ʜ ᴏ ʟ ʏ

5.

One could say the dreadful weather that loomed outside could fit the mood of the girl settled in the stiff chair of the visitation room. Gloomy. Very gloomy. Clouds that heaved downwards with ran spewing from their bottoms, and cold wind that greeted the skin of outsiders. Her eyes could only settle on her fingers that fumbled in a clamp sweat, to afraid to face the door. Today was saturday, the day she freeted all week, the day her uncle would come for a meeting. Early in the morning the girl was drawn from her sleep by the principle awaiting her at the door, which woke a curious Marceline who would probably be next. And now she sat, in the blank room painted white with a viewing screen covered by blue drapes. Her mind could only imagine the things the holy man would do without the view of staff. The unsettling sound of keys plunging into the hole in a twist drew her weary thoughts away, and to the door her eyes slouched. In the doorway stood the man, the principle accompanying his side. The man only pulled a fake smile for the woman, but once the rickety door croaked shut, his face went sour. The few seconds of silence that settled the room didn't help the peaking anxiety that coated her body in fear. "Is it true?" The raged voice sounded. Bonnibel sat still in terror. His face twisted into a sinister glare, his hand slamming down on the table infront of them. "Is it true?" He spoke over once more. Out of panic she looked down at her feet and shook her head quickly. She didn't deserve this. "Look at me when im talking to you!" He spoke, his heavy hands gripping her chin and forcing her face into his gaze. Daggers were planted in his eyes, almost as piercing as Marceline's. Bonnibel was almost suprised to hear a chuckle fall from his mouth and his hand release her face. His long strides around the girl plastered in the chair filled the room along with his low laughs. His eyes closing and his lips pulling into a smile, he snickered. "I should've known. A deadly sinner as such couldn't keep away from trouble at all. First week here and your already being consumed by desire. Your mother and father would be dissa-" "Don't." The girl spoke over the man, spite seeping through her speech. The man stoped in his tracks and stared at the girl like she was a mad man. Though on the outside she held her composure, she was cowering on the inside. First came the shallow looks earned from her uncle, and this his fist. His knuckles sunk into the side of her cheek and grazed off, taking the foundation with it. Bonnibel hit the ground in a instant, the cold tile freezing her pressing skin. The side of her face thrived in pain, along with the fist of her uncle, the man examining his make-up covered knuckles. "What is this now?" He questioned with in a chortle. "Make-up? What are you hiding?" Bonnibel tried her best to crawl away to the corner with the dizzy vison she obtained but the pastor was quick to grab her face and yank a old napkin from his pocket. "No! Stop!" She struggled against a hold she was no match for. The man scrubbed her face clean of make up, making sure to wipe over her newly formed bruise. "Ah, fighting I see? Or did you get beat up?" The man dropped her face back to the floor. "Me out of all people, I thought I taught you to defend yourself better." For a pastor, this was far from holy. No man should be able to put his hands on a child in such way, especially blood family. The taunts that echoed from his mouth enraged her. Mustering up the smallest bit of strength she could, Bonnibel gripped the edge of the table. Her figure was razzled. Pink hair tustled, mouth ajar with blood escaping, and crooked glasses. In as bad shape she was in, Bonnibel didn't care when she drew back a wad of red spit in her mouth and released it on the face of the pastor. The clump of saliva slithered down his cheek and to the floor. And then his fist returning to her face, over and over, and over.

"Come again." The low voice of Marceline planted in the ears of the listening girl, the small plastic baggy slipping into the hands of the student as she stalked away. Marceline pulled back the dollar bills and stuffed them into the pocket of the plaid skirt. It was no time to be outside really, being that the droplets of water hurled down from the puffs of clouds and into the weary grass. But under the protection of the tree, her body was saved from a few more droplets than wanted. Just a few other bills to follow her collection jar. Her hope. But even with the consuming thought of money roaming her mind, Marceline couldn't bring herself to take away the thought of her roomate. The way her face deadpaned in the morning upon being retirved from the room at wee hours was enough to make Marceline worry. But her mind wouldn't allow it. It had tended to do that lately, replacing her wondering thoughts of the girl with her life instead. She probably had it better than Marcy ever would. She probably had a concerned mommy and daddy come down on the school to address the rumors spread by staff. She probably had the good life, a privleged family only worried about their sacred daughters desieres of woman. Even better than Marcy. Atleast she had people who showed concerns about her. For all she knew, her father probably declined the call from school and worried about everything but his own daughter, as always. He could care less if she was hit by a 1 ton bus and killed. It was always just working time for him. Marceline surely knew her father wouldn't come to the school to check on her, but she needed a way to express her emotions and let them rain free. And Bonnibel was her one way ticket. The fight had nothing to do with her father being called. Bonnibel was her escape. Hell, fighting all together was her escape. Who needs to talk feelings out when you got your two front hands? Surely Marceline didn't. Shutting off the thoughts that paced her mind, Marceline made a dash from the narrow tree and back into the exit in which she emerged. A few raindrops soaked her body but she didn't mind now, focused to heading back to place her new possessions in her jar. From the exit, down the right hall, and straight past the gym, Marceline was at the dorm in no time. Her hands took the door knob into her grasp and pulled it open, almost alarmed at the girl facing the wall tucked into her bed. The room was dark, cold, and held a depressing mood. Seeing her roomate tucked into her bed was the only normal thing occurring in the room so Marceline moved past her and to her side of the room. The money from her pocket was deposited in a jar holed away in its hiding place. And everything was ok up until five minutes. Marceline had layed back on her bed with nothing better to do and faced the dark ceiling above, making out pictures from the caked ceiling paint. Everything was fine. Up until the sniffles of her roomate filled the dead quiet room. It started of small, and within the passing minutes turned into sobbing. At this point, Marceline's chest had caved in at the depriving crys. Marceline was never one for comforting one another but hearing the lonesome sobs turned something within her. Pulling herself up from the warm mattress and approaching Bonnibel's side of the room, she stared aimelessly at her back before speaking. "Bonnibel." Her hand snaked up from her side and placed softly on the shoulder of the weeping girl. Her sobs didn't seize. "Bonnibel." Marceline approached in a much calmer tone. Even though she continued to cry, Bonnibel took a moment to let the idea settle in before turning around on the bed and revealing herself to Marceline. The girl ahead was almost shocked at the state that Bonnibel held. Ontop of her healing bruises were plenty of new ones scattered on her face under the silent drip of her tears. "Shit." Marceline whispered under her breath, breaking her contact from Bonnibel and planting herself at the edge of the bed. Just looking at girl made fury erupt from within herself. Marceline didn't know who beat her up but already wanted to put their life to a end. She kept that to herself. Bonnibel used her hands to wipe away her tears, careful not to put pressure on any other bruises. "My uncle came today." Her voice hiccuped from crying. "He didn't take the rumors so well." Taking it upon herself, Marceline wrapped her arms around the girl, Bonnibel's arms returning the favor and her head hanging on the shoulder of Marceline with a trickle of tears down her cheek. And in her arms the girl cried, holding on to Marcy as if her life deepened on it. And not once did Marceline let go. Marceline had never done this before for anyone, not even her own blood, but Bonnibel seemed to need it the most. It didn't matter who you were but no one deserved that, and Marceline took it to heart. When she was lowest in her life, all she wished for is to be held, and Marceline was not going to let her face it alone. "Its okay." Her voice rang over the hitched sobs of Bonnie as her hand traced up and down her back in soothing patterns.

The girl was unsure how but she ended up laying on the bed with Bonnibel fast asleep in her arms. Crying could really put somone to sleep if needed. Bonnibel had buried herself within the hold of the girl that lay wide awake with her hands swiftly stroking the pink hair sprawled on the pillow. The feelings were there now, rummaging through her mind and breaking down her strong barrier. The rules she established were far broken now. 1. No friends 2. No feelings 3. No expressing emotions. But with Bonnibel in her arms she found it hard to comply. So she lay completely still, her eyes gazing at the blank wall with warmth grazing her body.