Hi again!
One more for today. Maybe I updated one more time later, but probably I'll be kinda busy so I'll just try two more chapters tomorrow if it happens.
Good reading!
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Well, at the end of the day, the whole situation was more of a huge misunderstanding than anything else.
Marshall Lee was one step away from walking up to the two of them and starting a big fight. He was far from the jealous type, but rather the type to defend his friends' honor on the basis of violence.
But it wasn't necessary. All it took was Keila's time trying to stop him from screwing up for the truth to open up right in front of them.
When they turned their attention to where the other two were, they only saw Kevin leaning against the wall with a weird expression. Brad was already turning the corner at the end of the street. And there wasn't much time to worry about where he was going, as it was a matter of seconds between seeing the boy walk away, then realizing Kevin's eyes widen and then just having time to turn his face to the side and throw up. And then fall helplessly to the ground.
The next moment Marshall was on him, trying to lift him. The girls followed close behind, and as much as they were all a little mad at him, they felt in the air that something was wrong.
It took a while for Kevin to respond, but he eventually woke up. But he was so weird. He didn't talk a lot and didn't seem to recognize any of the three well.
It was Keila who noticed the tumbled glass. She recognized the object: it was a green cup, she had seen the same one in Kevin's hand a little earlier. For some reason, she took it and looked inside. There was a poorly dissolved pill inside of it.
At this point, Marceline had just reached them, trying to understand what all the commotion around the boy was about.
"Did you see anyone pour him a drink, Marcy?"
"About two hours ago I saw Brad give his cup. Why? What's going on here?"
Keila looked at Marshall and the two exchanged a worried look. Kevin was looking at the sky in a strange, glazed way. He was in no condition to communicate, let alone consent to anything.
The moment faded when Marceline's terrified voice broke the silence:
"Peebles, why the hell are you crying?"
[...]
The whole situation was stressful. Dealing with Priscilla breaking to pieces at the thought that she'd spent all that time in love with a guy capable of such a thing was too much for Marshall.
Dealing with Kevin the next day, scared and distraught, as it dawned on him the kind of horror that could have happened if he'd been alone with Brad somewhere else. It was too much for Marshall.
It was too palpable. It was all too understandable. Too much like something else, and he should have somehow moved on by now. It was more than stressful. And he did his best not to fall asleep that night, because he knew what was coming next. But he fell anyway.
~•~•~•~•~
He was on the sidewalk, his back to the house. He knew the narrow street that led to the driveway in front of him. He didn't want to turn around.
Wake up. Wake up, Marshall.
Didn't woke up. He could never wake up. He turned toward the house.
A big pool, a comfortable house, a long grassy backyard. Some of the summer days of his childhood had taken place there.
That wasn't a dream about his childhood.
He didn't want to go into the house, he knew what he would find there. He made his way to the pool just to clear up a doubt. And he was right.
There was a tray by the pool, filled with sandwiches. A jug of juice. Two cups. One of them was clean and untouched.
The other had a smudge of lip gloss and was lying on the floor, as if it had rolled a little way off the tray.
Marshall swallowed hard. He walked to the entrance of the house, sat on the step in front of the door and stayed there. He couldn't get in.
Wake up, fucker. I need to wake up. I need to wake up NOW.
But nothing happened. It was a too vivid dream. Pinching himself didn't help. Screaming didn't help. Crying didn't help. He just couldn't wake up.
So he sat there, hoping someone would wake him up. Maybe Kevin moved too much in bed. Maybe his mother would call for breakfast. Maybe Marceline came bursting into the room because she had good gossip.
And well, he heard his sister's voice. But it wasn't to wake him up. He would have preferred not to have heard.
"Help me. Help me, please."
No. Not again.
It was so strange to feel the heart beat against the rib cage like that in a dream. It was so strange to feel the tears right on his cheeks.
He entered the house.
Marceline was on the living room floor again. Naked. She sat hugging her legs. When she lifted her head, she had a trickle of blood running from her nose. Blood marks on the floor and dried blood running down between her legs.
"You weren't going to help me, right Marsh?"
He didn't answer. He knew it was no use, she would say the same things regardless of the answers.
"You needed to keep an eye on me. You were the one who asked for a sister. You chose me, Marsh."
It wasn't anger in her eyes, and that was what broke him. When Marceline was angry, she was poisonous. She pinched the wound on purpose. And it was that smirk, that sneer on her face when she knew she was in a superior position. Her eyes glowing with anger. It was scary, but it was a pose that somehow suited her. Which Marshall Lee had learned to live with.
But in those dreams, there was no sign of anger in her. She looked so small. Confused. Lost. She didn't seem to understand how this could have happened, and she was asking for answers Answers Marshall didn't have.
"I know I did things I shouldn't have done that day, Lee. I know I should have..."
"It's not your fault. It's. Not. Your. Fault."
As much as he knew the futility of arguing in those dreams, he always interrupted that part. Hearing her blame herself was always the last straw. This time, she really went silent. She nodded a yes. Maybe it was Marshall's subconscious recognizing that she already knew that now. That she had begun to move forward.
But it wasn't a dream about her guilt.
"You always say you know me better than anyone, Marsh. More than twenty-four hours. How come you didn't think right away that I was with him? It was so… possible. Almost obvious."
He swallowed hard. He thought about it all the time. Marceline only disappeared with her friends. All he had to do was call every member of the band and he would have known that she could only be with Ash. Mayne she would be found before. Maybe soon enough to minimize the damage.
"Marsh... Alright, you've known me for only three years. Maybe it wasn't long enough, but... you grew up with him. Never realized he was a monster?"
She was staring at him so lost. It wasn't like she intentionally wanted to blame her brother, she was just crazily looking for an answer. Marshall was the one blaming himself.
He's the one who couldn't conceive the idea of spending his entire childhood next to a guy and not realizing he could do it. How could he not know?
Because if he only knew, maybe that afternoon would be different.
The sister got up, walked a few steps and stopped in front of him. He couldn't move. She only sobbed through her tears.
"Where were you that afternoon, Marshall?"
"He... decided not to go with us."
"Why, Marsh?"
It hurt. It hurt so much it was hard to breathe.
"Because he said he was thinking about going home and calling you. The boys wanted to insist, but I said he could go."
"Why?"
He swallowed hard.
"Because I was fed up with him complaining about the breakup all the time."
It was so quiet and cold there. Marceline spent almost two whole days there. In the cold. In the silence. In Ash's personal hell.
She smiled in such a sad way, and Marshall didn't want to wake up anymore. He wanted his heart to stop beating, and then he would never dream of that again.
"Why did this happen, Marshall? Why?"
She started to cry. He brushed a long lock of hair out of her face. He missed her long hair strangely. She looked beautiful with them around her neck, but he knew why Marcy never let it grow like that again.
He left a kiss wet with tears and guilt on her forehead.
"I think I let it happen, little bat."
~•~•~•~•~
Marshall woke up bathed in sweat. Cheeks wet with tears.
Kevin wasn't in the room. It was past 10:30. He was shaking from head to toe.
He pulled on the first shorts and T-shirt he saw and ran into the kitchen. He stopped at the door and watched.
Marceline was laughing uproariously at some joke she had made herself, probably at Kevin's expense. The boy rolled his eyes at her, but kept a slight smile.
Bonnibel shook her head, as if her girlfriend's dubious mood was something she was very used to. Megan hurried through the kitchen, taking an apple from the basket in the middle of the table.
"Guys, I'm late. See you later. Don't destroy anything and don't get anyone pregnant."
"That you should tell Lee," said Marceline, trying to stop another burst of laughter.
"MARCELINE!", Kevin said, his whole face turning red. No, he didn't have dysphoria at the idea of being able to get pregnant, but he definitely didn't want to discuss it with Marshall's mom.
The three ended up bursting into laughter, while Megan stared at them in disbelief. That's when the sound of a sob broke through the kitchen.
"Marshall?"
Marceline was the first to notice her brother. Her expression creased in concern when she saw him crying.
He stared at her for a moment. Then he walked to her sister, gave her a kiss on the forehead and stepped out. On the way out, he slammed the door.
The four looked at each other, confused.
Marshall walked to Central Park. It was still a little chilly for shorts and a T-shirt, but he wasn't too worried about that. He sat on a bench and let the tears fall.
She seemed so fine lately. Seeing her at the breakfast table eating and laughing with everyone had become a normal part of the routine again. Of course, there were the bad days. Her therapist and psychiatrist were studying a diagnosis of depression. She wouldn't magically heal overnight. There were relapses.
But they seemed a little less frequent. Or, at least, Marceline had learned to accept their existence and deal with them.
Things were going well, as far as possible. She had started to get over it.
If the biggest victim of it all was getting on with her life, why couldn't he do the same?
[...]
"Marshall, you know it's not your fault. Right?"
Kevin looked at his face for answers. His expression remained neutral.
It was already March and the weather was much milder now, with spring just days away. The snow had disappeared and it was already possible to see a few leaves returning to the trees. It was still necessary to be at least in sweatpants and a jacket, but it was bearable to be outdoors, sitting on a picnic blanket in the middle of Central Park, as the two of them were.
Marshall remained silent for a while, watching two children play in the park. They were two boys, approximately 8 years old. They laughed loudly and ran after each other. Marshall wondered if one of them could grow up to be deplorable. And if the other would even notice it.
"I encouraged him to go after my sister just so I wouldn't have to deal with his 'straight annoyance' that day, Kevin," Marshall said finally, making quotes with his fingers. "I wanted to hang out with Bongo and Guy and talk about boys. And Ash always got annoyed hearing us talk about boys. He wanted us to change the subject, which is at least a little suspicious for a guy who's in a band full of LGBT folks and just got dumped by his girlfriend who turned out to be a lesbian. How the hell does a person give such clear indications that they're a shit homophobe and you push them to your sister just so you don't deal with him? Your lesbian sisters, who broke up with him for being a lesbian!"
Marshall crumpled up a can of soda with worrying ease. Then he lowered his head with his other hand tangled in his hair, upset.
"If I had spent that afternoon listening to him complain about how he didn't understand why Marceline took so long to understand herself, and that sometimes it didn't make sense in his head how she seemed to enjoy being with him, kissing and touching him, things would be different. I just had to tell him to shut the fuck up. All I had to do was tell him he was out of the band if he continued to be such a bigot. And then I would call Marceline's attention to these things and she would be more attentive with him."
A few moments of silence passed before he concluded his reasoning, his voice breaking.
"But no. He said that maybe talking to her a little would help restore the friendship times, I thanked the universe that he wouldn't be bothering us and let him go. I spent the afternoon talking about good-looking guys and my sister spent the next thirty-six hours in captivity being raped."
Kevin had to take the soda can out of his hand, because he kept squeezing the object, which was starting to cut his palm.
"Lee, I'm going to ask you a very straightforward question and you're going to just answer me with yes or no, okay?"
"Say it."
"Did you sexually abuse your sister?"
"What? NO!"
"So you're not the fucking one to blame."
Marshall started him with a hard gaze. Kevin held on without batting an eye.
"Marshall, I understand your line of reasoning here. Your attitude that day may have even given him a chance to do that, but I'll tell you something: if you had told him to follow you to the skate park, nothing would have changed."
"How can you know that for sure?"
It was all planned, Marsh. He had a fucking prescription drug to dope her. He knew there would be no one in the house that day, and you yourself said that some of his uncles used to spend weekends there too. I don't know if you noticed, but he was the one who hinted that he would go home and maybe talk to your sister. He wouldn't go with you. He would make an excuse. And if he didn't do it that day, he'd find a way to do it another time. He was a crazy psychopath and wouldn't give up until he gave your sister the 'punishment' he thought was appropriate. Unless were found evidence of his intentions that could land him in prison before the facts, you couldn't help it. She couldn't help it. Maybe an adult, but he would have to be very suspicious, which he knew very well to avoid."
Marshall listened in silence. His expression was still hard and angry, but his eyes gleamed in a way that only hinted at sadness.
"There's only one to blame for all this, Marsh," Kevin continued, risking approaching and resting his chin on the other's shoulder. Marshall didn't back down. "Ash is to blame. And everyone knows it. Marceline knows it. You have to accept that too."
"But..." Marshall started, but didn't quite know how to finish. He felt so tired. "But what if I could have somehow avoided it? You have no idea what it was like to see my sister die inside her own body. Knowing that I was the person who introduced the two of them, the person who had been friends with the abuser since he was 5 years old. Kevin, there's no one else in the world I've loved more than Marceline. I think more than our own mom. She's the best thing in my life and... she thought about killing herself, you know that? My sister wanted to die. My sister wanted to disappear from existence. And she was out of touch for so long, and it was hell to live for years with a carcass that no longer had my sister inside, unable to bring her back. I just want to go back in time and stop that from happening."
"Marshall, you can't-"
"I want to stop anything that could have harmed her," he continued, cutting Kevin off. "I want to prevent her biological mother from dying, I want to prevent her father from being on the brink of misery after illegal immigration. I don't care if in this universe we'll never be brothers, I just care that in this universe she's not loaded with trauma and I'll never, ever have to see my sister naked, bleeding, looking at me from the ground like she expects me to save her from something when I can't stop it from happening anymore."
Now he was crying openly, and so was Kevin. Marshall hugged his legs and Kevin hugged him next.
"But you can't, Marsh. All you can do is try to be okay and be on her side right now. She needs you as much as you need her. And she'd hate to see you like that."
And he was right. Kevin consoled his friend, watching the large lake in front of him. His picnic blanket was in front of a large tree. Big enough that you couldn't see if someone sat on the other side of it.
And on the other side, Bonnibel stroked the hair of a Marceline slightly regretful of having followed her brother to find out why he was so weird lately.
She sure as hell hated seeing him like that.
[...]
Marshall Lee had spent yet another lazy Saturday locked in his room. This was too much like his own sister's behavior at low moments, but he didn't want to think about it too much.
Suddenly, he heard music in the backyard. More specifically, just below his window. Probably the kitchen speaker. And in sequence, Marceline's voice.
There is not a single word
In the whole world
That could describe the hurt
The dullest knife just sawing back and forth
And ripping through the softest skin there ever was
How were you to know?
Oh, how were you to know?
He tried to suppress a sad smile before heading to the window. Marceline was sitting under the big tree opposite his window, where the tree house where they had spent much of their preteen years together still stood. She was holding an already frayed Hambo in her lap.
He couldn't help but smile slightly at the scene. Marceline and her eternal cheesiness, her eternal passion for serenades.
And I, I hate to see your heart break
I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close
But I've been there before
And I, I hate to see your heart break
I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close
But I've been there before
She greeted him with the same sad smile. Marshall couldn't help but notice that as much as she could have taken the instruments out into the backyard and gotten the entire band to join in the moment, she didn't.
That was between them. It was hers for him alone, and the fact that she was alone there, the speaker next to it, spoke for itself.
She wasn't doing this to smooth things over. She just didn't blame him for anything. Absolutely nothing.
He went down the fire escape, walked over to his sister, and sat with his back to her. She bowed her head until it touched his and continued.
Love happens all the time
To people who aren't kind
And heroes who are blind
Expecting perfect scripted movie scenes
Who wants an awkward silent mystery?
How were you to know?
Oh, how were you to know? Oh, oh
The still slightly chilly early spring breeze ruffled his fur. He looked up at the tree house. He looked around at the house and backyard. He could almost hear the heavy footsteps of two 11-year-olds running. The high-pitched, childish laugh. And then he could almost see an eleven-year-old Marceline running, dressed as a vampire, carrying Hambo in one arm. And he was right behind, also screaming.
In reality that birthday afternoon, they were both running from Ash in a game of tag. But in Marshall's newest happy memory, he was the one chasing her, but in the end let his newest little friend win. And later that night, he would go to sleep with the certainty that he had found his sister.
He took a deep breath and allowed calm to take over as he listened to the sweetness of Marceline's voice.
And I, I hate to see your heart break
I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close
But I've been there before
And I, I hate to see your heart break
I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close
But I've been there before
For all the air that's in your lungs
For all the joy that is to come
Up until this point, Marceline maintained her composure. She sang in a light, low tone. But in the second half of the bridge, she felt the need to make herself clear. She turned to her brother and sang those lines in a higher key, looking him in the eye and holding tightly to his hand.
For all the things that you're alive to feel
Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal
Oh, how were you to know? (How were you to know?)
Oh, how were you to know?
They were now both facing each other, their faces so close they almost touched foreheads. Marshall nodded, slowly. He had understood. He would do his best to improve too.
And then together they finished the song.
(Marceline e Marshall Lee)
And I, I hate to see your heart break
I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close
But I've been there before
And I, I hate to see your heart break
I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close
But I've been there before
The final instrumental lasted over a minute. And for all that time, they both remained silent, eyes closed, just acknowledging each other's presence.
And even when the song was over, they stayed that way a little longer. It was Marshall who broke the silence.
"When did you get him again?" he asked, lightly touching one of the little teddy bear's button eyes. It needed to be sewn on one side.
"I was about 7 years old. I was mad at Simon because he didn't give me a candy before dinner," Marceline said, with a laugh that exuded nostalgia. "I didn't speak to him the whole next morning. So he took me to school, and when he picked me up he had Hambo in his hand, and said I could keep it if I promised not to ignore daddy ever again. And eat my dinner every time."
"And you obeyed like the good daughter that you are," he said, his tone slightly mocking, because he knew very well what the answer was.
"Of course I did. But first I stole the cookie jar that same nigh and ate until my stomach hurt."
The two burst out laughing. Marceline then looked at the backyard, as if she remembered something.
"Remember when we played tag on our first anniversary together? Before mom adopted me?"
"Is it weird that I remembered exactly that earlier?"
"Of course not, everyone knows that the Matrix glitches sometimes," she joked, making her brother laugh. "Well, that very day, He Who Must Not Be Named wanted to throw Hambo into a mud puddle because he didn't like to lose."
"I don't remember anyone dressed up as Voldemort that day, Marcy. The theme was vampires, not wizards."
"Fuck you," he chuckled as she gave her so characteristic eye roll. "I could have realized that day that he was such a childish bastard. And maybe we would have walked away from him. Or when he got mad because we didn't allow him to be the second singer. Or when he got into silly arguments with the girls."
Marceline took a deep breath and looked around the yard a little longer, then looked at her brother and completed, in good old Marceline fashion.
"All I'm saying is, maybe he did give some hints of being a asshole, yes. But for the most part, he did a great job acting as a good friend. And we were kids. You had no obligation to know, do you hear me? So stop blaming yourself for that son of a bitch did, because otherwise I'll be forced to dig up his body and do some wizarding ritual to make sure he suffers for eternity, then I'll be arrested and the band will go to hell. Our friends will be very sad."
"Or maybe we'll release a music video when you get out of jail and it gets 50 million views in a week. After all, who doesn't want to hear the music of the crazy rocker who does witchcraft with the bodies of abusers?"
"Marshall."
"I got it, Marcy. But you know damn well I'm not very good with drama."
"Neither am I. But seriously, okay? It's not your fault."
"Okay... Okay, Marcy. It's not my fault."
"And you're fucking doing therapy from now on."
"But what-"
"I don't wanna know! I've become a therapy freak. You are going to therapy because now I've created a new rule for the band, and only those who go to therapy will be able to go on tour."
"You can't just make rules out of thin air! Or make me go to therapy, what the fuck?"
"Oh really?"
"REALLY!"
"Well, ok. But I know who can."
She got up and he followed. Standing up, she stared at him seriously for a few seconds, then started running into the house.
"MOOO! TELL MARSH HE WON'T BE ABLE TO JOIN THE ALBUM RELEASE TOUR IF HE DOESN'T GET THERAPY!"
"THAT'S CHEATING!"
The two ran into the house, laughing. And for a good moment, it was as if nothing had changed.
Marceline and Marshall Lee were just two troublesome little vampires running around the house.
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My babies 🤧❤️
Well, what did you think? Don't forget to comment, and leave your vote if you liked it!
See you in the next chapter!! xx
- Tersy ❤️