I felt the temperature of the night change.
Marcus looked at me once before opening the door. Not scared. Just tired in a way that made me angrier than fear would have. He stepped out slowly, telling the officer exactly what he was doing. Mercer grabbed his arm anyway. When Marcus asked why he was being handled, Mercer slammed him hard against the hood, crushing his cheek to the metal and tearing his shirt at the shoulder. I heard the impact before I fully understood I was already opening my own door.
Marcus shouted that he was cooperating.
Mercer shouted louder that he was resisting.
That is how men like him build their alibi while the bruise is still forming.
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