Marcus Bradley
Location: Hallway -> Exam RoomShuddering, Marcus sat up then looked around himself. His face was wet-- oh gross it was drool-- and he then realized he'd apparently dozed off while sitting in the hallway. Wiping his face and attempting to collect himself was more of a process than he realized. By the time he managed to stand up, he was still a little confused as to why Past Marcus thought it a good idea to sit in the hallway in the first place.
And then the intercom came on.
Part of Marcus immediately wished he could have kept sleeping for the next twenty minutes. What was he supposed to do with all this time? A yawn escaped him as he began walking down the hall. Maybe a bit of exploration would burn away the time. As he walked, he could hear voices coming from the kitchen area. Of course people would be up and about at this hour. Briefly he wondered how many of them has walked past him in the hall, then felt embarrassed. "Check out that weird nerd," they must have thought, "Sleeping in the hallway, covered in slobber, how gross." When Marcus stepped into the cafeteria, he lingered by the doorway and stared toward the kitchen, with these thoughts on his mind. Did anyone want gross drool guy around? Did Marcus actually care?
Shoulders bunched, hands clenched, and lips pressed into a thin line, Marcus narrowed his eyes at this thought and accidentally the kitchen. How dare he think these thoughts with his own brain? He fixed his jaw then told himself he shouldn't be caring about what they thought of him, they weren't his friends anyway, so it didn't matter, right? He didn't care, yeah. Not a single care about any of those things. Yeah! He didn't care about anything! While he stood by the door a minute longer, his stomach growled, letting him know he cared about one thing, at least. Letting out a sigh, he counted it as another misfortune, then turned away from the kitchen. He could eat later, when there were less eyes watching him, and perhaps time to really make a proper meal.
As he began walking away from the cafeteria, after having stared into it like a total creep, he tried to imagine just how angry his mother would be at him, were she to know how he'd been eating the past few days. He passed a few people in the hallway but didn't look up to greet them. For now, he decided he need to focus on getting to... his...
Marcus halted, backed up a few paces, then turned toward his exam room door. He tensed up, made the same face he'd been making while standing in the cafeteria, then walked into the room. "Not one for punctuality? Five minutes late." His trainer was standing just beyond the door with a clipboard in hand-- had she been about to walk out? Marcus looked at his feet then scratched his head in response, feeling somehow more anxious than he had previously. "Come in, take your shoes and shirt off, we're going to take your height and weight again, Nkiru told him. After doing as he was told, Marcus stepped on the scale, then squinted as the digital display began to count upward... more... passed his weight.
His brows knitted together and he looked toward Nkiru for answers. Marcus mumbled defensively,
"Your scale's broke."
"It's been calibrated this morning," Nkiru told him after jotting down a few notes. She pointed at him with her pen, "When did that happen?" Marcus looked to the indicated area and felt goosebumps rise across his flesh as he stared at his elbow-- that bone nub sticking out. As he stepped off of the scale, Marcus felt as if he knees had turned to jelly. He found he couldn't answer as he stared dumbly at Nkiru. She narrowed her eyes at Marcus, then moved something toward him with the nudge of her foot. He looked down to see a waste-bin positioned before him. Nkiru stepped back.
"My bone's out," Marcus managed over his fiercely churning stomach.
"That's not your bone. Do you not see that it follows skin contour?"Marcus stared at Nkiru dumbly. Again. Lightly, Nkiru shook her head then gestured for him to follow. After a brief walk in silence, Nkiru and Marcus entered the gym. She walked him over to what was probably the largest rack of dumbbells he'd ever seen, then she halted. "Since you apparently cannot run on a treadmill--" her tone was so mocking that Marcus winced "--I have devised a weight test instead."
Nkiru gestured to the weights then told him, "We'll start with curls. Choose a weight you can do at least five repetitions of the exercise with." As Marcus reached for the ten pound weight, Nkiru added, "Maximum you can do." Marcus then eyed the thirty pound and removed it from the rack. All he had to do was a curl. He made a face. Nkiru let out a tired sigh then asked, "Have you never lifted weights?" Not waiting for an answer, she picked up a dumbbell, then performed a few curls to show him the proper way to do so. Marcus mimicked the motion with an ease he didn't expect. Thirty must not have been his maximum. He tilted his head then changed weights. Forty, fifty, sixty five-- Marcus hesitated with his hand over the seventy pound weight, confused at their lightness, then asked, "These mislabeled?" Nkiru silently scratched a few notes then pointed told him coldly, "Lift the rack."
Marcus stared at her as if she sprouted another head for a moment. The expression on her face was hard and serious.
"You real funny, ya know that?"
"Lift the rack, Marcus. If you insist upon wasting my time, accusing me that they are mislabeled, then lift the rack," came the curt response.
"Look I'm sorry I up'n insulted ya weights but--"
"You have ten seconds to lift the rack, Macrus, or you'll face administrative consequences."
"What for? Ain't nobody can lift this-- that's impossible-- you need a forklift-- Marcus cut off when he noticed Nkiru looking at her watch. In a panic, he moved toward the center of the rack, got the best grip he could manage with his shaking hands, squatted down, then began to try and do as he was told-- administrative consequences-- no this wasn't good it wasn't moving-- who could do thisย bullshit?!
After a long moment's worth of strain and struggle, Marcus could feel tears streaming down his face, as the exertion and anxiety began to build to intolerable levels. An eternity went by. "That's enough," Nkiru told Marcus gently. Whimpering, Marcus collapsed backward, then stared toward Nkiru fearfully. Her eyes were on the rack of weights, a few of which has shifted slightly out of place, before she looked thoughtfully at Marcus. "Look in the mirror," Nkiru told him in a gentler tone, "I believe it to be a... symptom of sorts. Possibly stress induced."
As Marcus stood and glanced at himself in the mirror positioned behind the weight rack, he felt himself go numb, and his heart beat out something incomprehensible. Across his torso there were grey splotches the size of his hand, similar to the way his elbow looked and-- no it wasn't just his elbow now, it was his arm from wrist to shoulder-- it was on his neck too. He touched the splotches and found them to be cool to the touch and solid without give-- the remaining skin on his chest looked waxy as if he would melt or something. Trembling, he looked to Nkiru for help again.
"We're done for today," Nkiru told him. In frightened tearful silence, Marcus stared toward Nkiru, disbelieving her words. With an arched brow,ย Nkiru seemed to finalize her notes before telling him, "I suggest eating and hydrating. Its important that you eat properly." Numbly he nodded at Nkiru but didn't make a move. Without a word more, she turned walked toward the door, then left him sitting on the floor alone. He cursed inwardly as he realized he was missing a shirt once again.
