14: To Get Help!

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Marshall Lee paused. Scary...

"I've always been scary." He snarled. "It keeps people away from a monster like me... And now, like YN."

Gumball scowled.

"Your personality is what makes you a monster. She is nothing like you." Gumball crossed his arms. "Now as much as I really want this boys night to continue, I have better things to do."

"I doubt it." Marshall Lee rolled his eyes.

"If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, then literally anything is better than this. Do you think I LIKE seeing you with her? Do you think I ENJOY the thought of never getting to be with her again? You turned her and you're marrying her. If she accepts your globbing ridiculous personality change."

"NOTHING CHANGED!" He screamed at the prince.

"EVERYTHING CHANGED!" Gumball screamed right back. "You used to care about people! Cry! You'd cry over your feelings! Now you're..."

He stumbled, not wanting to spew the accusation out that he had.

"I'm what?" Marshall Lee sat back and crossed his arms.

"A murderer." He whispered. "And don't think I won't tell YN about it."

Suddenly, the vampire king was pushing the prince against a wall.

"You won't." His eyes were dark.

"I will, now. And I'll tell her you attacked me." Gumball struggled to breathe.

"You don't have to tell me." You opened the door. "I forgot a snack. Heard the screaming and waited."

Immediately, Marshall Lee dropped the gummy man, letting him fall and gasp for air.

"Red! Babe! My wife! No, you don't understand--"

"No, I think that I do understand." You walked over and helped Prince Gumball up from the ground. "Gumball is jealous. Marshall Lee is sick."

"...Sick?" His face dropped and he sunk to the floor.

"Sick. Not well. Here." You pointed to your head. "Needs help."

"Help?! He killed my candy people!" Gumball was flabberghasted.

"And if you don't help him, he has eternity to keep killing." You shrugged as you floated over to the vampire. "You can't lock him up. He's the vampire king."

"I'm sick?" Marshall Lee mumbled again.

"Yes. I think. Healthy Marshall doesn't kill. Doesn't even drink blood." You moved his hair out of his face. "A good friend would see you can't help it."

"We're not friends." Prince Gumball chimed in.

"...Or a wife-to-be." You pet his scrunched up face. "We should find a doctor."

"A doctor? For what?" Prince Gumball asked. "If his brain is messed up, a regular doctor won't help. He'll need like a psychiatrist or something."

"A what?" Marshall Lee asked.

"He said psy-tryt." You asserted.

"Psy-chi-a-trist." He sounded out. "Head doctor. We don't have one... I've only read about them in books. But maybe Butterscotch Butler could help... She's unusually good at these sorts of things."

"See, Mawshee, let's get help." You floated upside down, focusing more on the man in front of you, rather than your ability to float.

"I... I don't know..." He mumbled.

"It shouldn't be a choice..." Prince Gumball spoke as he ran a hand through his hair, tiredly. "He's a danger."

"No. He is Mawshee. And Mawshee is sick." You kissed his nose. "But it's still his choice. You can leave now Bubble. I can handle him."

And although he didn't want to, he stood up. There was nothing more to do. The rest would be up to you.

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