ʜ ᴏ ʟ ʏ

42.

The diner was small, cramped, only a few ruby red booths surrounding the front seating area where a single trucker sat, looking disinterested with the plate below him, picking at his eggs with the occasional sip of coffe. The air from the ac box made up for the shabby condition of the diner, though the constant buzzes emerging from the rickety box clattered annoyingly. Never would she think entering a shitty dinner would be one of her biggest reliefs in the following week, but there she was, positioned on a partially torn leather seat as her back settled into the cushion, eyes prowling the food held hostage under her fork. She could speak for both of them when she said she was exhausted. The bottoms of their feet grew sore with pain from the constant pressure placed from all the walking, as well as a spiraling ache that twisted up their backs from the weight of their bags. Walking for a seemingly endless hour will do that to someone. The smelly truck driver had left them on the side of the road a hour ago, claiming that was as far as he would go, forcing them to continue their flee on foot. It was even a mircale Bonnibel was able to convince Marceline to settle down at the diner to rest themselves. It was Marceline who insisted they power through the tiring walk until they found another ride or arrived to Keila's. Bonnie guessed she took pity upon her hunger and situation and decided against powering to the town. Not that Marceline would tell her herself. It was noticeable that both silence and guilt picked away at every thought that grazed her mind, it was even more so visible in her act. With a full plate of eggs and bacon ahead of her, Marceline only stared down at the untouched plate in confinement, allowing whatever haunting thoughts to mantle her state of mind. Bonnibel knew she needed to eat, the rumbles erupting from the bowels of her stomach let her know just that. Eyes not pulling away from her lover, Bonnibel set down the utensils she attacked the stack of pancakes with, all focus falling on Marceline. She didn't return the action. "Marcy," she spoke softly, reaching her hand across the table and laying it upon hers, "you need to eat something, you need the energy." Marceline held her hunched posture, eyes not leaving her plate. "I can't, i'll hurl if I try. You take it, you're eating for two anyways." She wasn't sure why the comment stung like it did but it hurt. It was a prick of reality, poking right through whatever reaity free concept she was riding on. Reality. Marceline killed Ash, Ash involuntarily raped and impregnated her, She carried a other life form within her, they had both fled from the crimescene to hole up with Marceline's band mate. What did life hold for them after this very moment? What happens next? So many questions yet so little answers. What little bit of hope she had left slid off her shoulders like a droplet of rain slithering down her skin, replaced with the actuality of their situation, the hopelessness, all things that could go wrong. Bonnibel gave into herself. She burrowed a hand through her unkempt hair, eyes distant and shaken. "What are we going to do?" Her voice was nimble, amounting to nothing more than a whisper. For the first time in the hour, Marceline faced her, face ridiculed with discomfort at the sudden change in mood. "What are we gonna do?" She spoke only to herself, Marceline following along with her eyes on her plate yet again. "I don't know. There's not much to do at the moment but hang low and hope that we're not caught." Silence filled the void that surrounded them, neither of them having the proper words to express what was really going on in their head. It was as if they were equals, eye to eye with their depiction of the truth, even though Marceline knew ahead of time. Bonnibel settled the eating utensils on the rim of the plate, pushing back against the cushion of her seat and staring helplessly at the table. "When I promised you we'd leave the town someday, I didn't think it would be like this." Marceline looked up from her plate, emotions sealed behind that pericing gaze. She felt unsettled at the thought. Just two months ago joy was found with Bonnibel, looking back now, she pondered how easily it was lost. "Me neither, but I did what I had to do. I did it for you." Bonnibel didn't much relish in her response. What was done had been done, but it didn't make it anyless troubling. "I know you did," she paused, weary of adding a thank you, "but this could've turned out different, completely different." Marceline caught her stare, eyesbrows furrowed low, "Don't start with this shit Bonnie." There was annoyance in her voice. "What is shit about it Marceline? Im just saying this all could've gone down differently if you had just listened to me." "Listen to you what? Try to defend what he did? I don't think you're understanding what he did to you!" By now, there voices were raised to a extent, drawing in the attention of the lonesome trucker and waitress perched towards the front. "Yeah I know what he did to me Marceline! He fucking raped me at a party you dragged me to! But that's besides the point. All im saying is that if you actaully stood by my side when I needed you the most, we could've handled this a different way! Things could've been better..." Marceline felt guilt perch on her chest at the mention of abandoning her, but not letting it affect her, countered it with a remark of her own. "Oh yeah, this totally could've worked better. I can see it now, me and you frolicking down the street, hand in hand with a fucking baby on your hip. Now how nicely would that play out?"  Bonnibel had heard enough. Not taking blame on her part was one thing, but insulting her thoughts was another. She sprung upwards from the table, grabing her bag and leaving behind her food and Marceline, who looked at her dumbfounded. "Where the fuck are you going?" She called out, "Motel." Bonnibel spoke in return. "You don't have any money!" From that, she earned the finger and the obnoxious ring of the bell shackled above the door. With one final sigh and questioning look from the waitress, Marceline fetched the money from her pocket, paying off their meal and standing, "Keep the change." She stammered out, fetching her bag and exiting the dinner following after Bonnibel.

She wasn't lying when she said she was headed to a motel, her bottom planted firmly on the dirty bench outside of the main bulding, arms crossed and eyes distant, Marceline hovering above her. She had walked the whole way from the dinner, Marceline right at her tail from a distance sputtering apologises that went in one ear and out the other. It was late outside, not making any exceptions for the sizzling heat. The sun had cowered below the horizon, yes, but the heat was still surrounding the air around them, forming drizzling balls of sweat glistening their skin. Marceline swatted them annoyingly, already caught on the task of Bonnibel. Only while walking behind her to the motel the whole time shouting apologies to no remorse, Marceline had realized she was in the wrong. Bonnibel was right about what she said. If she only stayed behind with her that day, finding another way to handle Ash, the guilt on her shoulders would be way less than its current weight. Trying her best to conceal herself behind her silencing stare, Marceline cut off her numerous apologises to Bonnibel, resorting to a sigh. "Im gonna go pay for a room." She spoke to herself, Bonnibel sat firmly with arms crossed to her chest. Marceline broke free from the silencing hold and moved towards the main office. It was as bland as it could get, chipped paint lining the exterior walls, as well as furniture that didn't look to promising to sit on. She ignored it, moving to the desk and laying sight upon the man behind it. Eyes grey and distant, lips straight and thin, hair unkempt and grey, he faced her. He held a stong resemblance to Simon. Simon... Her gut went mush just thinking about him, how disappointed he would be if he figured out her truths and faults. She brushed it off her shoulders. "I would like a one bedroom room please, one night's stay." The man slowly flipped through the pages of his book, eyes caught in the pages. "45 dollars." He set down the magazine, one hand withdrawn to collect payment, the other grasping a key. She handed him the money from her pocket. "Room 64 down towards the left." With that, his intrest was submerged back within the flashy magazine. She muttered a thanks, feet meeting the concrete once stepping out the lobby, eyes meeting Bonnibel on the bench. "Hey," she called out, flinging the key her direction, "room 64." Bonnibel held the urge to question her presence but once remembering what was said at the diner, departed from her girlfriend alone. Marcy had to many things to think about, to many questions unanswered to accompany Bonnibel at the moment. Instead, she slumped over towards the edge of the parking lot to the feild of overgrown grass. There she sat, eyes pushed upwards towards the translucent clouds, hands stabilized on the grass. "Hey.. It's me again," her voice was faint, wavering from the pressure in her throat, "I know I don't call on you that much except for when I need something.. I know im selfish. I just need some help right now. I don't know how much more I can take I j-just," she felt herself fall apart as tears slipped from her eyes, rolling down her rosy cheeks as she hiccuped on regret, "I just really need to know if your real... Please give me a sign, something, anything.. Just please let me know you're here..." She sat unyielding in the dancing stalks of green, hands uprooting the grass around her, breath ragged, senses eager. She lost count of her wait after 5 minutes. By then, her tears had settled into stains and her hope had vanished like the snap of a finger. She laughed to herself, sniffling up her humiliation and streaking her hand across her cheeks. "That one's on me. Dumb of me to believe you're up there. Maybe if you were you could've helped out when I needed it the most. Thanks for nothing." Having no second thoughts about her actions she stuffed her hand into her pocket, yanking up the clear plastic baggie gifted to her by Flambo on her birthday. Only two pills situated inside the material, the rest consumed at her birthday party. She slipped the pills from the bag, pointing her middle finger to the sky before drawing back her head and plopping them in her mouth, the lumpy cillanders washed down her tounge with saliva. As of now she felt terrible, her emotions amounting to nothing more than fucked, but relief would soon be found in the span of minutes. She laid back on the prickly grass watching the sunset, sweaty, tired, alone, and allowed the dawning night sky to envelop her.