ʜ ᴏ ʟ ʏ

37.

Sulking couldn't even begin to describe her pain, no where close to the harsh sobs that exited her mouth. Her breaths were jagged, distressed, on the brink of sending her off the edge into a pit of despair. If the shower didn't produce such a vital source of sound, she was sure Marceline would hear her. The water skewed from the shower head, harshly pelting down on her back while seated down on the marble of the tub. She was low, she couldn't bare to stand on her own two feet, every attempt leading to wobbly legs that sent her to the floor. Those thoughts, those damned thoughts, so vile and sinister that every reminder made her feel filthy. (Conditioned to think so) she felt polluted and sordid, like every hair, nail, and cell on her body was contaminated by him. So she washed, scrubbed until her skin was nearly raw and red. Even then she felt the compulsion of sadness wash over her. She had tried everything in the book, crying, distracting herself, separation, everything but confront Marceline. There was no way she could ever find out what happened, if so her life would be put at risk, Ash made sure to inform her on that. Not only did she have to live with the burden of keeping a secret, but also the shame that suited her whole. She was ashamed far beyond words. How could she let this happen to herself? How did she not know better? The questions ridiculed her a mile a minute. She wasn't sure of a answer but was sure to keep her lips shut. If Marceline were to find out, she would target Ash and end up getting hurt, and she wouldn't allow that to happen. When the water above grew cold and shallow, Bonnie removed herself from the crumpled huddle on the floor and turned the knob to the shower, shakily standing to her feet and fetching the towel drapped on the rack outside. Who knew leaving the bathroom would be so nerve racking? Without the shelter and sound of the shower, she was out in the open, out to Marceline. The shower wouldn't provide the loneliness she craved, or the consuming sounds to muffle her crys, she was within sight and hearing view. Any other person would want the comfort and presence to give them the reassurance and saftey they craved, but she was far different. Being in the space of Marceline, she was bound to figure out something was wrong. She had a hard time struggling to accept the physical affection and keeping in the endless streams of tears. Marcy would know something was up, she always does. Regardless, she had to leave, the hot steam made sure to warn her of that, the air going more gruff and humid. She brushed back her bland brown hair, letting it brush loosely over her shoulders as she shrugged on her undergarments, following a shirt and shorts. Nothing much was instore for today, probably movies and the food that Marceline went to fetch around the corner. Good thing Hudson was out at work, leaving just the two of them able to freely talk and express themselves without fear of getting caught. Staring at the door, pondering her only decision, she pushed through the barricade, greeted by Marceline laying lazily againat the bed watching the t.v as she shoveled a few fries in her mouth. Her head turned towards her upon the sound. "Hey." "Hey." She replied numbly, watching as she pushed the food away from the space of the bed before pating it. "Lay with me?" She asked, eyes filled with plead. It had been no surprise that Marceline had caught the sudden change in personality and mood. Her once lively personality was now bland and quiet, they didn't talk that much in the day to come, and a clear stiffness had consumed her. It took a second of hand fumbling and distant eyes before Bonnibel moved towards her. Marceline was her girlfriend, her lover, her best friend, the least she could do was feel obliged to return her affection. She let out a shaky breath, parting from her stance and joining Marceline on the bed. Marceline welcomed her warmly, accepting her into her embrace that Bonnibel had fallen for plenty of times. She nestled her head in the crook of her neck, her out of control breathing simmering when a arm secured her back and hand began stroking her hair softly. These weren't the filthy hands that inflicted pained and sadness, it was just Marceline. Though the wetness of her eyes begged to differ, Bonnibel felt safe in the hold of Marceline, as if no one could reach her through the arms that kept her in place. She returned the favor rather than being limp, tangling her arms around Marceline's waist and pulling deeper into her. "I love you." Whispered Marceline faintly, planting a kiss on her forehead. She didn't wait for Bonnibel to reply to continue. "I know your going through something right now but I want you to know it's ok to tell me. After all the shit we've been through, I could only hope you'd tell me." Bonnie pulled back softly, eyes coming in contact with her. Her face was captured in a twist of desperation. Bonnie leaned forward, pressing her lips to Marceline's, enjoying her girlfriend before the string of sick visions sparked in her head. She pulled back slowly, trying not to alert her of anything that was flashing through her head from contact. "Im fine, just a little tired that's all." Marceline nodded, allowing Bonnibel to fall back into her. Marcy didn't question her further, letting her emotions fall prey to the girl below her like a string woven around a finger.