Her delusions were a double edged knife, razor sharp no matter which end stuck her. They set her free, liberated her from the need to fit in, from the need to water down her personality and conform to society. Her mind gave her the power to act without consequence, the lawlessness of a town like Santa Ysabel only fuelling this madness further. Back in New York, things were different, her stories were much easier to write, because everyone around her stuck to the staus quo. Everyone, even Hadley, even herself, conformed. But, everything had changed in the past few years. She had become unhinged, her mind spiralling and she was deeper in the illusion that she’d ever been before. There was proof in everything that nothing was proof; that nothing was real. Things didn’t even hurt these days, nothing, save for the pain that coursed through her when Hadley would destory their story.Â
On other days, during other times, said delusions and thoughts would weigh her down. They would make her feel as if she were suffocating, drowning at the bottom of the ocean of reality with a thousand weights strapped to her ankles. It was during these times that Marilyne would fall deeper, consumed in her own insanity. Everytime she came back from an episode of drowning she was darker than she was before she had fallen, less whole, less in touch. The boy in front of her seems to notice the nothingness in her eyes, the black darkness of her soul, the kind of energy that made people realise that there was no rationality behind her actions. There was nothing scarier to human kind than a lack of rationality; a lack of an explaination.Â
She turns, almost instantly at Hadley’s cough, knife launching from her hand and skimming past the chef’s face to lodge in the wall behind her. Was she sure that the knife wouldn’t go into an eye? No. But, that was the fun, wasn’t it? “You don’t know the half of my anger, dear,” she bites back as the server scrambles away out the service door. The room appears to have been vacated now, the only ones who remain are them, and Alexander who appears to be stuck on his seat like a dear paralysed in the fear of the headlights of an oncoming truck. She listens to Hadley’s ramble, a sinister smile appearing on her features as she recounts how easily that restaurant went up in flames a year ago today. How poetic was it that it was the anniversary of that occasion? Yet again, more proof that this was all set up, that this was all staged, that it was meant to happen, that it wasn’t real.Â
“He had plans to change too much inside, he wanted to entirely ruin the image you had worked so hard to leave behind– I did that for you, Hadley, I did it to preserve your image. You should have seen his color scheme, you would have prefered it in flames, I know you would have,” she says as she watches Hadley take of her shoes with curiousity. Then, the shoes come her way and the woman takes off. Oh no, no no no, she was not running away again.Â
Marilyne chases after her, reaching down and ripping her dress so her movement is easier as she catches up. Her eyes drift to looking behind at the bobby pins littering the path they had taken until they burst through the fire door into the stairwell, Mar grabbing hold of Hadley and pushing them through. She continues their force across the landing and pins her against the cold, concrete wall with a force that would wind most people. “You don’t run from me, Hadley. Tell me, when has that ever worked in your favour, darling?” Her hand gripping onto the others jaw. “You really ruined my night on Halloween… You don’t get to ruin us. You know that we are meant to be together, that the world deems it so, that it’s written in the stars. I know you know that.”.
She knows exactly what Marilyne’s face will look like, can envision the pursuit as if she’s got eyes in the back of her head. Like a predator locked in on pray, but with more fiery vengeance in her eyes, with the hint of an exhilarated smile slicing her features open, lighting her up like a bonfire. Because as angry as she is, as furious and hurt and vengeful, deep down Hadley knows this is fun. Mar is having fun. Because a story with plots and turns and twists and conflict is the best kind of story. And that...that was why she’d woken up one day knowing they needed to be shaken up. Mar was becoming too comfortable, to snug against her side, had stopped seeing other people as often. As flattering as that was, if she couldn’t pull characters from a wide array of outside sources what would happen to her delusions, to the hysteria bubbling beneath her mind? What would happen to her if that more structured outlet was lost? Breaking up with Marilyne was...the most selfless thing Hadley had ever done in her whole life, a protective act, gasoline to fuel her precious little firestarter.
Hadley isn’t aware of how far she’s run until she’s slamming through the fire escape door. The echoes are magnified, ominous, vibrating against concrete and metal. Mar has hands on her, is pushing her through, their breath collides into a catastrophically beautiful symphony as Hadley is pinned against the wall. It would have hurt, maybe it did hurt, but Hadley laughed nonetheless. Laughed as Marilyne gripped her jaw, eyes molten lava and adoration.
“Who says I ruined us,” she challenged, voice slick and slithering. “I’m hardly responsible for your weakness, pet. You broke the rules. You broke our agreement. Broken rules lead to consequences in any and every story, do they not?” She turns her head with suddeness, grins as she bites down on the tender spot between Mar’s pointer finger and thumb. Not hard enough to draw blood, but oh there would be a bruise, there would be blossoming throbbing pain. She takes that chance to push forward, to wrap one arm around the curve of Mar’s waist and spin them around as if they were dancing. Her free hand works into those soft teasing curls and yanks the woman’s head sharply to the side, so that she can tease her tongue along the curve of that slender neck. “But do go on and be a good girl. Tell me how much you missed me.”
