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The red and blue flashing lights of the cop cars were the only thing that distracted Marlowe's mind. Her eyes watered, tears threatening to fall, but she didn't let them.
Instead, she watched with a blank face as a group of men holding a stretcher passed her on the front porch and down into the ambulance.
The person covered in a white sheet: her mother.
It was the one time she had come home to say sorry, but her father had enough. Her presence wasn't wanted and her father made sure he would never see her face again.
Marlowe watched people pass by her, her hair blowing in her face. They were scrambling in and out of the house, taking photographs and questioning people.
A storm raged on around them, thunder rumbling loudly. There were a few times lightning stuck near by, and Marlowe's eyes flashed bright blue.
It was one of the only moments anyone could see the hurt filled in them. The pain that had built up for so long that was waiting to explode. The next person to touch her might just be the one thing that set her off and when Marlowe ever got touched, it was not for good reasons.
Rain poured down, echoing on the porch roof above her. Marlowe could see the water crashing onto the ground in front of her, but couldn't tell if any of her own tears had been a part of it.
"Marlowe," a muffled voice called out to her.
The blonde stayed still, her eyes transfixed on the red and blue lights directly ahead.
She didn't want to interact with anyone.
Why would she? Her abusive father had just killed her absent mother who came home and randomly apologized for everything she did wrong.
If only she wasn't living in this universe.
Marlowe prayed every night and wished upon every star she saw to be taken out of her miserable universe. She hoped someone was listening and would answer her soon.
Maybe one of the gods were listening. Although, she knew that was unlikely, because gods are just myths. Just like in her book that took up a majority of her time.
A fictional book. That's all it was.
"Marlowe Whitlock," the voice called again, less muffled than before.
This time, the blonde turned her head, seeing a man in a blue uniform. A belt that carries multiple weapons was wrapped around his waist and a walkie-talkie was strapped on his shoulder.
"Yes sir?" Marlowe responded, her voice hoarse from screaming all night.
She had tried fighting against her father, kicking and tugging him off her mother. Even if she had been absent in her daughter's life, at least she wasn't an abusing piece of shit.
That's what Marlowe thought of her father.
But Marlowe was just a girl. She had no strength or fighting skills compared to her father, who had participated in many bar fights in his days.
Eventually, Marlowe was thrown to the side, a glass plate shattering on her. It was enough to cut her up—blood dripping down her arms and the side of her face—but not enough to make her give up.
Marlowe gritted her teeth, standing up to the best of her ability. She wobbled, the room spinning in front of her. When she found her balance, she ran, full speed towards her father, tackling him to the ground.
The force knocked him off of her mother, who fell to the floor and gasped for air. She crawled towards the house phone, her shaky fingers dialing the numbers: 911.
From there, Marlowe's mother let the phone drop as she laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling and never taking a breath of air again. A single tear rolled down the side of her face and dampened the carpet beneath, but that was nothing compared to the blood that covered the room.
Marlowe screamed as loud as she could, squirming under her father's grasp. She had her hands pinned to the side of her head, her wrists bruising from how tightly he held on.
The blonde kicked and moved in any direction possible, but she was no match for a drunken man.
Her father's breath reeked of alcohol, which was nothing unusual to her. Marlowe had expected that and usually she knew what to do with the circumstances, but since her mother was home, things were different. She had to act on instinct, which got her in trouble.
Marlowe screamed, tears streaming down her face. Her cries for him to stop slowly turned to cries for help, but she knew no one would hear. No one ever heard her.
What she didn't know, was that the lady on the other end of the line said, "Police will be there in two minutes. Please hang on."
The woman on the other end of the line scrambled to get help to the house as quickly as she could. All she could hear was a little girl praying to be taken out of her life and placed in a new one. She wanted to die.
"Everything will be alright, sweetheart. Help will be there soon."
'Help' couldn't have shown up any faster. Marlowe didn't talk to anyone other than the one man who approached her.
She told him everything through choked sobs, her body shaking from anxiety and anger.
Marlowe didn't know what she expected to happen that night, but she didn't expect to end up an orphan.
Her mind was working overtime, her heart speeding up to a rate her body couldn't handle.
Marlowe felt her hand shaking as she stood in front of the officer, but that was normal.
Was it normal for her vision to turn blotchy?
Was it normal for her hearing to disappear?
Was it—
Marlow crashed, her body slumping on her front porch. She couldn't remember anything after that, but there was one thing she kept in thought as her mind slipped away and she exited the only world she ever knew.
If anyone is listening, please take me to a better place. Take me to a place I can call home.
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AUTHORS NOTE. prologue is up! i lowkey wrote this and was like daaammnnn. i didn't know where any of that came from, but i am loving it.
please comment and vote! if you have any suggestions or things you want to see, please don't be afraid to tell me. i love hearing it!
