MARLEY // Max Mayfield

Time

It didn't matter what Robin and Nancy had said, it didn't matter what advice they gave her or how she decided to make her approach, it seemed Max was set on keeping a distance between them, even going so far as to rip the rift even larger. And Marley didn't know what to do. Was she supposed to just watch her from afar like some lost little puppy dog, worry and worry over what was to come, look but not touch as if she were staring upon some precious fucking painting? Or should she approach? The rift be damned, boundaries be broken. She didn't know and it was torture, physically, mentally -- wholly and truly. She was lost and left with the idea that the girl she loved was a target of a monster and nobody seemed to know what to do or how to resolve anything.

One thing she did know, however, was that crying wasn't going to help anyone.

The tap continued to run before her, pouring so heavily it muffled Marley's quiet groans as she carefully dragged a wet cloth across her bloodied skin, all of it black and sticky, the colour of tar with the consistency of mucus. She breathed through her nose, afraid that if she opened her mouth she may release the bile lodged in the back of her throat. Her hands -- her fingers twitched with every light brush against her arm, entire limb shaking as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the mirror.

A squelch came from the cloth when she dropped it back within the basin of the sink and she took a moment to gather herself, to prepare and to breathe before she shielded the wound with an adhesive patch and wound a long length of bandage around her arm. Done.

She dumped Steve's ruined jacket in the bathroom and left, pale-faced and droopy-eyed, a redness to them that evidenced a once rare occurrence. Dustin, Steve and a newly arrived Lucas looked up from their papers, growing hushed at her arrival and quieter at her appearance. They watched as Marley sat and stared off at Max, the girl at a desk, writing and writing just as she had been the entire night. Steve spoke first, expression pained at the state of his sister.

"How are you holding up?" he asked quietly and frowned when Marley didn't respond, didn't even react, not with a bat of her lash or a twitch in her brow. "Marley?"

Marley's eyes finally dropped, flickering to the floor where they stopped, unmoving.

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," she said quietly and reached out to one of the copied newspaper clippings, reading it over quietly to herself. Victor Creel Claims: Ancient Demon Killed Family, a real eye-catcher in its big and bold font. "Are we any closer to figuring this out?"

"Uh, well, no..." Lucas said, looking over at the rest of the boys hesitantly, "no."

"To be honest, I don't think any of us are understanding this, Mars," Steve offered solemnly, gesturing to the paper with a frown.

"Actually, it's pretty straightforward," Dustin shrugged and Marley looked over at him, the paper dropping slightly in her hand as she awaited his explanation. She was too tired to read and her eyes were betraying her.

"Oh, straightforward, really?" Steve muttered to himself and Dustin looked up at him, leaning forward.

"Well, what's confusing to you?" he said, "so far everyone Vecna has cursed has died except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He's the only known survivor."

Marley looked over at Max again, feet planting themselves solidly on the floor as if preparing to stand but she didn't and remained within her seat, teetering on the edge of the upholstery, almost rocking back and forth however slight, torn between sinking back and standing up.

"If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it's him," Dustin finished, gesturing to the headline.

"That's assuming he was cursed, Henderson, which we don't even know," Steve said, shaking his head frustratedly. "How can Vecna have existed in the '50s? It doesn't make sense."