"This feels too much like a fever dream to be real"
MARLEY ROXANNE was wrongfully convicted of a crime. A crime that a twisted alter, the worse part of herself, committed in self defense, an act Marley never participated in. She was used to taking t...
Chapter Ten: "You're just being dramatic, stop exaggerating"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
WIDOW LET OUT A YAWN AS SHE STEPPED AWAY FROM THE SPOTLIGHT. Her feet tapped loudly against the wooden stage, echoing through the darkness as the hot lights above shut off. She walked to backstage with slow and drawn out steps, eyes tiredly peering behind the curtains in search of Marley.
"Marley?" she called gently, throwing the red curtains behind her and stepping into the crowded backstage. She pushed past the boxes and technical equipment, uncaring as they smashed against the floor. It was Marley Roxanne's mind, if she wanted to, she could fix them.
It took her a few minutes to find the host. She was in the empty crowd on the cold floor, laying down as she drew aimlessly to calm her racing mind. Her legs swung absentmindedly as the were bent and pointed to the sky and she her her bottom lip locked between her teeth, deep in thought about her art.
"Peacemaker isn't angry, Marley," Widow assured as she stepped of the wooden stage, coming to sit beside the person she promised to protect. That was afterall her role as protector in the mind. "Nor does he know you do."
"What about Adrian?" Marley asked, biting on her nails as she paused her drawing. She pondered for a moment before pulling the page closer so she could reach the corner. A small flower found a home there.
Widow laughed, raising and eyebrow. "Oh, so we can refer to Adrian as his first name but not Peacemaker?" Despite her attempt at positivity and light teasing, her echoing and demonic voice made her sound annoyed and Marley had to take a quick glance at the beaten recreation of her to see the true emotion. Widow gave a wide grin, one that was decorated by a torn and blood lip, her bruised eyes lacking the emotion she wished to display.
"Adrian's... He's nice," Marley defended, turning back to her drawing. "I like him... He's... He's treating me like a human..." she finished off a small bird before glancing to the left as Widow sat next to her. "What do you think of him? Actually... What do you think of Peacemaker as well?"
Widow blew out a long breath, rocking back and fourth as she stared at the roof above their head. Her open wounds leaked small drops of blood, dark bruises seeming to grow worse as seconds passed. "Peacemaker seems like the type of jackass you want to avoid. He's got a lot of issues, surprised he hadn't snapped like you did."
Marley tilted her head, pushing herself to sit up. "What do you mean?"
"His father is the White Dragon. A racist douche bag from the old days, he was fucking horrible," Widow explained, purposely leaving the details of his father's reign out of the conversation. Marley was already fragile when it came to violence, she didn't need to know anything other then the fact Christopher Smith grew up with a racist fuck a his father. "I have no doubt he was abused too."
