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So Marlowe's dream started like this...
She was in a house. It was torn apart, with furniture turned upside down and glass from windows shattered on the wooden floor.
She turned her body in a full circle, taking in everything around her. Her eyes were wide, tears slowly falling down her cheeks.
Marlowe was in shock at what she was seeing. It was just a house, sure, but it was her house.
What the hell happened here? Marlowe thought to herself. Where's—
"Ah, yeah, this sucks," a male voice said from beside Marlowe.
She turned, seeing Apollo peel his sunglasses off and sigh. He looked at the ground sadly, scratching his head and not knowing what to do.
"What..." Marlowe didn't even know what to say. "What happened?"
"After you um," —Apollo made a motion with his hand going across his neck— "yeah, after that, the police did some investigating and this was the result."
"But— how? Why? What happened to...him?"
"Oh!" Apollo chuckled nervously, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around. "Well, he um, he's...in the...Underworld." He did some jazz hands awkwardly.
Marlowe just stared at him. Her father was dead? Good.
She looked around the house and towards the stairs that were in the corner. Marlowe ran up the stairs and down the hall towards her room.
She threw the door open, seeing everything gone. Her entire room was empty. There was not a single thing that Marlowe owned that was still in her room. It was like it had been abandoned for a long time.
"They took everything," Marlowe said to herself, walking around and running her hand along a bookshelf. Dust that collected on her finger, making her wipe it off hastily.
"Damn they really did a number on this room," Apollo said, standing in the doorway.
His usual cheerful attitude was gone. He now just clenched his jaw, wanting to get back at the people who did this to the poor girl.
"M—my clothes, my journals, my books!" Marlowe exclaimed, running to different spots in her room. "They took my entire life away!"
"I'm sorry, Marlowe," Apollo walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"No!" Marlowe screamed, shoving the sun god's hand off of her. "I can't! I can't—"
Marlowe's breathing got heavy, her hand clutching her heart. Her vision was blurring, her ears ringing.
What's going on? Why am I like this?
"I—can't—breathe," Marlowe managed to say, falling to her knees.
