the hoodie, ripping it off his hold. I duck down and grab him by the waist, pushing us both to the ground. Patrick's back hits the wet gravel and I land on his chest, straddling him.

I swing my arm back, preparing to land my fist right into the motherfucker's face, but then I hear Lydia's scream.

"Please, Mark!"

My hand freezes in the air. I look up just in time to see Lydia take advantage of a second's worth of loss of focus from Nate. She kicks back, her thigh meeting his balls.

Ouch! That looked painful!

He lets her go and drops down to his knees, his hands shooting for his crotch.

Lydia lands on her feet and darts to where I'm still straddling Patrick's chest on the ground. She grabs my arm and starts pulling me, her effort doing very little to move me.

But I give in. I lift up to my feet and take two steps away from the prick, still lying at my feet, where he fucking belongs.

Lydia circles to my front and plants her small hands on my chest, pushing me farther away.

"Please, Mark, if you really love me, leave him alone, please," she pleads.

My fucking heart swells.

If I love her? Does she still need proof? And her proof is...that?

I don't say anything, but simply nod and take another step back.

Gloria, Liam, and Alex are now at Nate's side, Liam trying to get Nate back on his feet.

I doubt that's going to happen any time soon, though, my girl knows how to kick.

I look back at her, as she stands in front of me, her arms extended in front of her, her hands firmly planted on my chest. She is soaked, her clothes are clinging to her body. Snakes of wet hair are falling down her face under the soaked hood of her hoodie. Her eyes have black circles of smudged mascara around them. Her lips are parted, the tiny gap between her front teeth barely visible under her top lip.

An awkward silence has fallen over Gloria's now dark driveway. The only lights are coming from the porch and the Uber's headlights.

Suddenly, a sharp cry breaks through the air. Lydia's head jerks back, trying to locate where the sound came from.

Another one follows and it takes me a few seconds to realize that it's not really a cry.

It's a laugh.

Patrick is laughing from where he's lying on the wet gravel. He lifts himself up onto his elbows and looks at Lydia and me. Lydia's head is still turned back, and I can't see her eyes, but I can swear they are locked on Patrick.

He lifts up to a sitting position and rests his elbows on his bent knees.

"Love?" He chuckles. "Did he tell you he loves you?"

I see Lydia's brows pull in, and she turns to look at me, confusion and frustration fighting in her eyes.

"I can assure you he doesn't love you, Lydia!"

"And you do?" I shout, stepping forward and pushing against Lydia's hands. She flexes her muscles and pushes back.

Patrick lets out another laugh.

"You must be fucked in the head, if you think he loves you, Lydia," his voice sounds just like the gravel he's sitting on. "He's with you merely to spite me."

Goosebumps rise on my skin, and they have nothing to do with the cold rain.

I want to rush back towards him and finish what I started before Lydia came in between us.

"Stop it, man, I have your money! You can have it and then just fuck off!"

"Money? What money?" Lydia asks slowly.

Both Patrick and I are silent. For a second, there's no sound, apart from the still-running engine of the Uber.

"Was it him you were on the phone with at your dad's wedding?" Lydia asks.

I look into her eyes, trying to project all the love and emotion I have for her.

Oh, God, I'm fucked! She has to understand. She has to.

If not, I don't know what the fuck am I going to do.

"Was it him, Mark?" Lydia demands again.

I slowly nod my head.

"Why did you lie to me?" She asks, her voice ominously calm.

"I...I didn't want you to worry about it."

"Worry about what, Mark?" She squeezes through gritted teeth. Rainwater is falling down her face from the soaked hood of her hoodie.

"Why do you owe him money, Mark?" She demands.

"Yeah, Mark, why don't you tell her why you owe me money?" Patrick smirks, standing to his feet.

"Shut the fuck up!" I yell. Lydia jumps in her place, startled.

Then, she clenches her hands into fists and starts banging them against my chest.

"Tell me what the fuck is going on!" She yells.

"Yeah, Mark, why don't you tell her?"

Lydia's hands drop at her sides and she stomps her foot into the puddle she's been standing in, splashing us both in mud and rainwater. She doesn't seem to notice, though. She turns her head towards Patrick and yells, "You tell me, then!"

Patrick laughs again, a cruel, cold laugh.

"Sorry, Lyds, I don't think it's my place to meddle," he begins, his words dripping with fake concern, his eyes flashing with red from the taillights of the Uber. "I'm here only to collect my money. After all, it wasn't me, who bet you in a game of poker."

My lungs suddenly feel void of air. I feel my knees buck. I try and focus my gaze on Lydia.

He didn't...

As if in slow motion, Lydia turns her head towards me, her eyes as wide as saucers. She looks totally shocked.

And then, Patrick, being the fucker he is, adds,

"And lost."