Next Time? There Won't Be No Next Time

As my eyes begin to flutter open from what I would class as one of the best sleeps ever, I realise its dark. No sight of Marshall in the sitting room or kitchen. As my throat runs dry, I get up to get a drink. Great no clean glasses. My house looks lovely and clean but then there's the sink. Dirty dishes, lipstick smeared glasses and lime scale all over the tap. I grab a glass and rinse it clean. Pour some water and head upstairs to my bed. "You should still be sleeping." Its dark upstairs so I can't see who is talking to me. I turn the hall light on and see Marshall blocking my way to the bedroom.
"I needed a drink." I speak innocently back to him. Marshall smiles at the sound of my croaky voice and lets me through. I place my glass on the bedside table and get under the duvet hoping Marshall will follow. "You coming to join me?" I question to see if I get to spend the night with my boyfriend. He slowly makes his way to the bed and undresses into his boxers.

In the early hours of the morning I get up hoping not to wake Marshall. As I use my ability to creep downstairs, I start to clear up in the kitchen when I come across a note from Marshall. It reads:
"Dear Sophs, I watched you fall asleep last night and as you did I gave you a slow kiss on the lips. You may not read this till the morning and I may have gone. I have a rap tournament tomorrow first thing. It starts at 8 if you wish to come."
I see that it's 7:52 "Shit he has 8 minutes!" I yell in my thoughts. I rush up the stairs to wake him but he's not in the bed. He was when I woke up and I haven't head any walking around.

He's in the bathroom thankgod!
"You okay honey?" He asks politely.
"Yeah I'm good, have you realised the time?" I'm hoping he has so it doesn't somehow amount to my fault.
"Yes, don't worry it's only down the road. I'll be there before it starts." He seems pretty keen so I just give him the simple reply and get dressed. I'm not planning on going with him. I need to clean up the kitchen and upstairs. When he finally walks out the door, he waves good bye as he drives off. This is his career and he only has about two minutes to get there.

About two hours go by and he hasn't come home. These rap battles go on for hours though. I start to hear sirens and I see a police car rush down the road. The police must have heard about it and been told there is a fight. There usually is a fight but not big enough to get the police involved. I decide to follow the car and go check the incident out. It might not even be the rap battle. It could be something else. I still follow just in case.

As the police and I pull up at a hall where Marshall's car is parked, my heart starts to pound. I step out the car at the same time the cops get out of theirs.
"Madame, what are you doing here? There is a fight and you shouldn't have followed us." These battles aren't illegal, so it's not like anybody's likely to get arrested.
"My boyfriend is here, I just wanted to know if he is involved in this. Can I please come in with you?"
It's never good to question a police officer, but I had to. How else was I to get inside to see Marshall? The man agrees so I silently follow him inside.

As we walk in we see shards of glass everywhere, blood dripping from the walls and we hear screams of pain. This must have been a huge fight. I don't see Marshall or any other rappers, just crying women holding unconsciousness men. Most of the men are injured quite badly in my eyes. As I look around the room for Marshall, the paramedics are called. I've never been a fan of blood. I always used to faint at the sight of it. Luckily now I'm over that fear. I look up to the stage where Marshall would have performed. I begin to walk over there to get access to the back where Marshall is more likely to be. As I approach the stage, one officer tells me to be extra careful and to call if anything happens. I agree to this by giving him a thumbs up as I slip behind a curtain. I look around there, trying to be extra quiet.
"Sophie, what the fuck are you doing here? You'll get us all arrested." As I turn around to find the voice of a friend of Marshall's, I hit him with my hair, right in the eye. He groans in pain but I don't show any sympathy.
"Where's Eminem? I need to see him now. And if you don't tell me I will yell 'help!' for the police to hear and tell them you hurt me. Now be a nice boy and tell me." I sound like a school teacher but I really just need to know where Marshall is. The rapper gets up and makes me follow him. He takes me to a room where most performers are hiding.
"Guys come out it's just me and Sophie." At the sound of my name, every one piles out of the cupboards and some emerge from under the tables and chairs. Marshall comes out of a dress closet and doesn't look too happy. He has a cut on his lip but doesn't seem to care.

I suddenly remember this as a dream. Marshall is hiding, and hurt. But then I realise it wasn't a dream. It happened last year, along with a trip to the police station. If he is caught with a cut in his lip then he could be done, in his career as a rapper, without real proof that he hurt somebody. I hear a police officer coming towards this room. I can't let Marshall get caught. I usher him out the window and make him go back to mine. The man comes in and sees all the rappers. The expression on his face explains that none of them are going anywhere. But I have to try. He sees me starting to walk out the room and asks where I'm going. "My boyfriend isn't here so I'm going home. Thanks for letting me in to look. Good day." I quickly rush off past the injured fighters and drive home to find Marshall.