The Wanted Missing

19

Emrie walked out into the cafeteria, rubbing her bruised shoulder. It had worsened just a little, but not a ton. She was bummed that Marsh and Marinette hadn't yet been allowed to bring her home. It was day four, and supposedly the guy who bothered her the first day was no longer afraid to come up to her, because he came to her at breakfast.

"Well, I guess cuties like you are feisty, huh?" He retorted, knowing perfectly well that she couldn't slam a door on him now. But little did he know sporks could hurt. Because once Emrie shoved the fork into the same arm that she slammed the door on. He didn't bother her again that day. He ran off whining about how she'd beat him up again, and Emrie snapped the spork in half, getting up from her table and heading back to her "cell", leaving her food uneaten.

She had no appetite. "Three days left." She whispered, hoping he'd leave her alone. She decided that if he bothered her again, there would be some serious issues going on. Ones that the officers might have to get involved in. She thought she might as well pull his black hair right out of his head. She felt kind of violent since she'd been here. It was getting to her. She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling, and sighed.

"Hopefully this will wear off..." She whispered to herself sadly. She didn't want to be so violent when she went back to Marsh. Or Marinette and Lunette. It wouldn't be too good if she completely exploded at them. She'd never done it before, and didn't feel like having it happen now. Emrie had no idea what the consequences could be, and didn't plan on figuring it out.

She looked down to her hands, tracing the marks in them with her eyes. Eventually she used her left hand to trace the crease on the right with her index finger. She held back tears, not wanting to seem weak, here of all places. She laid down and rolled over, facing the wall.

Marsh looked around his room, wondering if Marinette would let him redecorate. He started making ideas in his head, slightly getting his hopes up. He didn't know why, but it comforted him. Maybe thinking about it would give him something to distract him from Emrie's absence. He stood up, walking up to bare spaces on the walls and tracing shapes on them, imagining what could go there.

"Marsh?" A male voice said, gently knocking on the door.

Marsh stopped, dead still in the middle of the room, staring at the door in pure horror. "A-Alex?" Marsh replied quietly.

"Yes." The voice replied. "Marinette had me bring you your food. I told her what happened the other night."

"B-But how did you know it was me for sure?" Marsh asked, walking to the door and hesitantly letting Alex in. Alex was surprisingly calm, and not angry.

"Never mind that. Here." He said, basically pressing the plate into Marsh's chest. Marsh took it carefully, not wanting to spill the beans on the carpet. There was some sort of look on Alex's face that said 'I need to tell you something.' That was exactly it.

As Marsh took a seat on his bed, Alex began speaking. "Marsh, I need to tell you something." Marsh stopped with his mouth agape, with a roll halfway to his mouth. He slowly set it down as Alex continued.

"I've realized that I was overreacting when I found out about you and Emrie." He paused, and took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm sorry." Marsh was dumbstruck. Alex? Apologizing? Sure, he didn't know him that well, but still.

"Marsh? Marsh?" Alex said, waving a hand in front of the zoned out boy.