ʜ ᴏ ʟ ʏ

50.

You could best believe that Marcy followed through with the request from Darren the day the job started. There was no way she was going to miss the opportunity for the funds she would be taking in, even if deep down she knew Bonnibel would disapprove of her actions from afar. But hell, she was doing it all for her. She was doing it so they could have a future together, so she could provide for their family in the making, so she could do everything she promised her. That determination lead her to where she currently stood, firmly planted infront of a familiar tall oak door. She had awoken earlier than wanted to walk the trip to Darren's house and only now she was arriving. She contemplated asking Guy or Bongo for a lift but Marceline just didn't want to drag them into her mess or even let them know what she was doing in the first place. They had done enough for her, and dragging them in her web of shit wasn't exactly a way she wished to pay them back. Marceline rocked on her feet, nestling her hands deep within the pockets of her dull gray jacket, waiting for her silent knock delivered to the door to be acknowledged. A minute into aimlessly awaiting his presence, the door pulled back to reveal him, groggy eyes and a smile. "Marceline, good to see you man." He spoke dimly, pulling her into his firm grasp, her arms wrapping around his wasit slightly. He pulled back and made room for her to squeeze in, commenting about the chilly weather in the process. She hauled herself to the kitchen table in the center of the house, her nose greeted by the brewing smell of brown. "You don't seem to be awake yet." He said, eyeing her from behind the counter where he positioned himself. His words were much true. As much as she wanted to, her request for sleep the previous night were denied. She couldn't sleep when all she did was think about her. They were always the good thoughts, their happy memories together, and that alone deprived her eyes from rest much needed. Marceline nodded. "Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night." No response was given besides the sound of rummaging and clatter emerging from the kitchen. Seconds latter her returned to the table, setting down a white mug filled to the brim with the brown liquid. "This should do the trick. Drink up Marcy." She thanked him silently, not hesitant to put the rim on her lips and allow the flow of piping hot liquid to pool in the barrier of her mouth and down her throat. The sensation of the stinging warmth allowed her to be a little less droopy than usual. She set the mug down. "Thanks." "No probelm kid, you're gonna need it for today." When Darren returned from the kitchen with his own mug, he situated himself at the chair across from her own, a serious look mantling his face. "The supplier is coming in today. He's gonna set the profit he wants in return, the date, and what he wants slinged out along the streets. After that we section up the drugs." Marceline nodded, finishing the remains of her coffe. "But I need you to be on your best behaviour you hear me? Im just getting used to him as my new supplier since the last one died and im telling you Marcy, this guy does not fuck around at all and won't hesitate to-" his warning was interrupted by the knock on the door. His posture quickly shot up and his hands clenched slightly. Standing to his feet, he looked down on Marcy. "No fucking around you got that?" She nodded. Being completely honest Marceline didn't know what the big deal was until the door was open, and her eyes laid upon the man. He was big and puffed out, all the muscles and tattos she was sure he had concealed by a heavy jacket, though the colorful ink inched up from his neck, stopped at his jaw, and continued up splotched around places on his face and bald head. Not only was he buff, tated up, and ripped, but as if his strength alone wasn't enough to protect himself, he tottted a gun, as well as the two guys behind them, the outline print buldged through their pockets. They looked to be products of the horrid town. Marceline tried not to convey her fret through her eyes and instead focused on the wooden patterns of the table, drowning out Darrens welcoming dialouge, only coming back in when a bag was slammed on the table, looking up to see the owner of it. His vicious eyes periced hers. "Who's this?" Of course his voice was deep and raspy, only fitting the description of his body. Darren was by her faster than he was at the door. "Michael this is my new business partner Marceline, Marceline this is Michael." The man held out his meaty hands, Marceline's only taking up a small portion of the space when she shook. Moving on to more important matters, the gnarly man gestured his head to the bag with a tilt, one of his minions quickly rushing to unzip in, letting its content scatter across the table. She feasted her eyes on all the powdered and compressed glory. The white powder took up all the space of the plastic rap it was concealed in while the sized pills sat cornered in the oarnge prescription bottles. She could read from the small label that hugged the bottle, quickly learning the contents was ecstasy. Her mind soared. "I moved you up from that kid shit you were slinging. Your slinging exos and coke now." Darren nodded agreeingly, beads of sweat forming on his forhead. Not like he had another choice. Even if he wanted to deny the offer, he stood no chance against the men and guns. Michael turned to Darren, who's arms were crossed with anticipation, his thumb and finger stroking the flimsy hairs present on his chin. "I'll give you until the 1st of October to sell this entire bag. You already know how ration off portions and what to charge for, I'm expecting half of what you make back. Got it?" Darren shook his head yes. "Alright then." Michael finally shifted from his resting position at the head of the table and moved towards the door, not refraining from saying "and I want my duffle bag back" on the way out. As soon as the sound of the door clicking shut fled their ears, the duo surpassed a sigh they didn't even know was held in the first place. Darren was the the first to speak. "Shit that guy is scary. I miss Jack, he was less intimidating." He sighed once more, walking to the table and glancing down at the product, taking the bag of coke in his hands and examining it closely. "We can section these off to grams tomorrow. As of now..." There was a hint of mischievous on his face when he stared. He set the white filled bag down, reaching into his pockets and taking out his very own plastic. "Wanna get high?" He shook his baggie for emphasis. She was guessing it was acid. As much as Marceline wanted to say no, to suppress her need for drugs, the thought of escaping seemed to good to let down at the moment. Looking up from the bag and to his eyes, she shook her head. "Sure."

Darren was collapsed on the couch, giggling about nonsense and talking to himself, waving his arms around the air trying to catch the things he envisioned above him. Marceline had concealed herself in the guest bedroom, lying on the bed, waiting for herself to sober up before beginning to walk home so she could make it there before Guy and Bongo and not sprout any suspison between them. The tab fueled her viens with adrenalin and powered on her mind, and yet she couldn't help but feel so sunken and sluggish. She sat up, the psychedelic drug she allowed to melt on her tounge shaking her vision of the room. She almost blacked out when she looked up to see who was perched ahead of her. Tears threatened to spill her eyes, her pupils concealed behind the thin coat of tears, only falling when a hand was brought to her cheek. "Baby, don't cry." The thumb caressed her cheek weakly, the girl shitfing closer to her and planting ghostly kisses on her cheek. Marceline then broke, letting the tears reek havoc on her cheeks and stream down to the sheets below her. "Your not real." The girl made no attempts to protest her words, just planting her savory kisses to her cheeks and the corner of her lips. Despite the words that burrowed from her mouth, she buried herself deep within her grasp and let her arms dangle meaninglessly at her waist. She breathed in her smell, the warm rumbles from her stomach awakening when the girl softly fondled her back, the other hand playing with her hair. "Your not real, your not real, your not real." Marcy uttered the words over and over again until the beautiful angel was gone, and there was no one joined with her in bed, calming her soothingly with her touches and the whispers of sweet nothings into her ears. She had lost that warmth the minute she left Keila's. She's been cold eversince.