𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐌. isaac lahey

twenty.

chapter twenty

[ season 2 | episode 11 ]
[ battlefield ]

IF YOU'RE GOING THROUGH HELL—if you're going through hell, keep going. If you're going through agonizing and gut-wrenching hell, continue. Don't stop. Don't turn back. Keep going, keep going, keep going keep going—

          "Marlowe?" Her head whipped up, hair falling loose from her bun as she looked at the counselor, finally tearing her eyes away from the small scratch marks on the wooden desk. "You know, you and Stiles Stilinski are a lot alike. Neither of you were too eager to talk much," Ms. Morrell said, her voice a melodic hum that entranced the girl she kept looking at.

          The sun peeked through the white blinds, casting thin rays onto the wooden floor and illuminating the small office. "I really do want to help you, Marley." Ms. Morrell tucked some hair behind her ear, the smallest, pitiful expression spread across her graceful features. "But I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

          "Did you ever think about what comes after death?" Her voice was small when she said it, a tiny dent in the silence on her part of the conversation. "Did you ever imagine that bright light, or the golden gates of heaven, or even the process of reincarnation?" A few more strands fell forwards, creating a curtain around her face.

          Before Morrell could say anything, she chuckled. It was quiet and hollow, more of a huff than a real laugh, but she could tell it had some sort of effect on the environment of the room. "You know, everyone has their own preconceived idea of dying. I don't think any two people actually have the exact same idea."

          Her fingers toyed with air, nails silently scraping against one another and getting caught on every imperfection, causing her to tear away another layer—making them even shorter. "When I was little, I liked to think that we'd get to live the life we wanted to after death. We'd be rewarded by living our dreams," she whispered. Casting her eyes downward, she smiled to herself. "Now I find solace in the idea that it's just a void."

          The office was still silent as she continued, Ms. Morrell simply studying her with sharp, catlike eyes. "An endless expanse of black that swallows you whole, an eternity of nothing to follow the hell you've just trudged through. Because... because I think I'd rather be stuck in a bottomless pit of simple void than have to relive everything and do it over again. Than have to face the fiery pits of hell because, let's be honest here, I'm not the right fit for heaven." Her voice grew, moving from a whisper to a determined and powerful demand.

          "So," she stopped, breathing and staring back at her fingers, "when I think about Matt's death, I find myself jealous. That he got to die before me." A bark of laughter came from her stomach, nothing but indifference lingering beneath the sound. "And—before you ask—no. I don't exactly feel much remorse."