Continued from June 5, 2018
Dale looked at Marcus with sad, conflicted eyes.
“You’ve been my mentor since my father’s death.” He said. “Why? Why would you cross that line? How could you do that?”
“Every man has his breaking point, Dale.” Marcus said shaking his head. “I’ve regretted it. It’s something that I will inevitably have to pay for. I intend to confess to it at the eulogy today, and let the others dictate what happens to me.”
Marcus watched the sadness vanish in an instant, washed out by rage as he stood and began pacing the room. “How can you live with yourself! You were supposed to protect him, and teach him! You were supposed to be his father!” Dale exploded.
“You’re right,” Marcus replied as the tears started rolling down his face. “There are a great many things that I was supposed to do that I have failed. I’ve failed Gail, Dylan, you, and the others. I’ve failed myself, and everything I held dear for more than two decades.”
Dale walked out of the room, the disgust on his face plain to anyone that would have seen it.
Marcus felt the hollow thump in his chest again, only this time it felt like his heart was fighting to break through. A sharp pain shot down his left arm as his chest tightened. The weight of his actions, combined with the fury from Dale was overwhelming his body.
His hand instinctively moved to his left side, grasping at his chest as he rose from the couch and fought to walk to the door for help. He reached out for the door frame, hoping for some support, but missed the mark.
The pain spiked again as gravity took hold of him. He fell to the floor, hardly making a sound on the soft carpet.
The darkness crept in, slowly at first, and then washed over him. His eyes closed for the last time, his hand on his chest, lying in a funeral home. Alone.