Veni, Vidi, Vici

“Be back before twelve!” a curt voice warned from the doorway.

“Don’t worry Mr and Mrs Daniel, I promise I’ll have her back by at least eleven!” Marc replied with a trademark charismatic smile, his tone meticulously suave and humble. Clinging tightly to his forearm like a leech was Sam, waving her hands madly as a farewell and dismissal to her parents.

They made their way awkwardly towards the silver Lexus, their steps were irregular and Marc seemed to be dragging Sam over to the car in complete disregards to her much slower pace. From afar, the couple would have looked ridiculously handsome, with him wearing a crisp, neatly pressed off-white dress shirt and coal black jeans, and her donning a sleek red satin dress that hugged her full figure like air. Yet Marc’s reluctance to be at the scene was like an ugly misshaped mark on a picturesque painting.

Sam smiled and gazed at him from beneath her long eyelashes as he opened the door for her, but he only looked away, pursing his lips and lowering his head. So she tried again when he was in the driver’s seat dropping her lips into a full glossy pout and running her icy fingers up and down on his arm. He looked at her this time, and smiled, the smile that was so famous, the smile that her parents had received, the smile that broke so many hearts, and then she melted, her legs wobbly jelly and heart a wild drum. That alone was enough to make her oblivious to the masked whirl-pooling of emotions in his eyes and the hard clenched line of his jaw afterwards.

Marc felt like shit, he felt like the biggest fucking douche-bag in the whole fucking universe. He’d become his father. Again. He was using others, completely unaware of their feelings and then just dumping them away like trash forgotten on an empty sidewalk. But he knew that he deserved this one meager shard of selfishness, this one chance, this one hope. If the plan didn’t work than he was going to completely forget about Vera, erase her from his memory, she would be nothing but a speed bump on his highway of life. But for now, he would try.

Marc glanced over at the pretty girl sitting next to him, she seemed so innocent, poking at buttons of the intricate CD player in his car in curiosity, head cocked slightly to the side. She wouldn’t know of his intentions, and Marc dearly hoped that she wouldn’t be as sensitive as some of the other girls. His confidence was wavering and he knew that he had to initiate his plan soon or else there would be insufficient time. Marc opened his mouth then closed it. Shit, he couldn’t do this.

And then to worsen it a hundredfold, she entered his mind. Fuck. Marc should have been shocked, but he wasn’t, Grace had been lurking in the back pocket of his brain ever since their first conversation, coming out at the most inappropriate moments, and making him slightly giddy. He would see her smile, see her laugh like that day when he’d kicked her in the head, and he would imagine her whispering things to him, her soft lips and tender breath against his ear, brushing his skin and raising bat-shit crazy chills. But this time, there were no mind-numbing chills, she was scolding him and telling him that what he was doing was wrong.

Fuck it, he shouldn’t be doing this, he was being greedy, what was so good about Ve-

“MARC!!!”

“FUCK!” Marc yelled at Sam’s glass shattering screech and swerving the car to avoid the deer that appeared before him like smoke.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so glad that we did not hit that widdle deer!” you’re so amazing Marc! You just swerved right out of the way! I can’t believe it! My heart is beating so quickly I actually think –"

“Hey you wanna ditch this date and hang out at Johnny’s? He’s having this mad party tonight.” Interrupted Marc, pushing his previous thoughts into a dark corner of his mind. It was now or never.

Sam’s eyes widened with glee. “OH. MY. GOSH. YES! This is going to be the most awesome date ever!”

Marc shut his eyes briefly and exhaled. The deal was done, and he couldn’t go back.



The heavy thud of the beat pulsed through Marc’s body in thunderous waves rattling his brain and shaking his body. There were people everywhere talking, shouting, dancing, raving and even vomiting on the side of the road in their underwear. This was Marc’s scene, his pattern, his routine, his lifestyle. Sam was staring at the house, eyes twinkling and mouth opened in astonishment, she slowly turned her head to look at him and smiled, her mouth now stretched wide. Marc swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled back. He then placed both hands on her side and brought her into his view, they were face to face now.
He cleared his throat, stalling. “I just wanted to say to you, that just because I brought you to this party, doesn’t mean that I’m interested in you just for the sex, I’m looking for a serious relationship and I think you could be the one, you’re really pretty and nice, and together, I think we could really work out.” The words in his ear rung like a rusty bell, they sounded scripted because they were and every letter was bullshit.

Yet Sam seemed to be blind to his continuous lies. She only stared up at him in awe, smiled and tiptoed up to kiss him on the lips. Marc abruptly turned his head and the kiss landed clumsily on the side of his mouth, the spot burned, boiling the guilt that rested in the pit of his stomach.

“C’mon Sam, let’s go in.”

Marc grabbed her wrist and led her through the front door. They were hit with the roar of the music, the smell of sweat and alcohol, the blistering hot atmosphere and the compression of other people pushing, shoving and pulling them. They walked into the lounge room where bodies were glued so close together Marc could have misinterpreted them as one person, grinding in rhythm to the music. He scanned the room, looking for that bright red hair and porcelain skin, and sure enough, there she was, standing alone surprisingly, yet looking hotter than ever swaying her hips to the music in that tight black dress. There was a cup in her hand probably non-alcohol because Vera Vermont was infamous for never drinking but still managing to stay sexy and cool at any party. Marc took three deep breaths and allowed himself a moment of preparation.

“Let dance.” He grabbed Sam’s waist, pulled her into the sea of bodies and began to move with beat. The air seemed limited, and Marc had to inhale large gulps to try and stay alive, before he knew it, he was puffing, the sound matching the beat of the song. Everything appeared slow, lethargic, he could see Sam, her half lidded eyes fluttering as she rubbed her body leisurely against his and only two metres away Vera, turning her head towards him. It was inevitable, their eyes drew together like magnets, and it was instinct for him to bend down and meet his lips with Sam’s. He could see crystal clear, Vera's eyes widen, a mirror image of her reaction in the parking lot. Two points for Marc.

He instantly pulled away from the kiss causing Sam to stumble slightly on the spot and blink hard several times as if to clear her vision. Seeing Marc advancing away from her, she instantly clutched onto his arm, fingers digging deep enough to leave an imprint.

“Where are you going?” she asked eyes narrowed and lips pressed tight.

“I’m just going to the bathroom, babe.” He reassured. Sam’s expression softened and releasing his arm, resumed dancing.



Vera was stunned, no, that wasn’t it, she was disgusted, disgusted at his resilience and disgusted at her own lack of it. It was meant to warn him, the kiss with Jake, and admittedly to also tease. It was supposed to say ‘you could never have me no matter how hard you try’ not an initiation to this stupid game. But the worst thing about this situation was that she was losing. She was jealous, jealous of that fat bitch that had taken Marc away from her, jealous that it wasn’t her, in the middle of that crowd with Marc Winston looking down at her with lust. She wanted him, and whenever Vera Vermont wanted something. She got it.



Marc sat slouched on the edge of the bed, the heel of his hands pressed against his eyes. He’d taken the now crinkled dress shirt off, mindlessly folding it, his hands lingering on the expensive fabric and placing it neatly besides him. He needed some space to himself, some alone time to reflect on his actions, and since the usual ‘going outside for air’ meant confronting a herd of sex crazed teens in a hot tub, Johnny D’s sister’s room was his best shot. Seeing Vera react to his kiss with Sam again was like winning an Olympic medal, the crowd in his mind cheering on their hero. But realizing what he was doing with Sam drowned him in a flood of guilt. The combination was a sickening ambivalence, the contradicting emotions pulling at his mind in a mental tug-of-war.

Marc raised his head as the sound of a door opening caught his ear. His eyebrows jumped in shock as the autumn red hair, pale white skin and black dress appeared before him. She steadily advanced towards him, eyes hard with intent. Marc tensed, this moment wasn’t right. Her presence felt wrong like an irritating prickle running over his skin and the urge to run away clawed at him like a savage animal. It was either fight or flight.

He chose to fight.

“What are you doing here Vera? I thought that simply being in the same room as me disgusted you.” He stood up, puffing to his full height and sneered at her with false confidence.

“I never said that. I’m sorry if that was how you interpreted my feeling towards you.” Her tone was calm, cool and collected but her eyes said otherwise, they were a dark abyss, swirling with unidentified emotions.

“Well, last time we talked, if you could call it that, you pretty much flipped me off.”

She didn’t respond, her body was so close he could feel the heat radiating from her, could smell the musky perfume of her skin and see the light sprinkle of freckles on her face. His heart pounded so loudly he momentarily wondered if she could actually hear it. His breathing deepened and his skin grew taut like some idiot had wrapped in plastic suffocating him, stealing his air and tightening his body. His vision went blotchy and her face drew close but he could hardly tell. Her figure was wavering before his eyes, and he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as she drew even closer, her face only an inch away from his.

It wasn’t tender or sweet. It was a brutal moment of contact; her lips crushing against his suddenly like a ton of bricks. The action was messy, unexpected, different to what he’d spent so many hours imagining. She moved clumsily, rubbing against his, she opened her mouth, allowing him entrance but he didn’t react. It was too alarming, and different. Yet she pushed on, pushed harder, sharp manicured nails digging into his uncovered chest. And finally, he responded, that moment of realization like an electrical shock, realization that Vera Vermont was kissing him. He instantly hardened, then like a starved man, hungry for his scavenged food, devoured her mouth in lust. He frantically pressed their bodies tight together, wrapped his arms around her and together they fell to the bed. The cool contact of sheets against his scorching skin opened his eyes, not wanting to lose the moment, he closed them again.

And then he opened them.

For standing in the doorway was that girl with the soft brown hair, womanly figure, vivid red dress, gaping mouth and tear stained cheeks. Samantha Daniels.

Everyone is allowed to make mistakes, but in that moment, Marc knew that what he did-

was truly fucked up.