-Strange by Mild Orange-

"I told you, I told you, I told you!" laughed Denise in the passenger seat of the van. She was laughing so hard; she almost couldn't breathe. "I'll admit, Alex being into you was not what I was expecting, but I knew something was up with them."

As soon as everything went down, they packed their bags and ditched.

"Can we not talk about this? Ever?" Mark shivered. "I mean, how are you not weirded out about this?"

"I've been hit on by women, plenty of times. You were in prison for God's sake, didn't guys -" realizing how big and scary he looked, Denise shook her head, "never mind. Either way, you gotta admit, this is all kind of funny."

Silence fell over the two as Mark thought about everything.

Though he felt violated, even he could admit, the situation was kind of comical.

He started laughing, and Denise joined in.

The two laughed together for a minute, ending in happy sighs.

"Okay, we need to get a hold of ourselves," Denise wiped the tears that welled in her eyes, "we are we going now?"

"Well, we're in Maine," Mark shrugged. "Mine as well get some lobster."

They head to J's Oysters by the pier and have the dinner of their lives. They just about ordered the whole menu. They had lobsters, clams, oysters with lobster stuffing, oysters with spinach, cheese, and bacon, oysters with a light cheese topping, shrimp, scallops, clam chowder, and lobster stew.

By the end, they were stuffed and tired.

But they decided to walk the pier instead, and have a smoke break.

With her heels in her hand, Denise leaned on the railing of the pier, inhaling her cigarette.

A few feet away, Mark was on the phone, booking a hotel. Once he finished, he went over and stood next to Denise.

"Our room will be ready when we get there."

"Good," Denise passed him the cigarette. "I need a hot shower and a bed."

"I need a toilet," said Mark, making Denise laugh.

Mark shook his head, "its crazy."

"What?" Denise took the cigarette.

"You're just so real that I'm comfortable around you. I feel like I could say anything, and you wouldn't freak out."

"What can I say? I've seen a lot in my life. Nothing surprises me anymore."

"Hm," Mark put his gaze on the water. "It sucks though because you don't feel comfortable around me. At least you act like you don't."

"I told you," Denise blew smoke into the air. "It's just not my thing. I'd rather suffer and die than put my feelings on someone else. I refuse to be a liability."

"Who told you that?" Mark looked at her.

"Told me what?"

"That you were a liability. No one would think such things about themselves unless someone told them. Even when it's good things."

"Listen to you, Gandi," Denise rolled her eyes, taking a puff of the cigarette.

Mark smirks and pulls his keys out of his pocket.

"Well, you won fair and square."

"I sure did."

As they exchanged the keys for the cigarette, the keys fell onto the ground.

"I got it," Denise bent down to get it, but a small, pale hand touched it before she could.

She lifted her head to see a little brown-eyed boy, with dark hair.

"Here you go," he picked up the keys and held it out to her.

Denise gulped, slowly taking them.

"Levi, get back here!" his mother called to him.

The little boy ran away, leaving Denise speechless.

She stands up, staring at the keys that his little hand once touched.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked her.

When she didn't respond, he touched her shoulder, "hey -"

"Don't touch me!" Denise pulled away.

"Whoa," Mark took a step back, noticing the change in her behavior. "What just happened?"

He noticed the tears welling her eyes, "Denise, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" she tossed the keys on the ground. "Let's just get out of here."

Scoffing, a confused Mark, picked up the keys and watched her storm away.

__________

Denise didn't say anything to Mark, the whole way to the hotel. It was as if he wasn't even there to her.

Mark found himself to be worried. One moment they were getting along, and the next, the kid comes over, and she's a different person.

Everyone had issues, but there were those people who's wounds always stay fresh no matter how long it had been since it happened. Denise was one of those people.

One trigger and her whole demeanor changed. It was further proof that she needed to talk to someone. Keeping her hurt inside wasn't doing her any good.

Mark wanted to try and talk to her. Yet, he knew better than to poke her when she was in such a fragile state.

So, he decided to talk to her tomorrow, until he heard crying from the bathroom.

He knocked on the door, "Denise?"

"Unless you have alcohol or a man, go away, Mark, I don't have time for you nice guy bullshit, right now."

"Come on, don't be like that. You think I can just sit out here and listen to you cry?"

"I don't care, I just want to be left alone," her voice broke.

"Look," Mark sighed. "I know you don't talk about your feelings, but what happened earlier - you changed into a completely different person. Whatever you're holding in, it isn't helping you."

Denise went quiet.

"Denise?"

The door opened, and there stood a red-eyed Denise in a t-shirt and her underwear.

"How do you do it?" she walked past him to sit on the bed.

"Do what?" Mark joined.

"Talk about your feelings? It's gross."

Mark chuckled, "well, when I was in prison, I use to be over this group. I'd share my story with some inmates, and they'd do the same. We'd talk about where we went wrong, what we would do differently, and how we wanna get better."

"I'm not at all surprised," Denise looked away. "It actually makes a lot of sense."

"Denise, it's not like you have to tell me your whole story. You start small, and you go from there."

"Okay," she nodded. "Okay, fine."

Denise wipes her eyes and looks at Mark.

"I can't do this," she laid back. "I can't even look you in the face."

"Alright, fine, then don't," Mark laid beside her. "Matter of fact, I'll start. You want to know how I got convicted?"

"Okay," Denise turned on her side, facing him.

"So, as always, it started with a girl. She was my best friend since kindergarten. Her name was Brianna."

Mark sighs, "Brianna didn't have the best family. Her dad was a drunk, and her mom was always getting the repercussions of it. Eventually, she did too. One day, she came to me, crying. She told me she was tired and she couldn't live with it anymore. So, we created a plan to run away."

"Let me guess," Denise said, "her dad caught wind."

"Yeah. The night we were supposed to leave, she never showed up at our meeting spot. So, I went to her house. The moment I got there, I could hear her mom screaming and crying. The door was unlocked, so I went in. There was Brianna on the floor shot in the head."

Denise's jaw dropped. "No."

"Yeah," Mark said softly. "I remember her mother just sobbing and cradling her."

"And her dad?"

"He was there too, still standing there, and holding the gun. Brianna's mother started screaming at him and hitting him. He started threatening her with the gun, so I sprung into action. We started wrestling for the gun, and then . . . it went off, and Brianna's mom was on the floor - a bullet wound in the chest."

Denise gulped, "did it kill her?"

"No," Mark shook his head. "She survived. I got taken into custody with her dad. I thought I was gonna be fine, but when they told me, that they let him go, and were keeping me, I knew I was fucked."

"Wait a minute," Denise sat up. "There's no way, I mean what about her mom? She vouched for you, right?"

"Brianna's father threatened to kill her, so she testified against me along with him."

Mark tensed up a bit, clearing his throat, "At eighteen, I got ten years. They said that in the heat of passion, I killed my best friend because I found out that she didn't love me like I had been in love with her. That I got upset because she wouldn't run away with me."

"That's fucked up," Denise was horrified. "They can't do that. You were only eighteen. There's no way."

"It happens all the time," Mark sat up. "You wouldn't believe how old a lot of inmates were when they went to prison."

"You know what I don't get?" Denise grabbed a pillow and held it to her chest. "How are you so decent when you went through something like that? Eighteen in prison? I can't even imagine that."

"I'm twenty-nine now, and it wasn't until recently that I realized I still have a life to live. A lot of people don't get out until they're sixty and over. I'm still young, I have time to make something of myself, and now, I'm just trying to figure that out. One state at a time."

"Hm," Denise looked away.

"It's your turn," he told her.

Before she begins to speak, Denise could already feel the tears welling in her eyes.

She gulped, "I um, lived with my aunt in Massachusettes. When I was seventeen, I found her dead in the bathroom. She overdosed on pills."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," tears streamed down her cheeks. "It hit me hard because she was really there for me when my parents weren't. We were close, though I will say, I've got a majority of my bad habits from her."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, she'd always say we were alike. When she was my age, she was outgoing, adventurous, a risk-taker. She thought she was invincible even when life told her she wasn't a million times—starting with her choice men. It seemed like she had a new douche bag every week. I remember being in my room, trying to keep out the screaming with my earphones. I'd say to myself 'I'll never turn out like that.'"

Denise shrugged, sniffling, "and here I am. And the worst part about her death is that I didn't see the signs until she was gone."

She wiped her eyes, "she got with this guy, and man, was he the worst of the worsts. He'd tear her down with his words like it was nothing. For the first time, she showed signs of, I don't know, checking out. Mentally it just seemed like she wasn't there. Usually, even when things were bad, she always had a smile to give, and something positive to say. But not this time. Before I knew it, the only person who ever understood me was gone. The only family I had - gone."

Denise gulps, "so there it is, apart of my life. If this was supposed to make me feel better, it didn't, and your advice is shit."

Mark chuckles, "it never feels good in the moment. You gotta ride it out."

"Damn it," Denise wiped her face, "I could really use that drink."

Mark reached out to her.

"Please, don't," she pulled back. "Let's just . . . can we just lay here?"

"Of course," Mark nodded, "we can do that."

Keeping the pillow clutched to her chest, Denise laid on her side, facing Mark.

He laid down, staring into her puffy brown eyes.

Clutching the pillow harder, Denise closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. 

****

Hey guys, despite the realness and the sadness, I hope you enjoyed these chapters! Maybe even found it comical. Of course, there's more to the story, especially Denise's so stay tuned.

I've decided, that when I update in this book, I'm going to update in clusters of chapters. Since this book contains a lot of traveling, I kind of have to write things in a slightly faster pace. If I write based on every minute, every hour, every second of the trip, I'll never finish the book, let alone get through the states. 

So, hopefully, the pace isn't too fast, just let me know and I'll try to adjust.

Thank you guys so much for your comments on the last few chapters. Though I didn't respond, I'm very thankful. 

Thanks to those comments, I've planned how this book is going to go and already decided, there will be a second book. 

I'm gonna be honest, this is probably going to be the most real book I've ever written. Already I feel like it's raw and not as romanticized as other books and so far I enjoy writing it, and I hope you guys will continue to enjoy reading it.

As the book goes on, real-life topics will be discussed, especially in which it pertains to trauma, healing, family wounds and more. So, I'm excited!

Until the next chapters! Love you guys!