Chapter Eight ~ Marilyn, You Uncultured Swine

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Terroriser POV:

It was dark and chilly outside. It was getting closer and closer to the winter time.
The little bit of light silently ghosted over Marilyn's face, seeming to make her porcelain features more prominent.
She blinked and looked at the house we had now stood in front of.
The house that no longer contained Keegan.
She sighed and her hands ran to her pockets, touching something, but I didn't quite know what it was in there.
"Why are you staring at me?" she whispered.
I blinked and quickly looked away.
"I'm apologize, Marilyn." I told her.
She grinned and her eyes looked into mine, making me melt.
"It's okay."
It was only for a moment but it seemed an eternity until we finally walked through the door.
She observed the house.
"Nothing's changed."
I nodded.
We all smiled.
"Except the fact that Keegan is here, of course..." she whispered.
I walked over to the table.
"Hey, Marilyn." I said.
There was a vase on a table.
In it contained a single rose, starting to wilt.
She ran over.
"It's dying." she said, touching the petals.
"Here." I said, touching the soil and then her hand, making her feel the texture.
"Feel that?" I asked.
She was surprised that I'd touched her.
"Yeah, I do." she didn't move from my eyes.
"It's dry, right? You have to keep the soil pretty moist, but not too moist, and that's why you check for brown spots. They're really weak when it comes to fungus." I told her, looking at the dying rose.
She blinked and finally breathed again.
"Oh. Yeah. Hah. Let me get some water."

Marilyn POV:

WHAT THE HELL, MARILYN?!
Snap out of it!
What's wrong with you??
There's just something... Different.
Why didn't I hit him when he grabbed my hand.
Why didn't I even cringe or jump back or yell at him?!
Why did I feel...?
Am I sick?
That's it. I'm just emotional.
After Keegan left, I just feel lonely.
Yeah, that's it.
I knew this man had feelings for me.
I was just gonna play it off and in the end, if we got caught, say he kidnapped us!
But now... Now I feel so...
Ew.
Stop, Marilyn. Stop.
Not again.
This isn't happening a second time.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing at a phone laying on the counter.
"That's... That's..." I was almost speechless as I grabbed it from him.
"That's Marzia's phone." I told him.
He looked at me, surprised.
"You took her phone?"
"No, I didn't do it. My brother and some other hitman, they did this. My orders. Just to scare them. I didn't know they'd have to come to killing her... She must've seen too much." I sighed.
"And Felix?" he asked.
My heart grew heavy.
"I was the one who threatened him."
He gasped.
"Marilyn! He's dead!"
"You don't think I know that?!" I asked.
"But you did this all on purpose. You knew this would happen!" he said.
I shook my head.
"I just wanted to scare you guys. I wouldn't kill you. Maybe them, but not me." I said.
"You're such a liar." he told me.
"Go ahead and say that! That's what everyone says!!" I yelled.
"BECAUSE IT'S TRUE." He yelled back.
They ran forward, tackling Terroriser, knife inches from his neck.
"No! Stop! DON'T HURT HIM!" I yelled
They all looked at me, confused.
What??
MARILYN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!
WHY DIDN'T YOU LET THEM KILL HIM?!
I blinked.
"I mean, we could use him." I tried to cover.
They threw him down, leaving his breathless and astonished, overwhelmed that he was alive.
I sighed and walked outside, sitting on the porch, hands in my pockets because it was chilly.
I felt the doll Hannah had given me long ago, I've always carried it wherever I go, all these years.
Why did I miss the little girl when I hated her so much?!
I wanted to kill her but I missed her.
What the hell, Marilyn.
My name was in the newspaper, she'd know that it was.
I'd achieved my goal.
Too bad it was Delilah instead of Marilyn.
I should've legally changed it.
Too late now.
The door had opened and Brian had sat beside me.
I jumped up.
"Marilyn?" he said, confused.
"Brian." I said.
"What's your problem? What was that in there?" he asked.
"I'm not falling for you, Terroriser. Do you hear me? Stay away. I'm not doing this again. We're killing people soon." I told him.
He nodded.
"I know."
"Then what is what?" I asked.
"Marilyn, I know you're not crazy." he told me.
I blinked and opened my mouth.
I didn't say anything.
Why?!
Marilyn, speak up!
"That statement... Is... False." I managed out.
Goddammit Marilyn, you uncultured swine.
What the hell.
"Marilyn, sit down." he told me.
I usually would've walked away.
He smiled nicely.
But for some dumbass reason, I obeyed him.
What am I thinking?
"Listen, you're not crazy. I did some research about you." he told me.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"Why would you do research on me?"
"Marilyn, I'm done sugarcoating it.
Do you see the way you act around me? You're nervous. You're blushing."
He smirked.
I am?
I blinked and touched my cheeks.
Oh.
Shit...
Okay...
"A crazy person has no sense of reality, but you clearly see your surroundings and you act abnormal, but you're actually just hurt from what you did to your mother."
He told me.
I almost started crying.
No Marilyn. You don't cry.
Stop. You stopped crying.
It's weakness.
"I lied for him, you know. I didn't kill my mother. I didn't even harm her at all. He killed her. Right in front of my brother and I. And I let him."
I poured out all at once rambling.
"You let him?" he asked.
"She was a horrible woman. And he talked me into it. It was like mind-control." I said, through gritted teeth.
"Marilyn. You let him. He did this to her? And you let him." He told me.
I noticed he had grabbed my hand.
"Brian!" I stood up, yanking my hand away, almost falling backwards.
Since when am I clumsy?
"Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. I don't know what kind of mind-controlling, stupid ass sorcery is in your brain, but it was in his, too, and I'm not falling for the same shit again!" I yelled, but still not loud enough for the group inside to hear me.
"Marilyn. We don't 'control your mind'. You do. You let us. You don't just let us brainwash you or whatever you think that we're doing." he stood up.
He became really close.
"You love us."
My blood was so warm.
"I-" I was speechless.
His warm breath was soon in my face as well, his arms wrapped around me, and I knew I should pull away.
But I brought us closer.
His lips were almost on mine at this point, and his hands ran up my shirt.
I then blinked and jumped, regaining my strength, again.
I pushed him away before our lips met.
He wasn't even mad.
That little fucker.
I should've shot him in the head.
I gritted my teeth and threw a look at him as he stepped back a small bit.

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