All My Sins

A dream

*Hi everyone, I know it's been a very long time since I've updated. I went through a really hard time this year and really lost my way. It's been years and I've grown as a writer, as a person... So while I may be a little detached from Marshall and Maureen, I'm determined to give them the ending they and you all deserve for years of support.*

Waiting till the sink water ran to a steam, she held her fingers beneath the stream long after her skin became red and irritated. Dishwater pruned her palms, bubbles trailed up her arms and round the stem of her wine glass which she occasionally rewarded herself with. Feeling rather domestic in an unconventional sort of way, it felt a moment that she might relive again and again.
Within her own reflection in the window above the sink, she could see herself after high-school and having finally moved on from it all.

She dared to imagine that she might live with someone, and in her future eyes she could see the same despair she felt presently. Paralyzed with the troubling thought that this painful adolescent longing for more out of life would never truly end or be fulfilled.

The once bitter-sweet notes of wine had begun to tune her mind, a rather sorrowful symphony. She felt so sad at the extinguishment of all the good feelings that Marshall had brought her. How feeling his attraction and want brought her a sense of feminine grace that she longed for deeply and subconsciously. Their forbidden times together had already begun to feel so intimate to her, she felt foolish for thinking it could all remain untainted. After all, it already was.

The more she considered it, as she tongued at her wine-stained lips and scrubbed thoughtfully at a pan, she realized what felt so overwhelmingly foreign to her among it all. He was able to sit across from her and willingly flirt with her Mother infront of her despite everything that had occurred between them. But that which burned more wrathful within her was that of jealousy. That she had been jealous of his giving someone else attention. She was ashamed of herself for having felt the need to compete with her own Mother for his attention. Fermenting in her pitiful insecurity and jealousy, glass after glass. In the moment, her own reflection seemed hardly different to her from that of her Mother's, and her heart broke at potentially having to accept that she was bound for the same destiny.

After finishing the dishes, as well as the remaining wine, she gulped at the realization that Marshall and her Mother had yet to return. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what could have transpired in the time that had passed, all too familiar with the games her mother played.
Forcing a shakey breath that threatened tears, she ascended the stairs to her room, accepting the loss she felt she ought to have expected all along.

Examining herself in her bedroom mirror, just as she had before going downstairs earlier in the night, a certain air of confidence that had envigorated her was now gone. Her mouth, a familiar sense of numb, and eyelashes heavy; she would submit herself to drunken fantasies till her eyes could no longer stay open.

Shedding back down to an oversized t-shirt for a night gown, she sat at the edge of her bed, trying to relax into the warm, spirit-drunken haze.

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"I can't help but think your visits are becoming a little less casual." Jillian sat down on a piece of patio furniture. She was mello and relaxed, as if she had done this many times before.

"Ya have to excuse me... I'm new to this and honestly didn't expect this from it."
Marshall began, surprised as how vigilant he was managed to be.

"I think it's admirable of you. Detroit Public school systems certainly need more teachers like you."

"Lotta kids there that need someone." Marshall could think of one in particular.