Anonymous

11

Marceline rolled over in her bed, blindly patting her nightstand in search of her phone. She knocked a few things off while she was at it – mostly just empty soda cans and irrelevant papers she'd dumped on there – and finally, her hand came in contact with the cold device.

She pulled the charger out so she could roll over again and snuggle back down where she'd been laying most of the night. The sheets were warm and the pillow was just right, which was why she always stuck to the right side of the bed. She didn't particularly know why she liked being near a wall, but she'd always stayed near there.

She pressed the home button on her phone and frowned at the time. 11:17AM. Fantastic.

Pushing her messy onyx locks from her face, she glanced around her room and eventually ended up looking at the door. She was aware that she should probably get up and get some breakfast, but she knew that her dad would be lurking in the kitchen.

(An argument about how late she was waking up? No thanks.)

Instead, she pushed herself up from her bed and headed over to her dresser, brushing her hair as best as she could. She wouldn't have time to shower – another reason why her mood had already turned sour – so she pulled her hair back into a messy bun and shrugged off her pyjamas in favour of a blue and white flannel shirt and a pair of skinny jeans.

Then, she flopped back on her bed and grabbed her phone. The only kind of human interaction she could deal with right now was non-physical.

Marceline (11:26AM): hey

Marceline (11:27AM): any advice for dealing with a pretentious dickhead when you've only just woken up?

That was a question she desperately needed answering, because today, Bonnibel was coming over so they could work on their science project. The princess would be expected in half an hour, and Marceline honestly couldn't care less about a project for her dad's class.

She didn't like science and she wasn't good at it. What was the point in trying? Obviously, she'd do it – there was no contest between homework and her father's wrath – but she never put any actual effort into it.

She had a feeling that the prissy princess would make her try. She really wasn't in the mood.

Marceline pushed open her bedroom door and slid her phone into her pocket, her footfalls as light as they possibly could be. Alerting her dad of her presence wasn't a smart move. She quickly ducked into the bathroom when she saw him at the bottom of the stairs, fiddling with his car keys.

Good, Marceline thought, means he's going somewhere.

But that also meant she'd be alone in the house with Bonnibel. Nobody to stop her from giving her a black eye if she was as annoying as usual.

(Of course she wouldn't actually do that, but Bonnie was incredibly irritating.)

She waited until she heard the front door close and her dad's car come to life in the driveway before venturing downstairs. She checked Marshall's room on the way, but apparently he was already out. Probably hanging with Guy or something.

She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of cereal, eating it at kitchen table in solitude. It was peaceful, having the house to herself. She could blast any music she wanted, have brownies for every single meal, or be in complete control of the remote control.

One thing Marceline didn't like about being home alone, was how there wasn't anything around to distract her from her thoughts. And usually, her brain wandered down a rabbit hole and she ended up imagining horrific scenarios of something happening to Keila, or her brother, or her friends. Maybe even her dad, at a push.