Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mary was drunk when she got home, the alcohol in her system was slightly submerged by the length of the walk she took alone at 3 a.m, yet, she could still feel it in the way she walked, tripping over her own feet, nearly falling into a blurry ground. Her parents, by this time, should be asleep. However, the second she stepped inside the house and the lights came on, she knew she was in deep shit.

Her heartbeat ceased, and every limb in her body was numb. She didn’t hear anything, see anything — the only thing going through her mind being the desperate urge to rewind time.

Slowly, she looked up and there he was. Her father stood by the kitchen island, hand on the light switch. He didn’t look happy, far from it. His looks were so sharp Mary could feel herself being sliced into tiny pieces.

Just this morning, she’d promised in God’s name she’d be a better daughter. That she’d stop complaining about Church and reject the Devil’s influence in her life; that she’d stop talking with boys who held malice in their eyes and girls who wanted to drag her to the wrong path.

Just this evening, she’d gone to bed, and waited a full hour before sneaking out of the window, making her way to Lily’s house. She’d done everything she pledged not to; drank, danced, kissed, fucked. Did everything a 20 year-old had the right to do.

That evening, she felt God’s disappointment in her, and, at the same time, the heaviest happiness she’d ever welcomed in her heart. A freedom she rarely had in life.

But now… now she regretted it all. As she looked at her father, she knew she was fucked.

“Where were you?” he asked, slow like a predator making its way to its prey.

She stuttered, mouth opening a couple times and closing just as much. “I went for a walk,” she lied, because that’s what she was taught to do from a very early age. 

At Church, when the priest asked if she’d been a good girl. At school, when teachers asked if everything was okay with her parents, and at home, when her parents asked about her faith.

All she did was lie. Lie to make her life easier, to hold people’s affection for her. Mary knew then, that if she was ever herself, she’d be alone in this life.

“A walk?” He walked around the island, walking step by step until he was in front of Mary, where he sniffed the air and looked at her with disgust, anger and pure disdain. “You reek at alcohol, Mary!”

“Daddy–” there was no time to finish whatever she was going to say before her dad pulled her by the hair. She screamed after him as she was dragged to the middle of the living room, where she was thrown onto the couch.

“I didn't raise you like this! I didn't have a daughter so she could become a spawn of the devil, a slut who goes out at night with whoever. Drinking... What a disgrace. Did you have sex too? Huh? Did you, you little whore?”

Her heart beat in her ears, ringing so loud she could barely make sense of what her father said. She froze on the couch, knot on her throat.

“No,” she sobbed, tears threatening to escape.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” and then, he was taking off his belt. Mary crumbled, knees against her chest as she tried to escape from him, and melt into the couch. “Who was it?!”

“No one, daddy.”

“Who was it?” He spun the belt, hitting her with the buckle on her bare leg. 

A scream. It was strident and painful, cracking in the middle. “No one!” 

Tears fell, because she knew there’s no right answer. She’d be in this exact situation regardless of honesty. There was no way of escaping what her dad wanted to do. He always took what he wanted, no matter if it was reasonable or not.

One more hit. And another. And another; until she was sobbing loud enough to wake the next door neighbors. 

It didn’t matter how often it happened, each time was as painful as the first. She drowned in ache and anger, desperation to get away and not being able to.

With one decisive motion, she raised her feet to his chest, pushing him away. Her legs burned as she stood up, disheveled hair and wet face.

Looking at her father now, she saw the burning flames inside his eyes. It was a deep shade of orange, growing by the passing seconds.

“Fuck you!” she screamed before she could think of it. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

He tilted his head, eyebrows creasing. “What did you say?”

Mary never talked back. Every time she took it, cried and screamed and then apologized, promised not to ever do it again. The next morning she’d be at the Church, confessing and vowing to God she’d never do it again just to go and repeat it all under His eye.

“Yeah, daddy. I fucked! I fucked, and I drank and I fucking smoked. Yeah! What’re you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me, huh? Go against the word of God and take the life of your own daughter? Are you gonna turn into a devil’s spawn just like me?”

He’s quiet as he looks at her, the flames quivering as he loses his speech, his anger. His body is frozen and he simply stares, nose contorted in disgust, like he couldn’t recognize his own daughter.

And, truly, he didn’t. He never did — he knew the version he had forced to exist. Never did he know the real Mary, the one he’s seeing now; furious and shattered, still riding through the after-math of everything she’d consumed.

“I’m tired of you,” she runs her hands across her face, pushing her curls back. “I am tired of you, and ma. I hate you. I hate you!” Mary laughs, loud and proud, because, fuck, it’s good to say it.

“You’re not my daughter,” he affirms with every strength in his body. “You let the Devil in, you’re not the woman I call daughter.”

She laughed harder. Laughed until the only thing she could think of was pushing her father out of the window and spending the rest of her life in prison. Her body ached so deeply she could barely stand without shaky legs, red and beginning to swell.

“I am the Devil,” Mary grinned like a maniac, tears still making home off of her face. “I am the Devil you raised.”

That's when Marcus Macdonald broke. His lips trembled and he dropped his belt, staring at Mary as if he felt nothing for her. Not even anger. Mary knew that was the warning of a line being crossed, of a path she couldn’t come back from being traced in front of her.

And she decided then, she might as well say it all.

“I lied. I lied about everything and anything. My entire life is a lie as you know it; me and Remus fucked. We were never in a relationship with God. We fucked all the time when we dated. I drink, and I smoke, and I fucking hate Church just as much as I hate you and ma.”

As she blinked, her dad turned around, face hidden between his hands. He breathed heavily.

“Fuck you, and fuck God,” it’s the last thing she said, lifting a thirty-truck-weight off her chest. She didn’t wait for her father's — who’s still disoriented — answer, walking to the stairs. She stumbled, and laughed as hard as she shook. It was on the second floor that she came across her mother, eavesdropping with her hands clutching at her crucifix. She cried, and Mary could only look at her up and down before locking herself in her bedroom.

She realized then, she couldn’t leave. That everything she said did happen, and no amount of possible regret could change how things would never go back to how they were.

Everything spun around her, fast pacing through her veins and up to her eyes, blurring everything when she fell onto the bed. For a second, she felt like throwing up.

She had done it. She’d said everything to her father’s face. All the things she had bottled through her entire life; all the bearing and the bruises she was forced to hide, all the pain and all the anger and the tears.

All of it had been put out, once and for all. And, it felt good. So good. Like she could finally breathe again — but she knew one thing: her house was not a place for her anymore. She’d done more than break a rule, she’d humiliated her father. She was officially the child of the Devil, and no devil has space in preacher Marcus’ home.

Either she was kicked with only the clothes on her body, or she left on her own two feet.

†

Mary left her house alongside the rise of the Sun.

It took her about three hours to do it all.

She cried, and laid down an entire half drunk plan, where she’d pack her things and leave through the window. If she was lucky enough, she could get a ride to the other side of the country that same day.

It was simple on paper, and, somehow, she felt as if she could do anything. Freedom rushed through her bones when she slid out of the bedroom she’d officially said goodbye to. Money box in her bag, thrown in the middle of food and clothes — everything she needed for a full week of looking for the start of her life.

She’s never considered herself impulsive, but now, as she gave up on everything she once knew, she started to feel that perhaps impulsivity suited her better than following any sort of rules.

Mary followed the paths she knew best, watching the morning go by in front of her eyes. People walked back and forth, taking their own lives, completely oblivious to her.

It was at that moment doubts creeped in. She missed Remus, and Lily. Missed Dumbledore’s toasts and Poppy’s coffee. She missed everything except for those who raised her — she didn’t miss God, because he was never here.

She never knew how lonely running away felt like. Never even thought about the inevitable part where she fears everyone she locks eyes with. The creeping shake of the approaching night.

By the afternoon, she sat by the side of the road, surrounded by nothing except dry land. It was hot, and her water was running out.

Mary waited, and waited until a car was pulling by. With her hand casting the Sun away, she jumps to her feet.

“Are you okay down there?” a man, probably around her father’s age. He gripped the wheel of his truck, balding head and gray shirt. Mary could spot sweat in his armpits, and for a split second, thought of staying on the floor.

Yet, with no idea of the time or how lucky she might get again, she hopped right in when he accepted the offer.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, hand gripping her bag. “To the other side of the country. Where are you going?”

“Alabama,” he said. Mary wouldn’t be safe in Alabama. Her father would find her if he really tried to, and the last thing she could ever ask for is the humiliation of failing in this. “How old are you? You seem quite young.”

“I’m 25,” Mary said, because he didn’t need to know her actual age. Lord forbid he even knew her first name.

The man looked at her up and down, and she felt undressed. Her skin tickled, and her stomach churned over and over. Something in her brain screamed run, and yet, she didn’t lift a finger.

“25?! You’re kidding.”

“I swear.”

“On God?”

Like it was the easiest thing in the world, she said, “On God.”

One single nod from him. “I’m Austin.”

“I’m Hannah,” she painted on the sweetest smile she could find.

“Hannah… pretty name to match the pretty face.”

She gulped audibly, heart racing as she put on her best laugh. One look outside, and she wondered if she could run away now, too. If perhaps she’d survived if she jumped right out, in the middle of nowhere road.

“How old are you?” she inquired, head falling to the left as she gazed at him.

He looked disgusting, she concluded. Old and sweaty; the face of a pervert and a body to match it.

It’s now that regret settled in, but there was nothing to be done now. She couldn’t and wouldn’t turn back. She’d go anywhere but home again.

At the question, he laughed. All teeth and alcohol breath. “I’m 43.”

Her head twitched, eyebrows quivering. For a 43 year-old man, he looked weirdly close to his 60s.

“Don’t you have a family?”

“Eh, it’s complicated.”

By complicated, he probably meant he had left his family behind. If there was something she’d learned by being surrounded by men most of her life, it was that ‘complicated’ was their way to describe a situation they’d fled from.

And, normally, Mary would call it out, unless they were from Church.

Now, however, she was in his power. A wrong word, and everything would be at risk — mainly her life.

So, she smiled. “Hard wife?”

That seemed to do it, as he chuckled like the bar man he was. “Ex-wife,” he corrected, and Mary despised how he had looked at her.

Maybe she could make it to Alabama and hop into the next person’s car. She could do it. She could lie and fake until then. After all, there was nothing she knew how to do better.

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a daughter your age.”

“Oh,” she said. “Nice. How’s her name?”

“Jane. She’s beautiful, very smart. She’s a doctor, I believe.”

“So young?”

“The times are different, Hannah. There’s a lot of young doctors now.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I guess I just don’t go to the doctor often enough.”

“A pretty lady like you doesn’t need to,” he places a hand on her leg, earning a slight jump from her.

The small things she’d eaten come back to her mouth in a blink of an eye. Afraid he might notice, she smiled, pretending to be flattered.

Her brain screamed again, and this time, she tried to listen.

Run, it said.

Mary looked out of the window. She never left Florida in her life — had no idea where she was exactly. Still in the thoroughfare, in the middle of nowhere. Something in her told her they weren’t nearly as close to Alabama as they should be, with Austin’s slow driving.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

The question took her back, and she swallowed down once more, unsure of what to say.

“No,” she decided to be honest, too nervous to think of an excuse as to why she left her boyfriend behind to go travel the country all by herself as a 25 year-old woman.

She realized now she should’ve made up an entire backstory before slipping through her bedroom window in the morning.

“Impossible,” he scoffed. “A gorgeous little thing like you? How are you single?”

“Just… focusing on myself.”

“You’re right,” he then said. “That’s a good thing, but incredibly lonely, no?”

“Not really,” squirming, she attempted to get away from the hand that was still held onto her knee, but was painfully unsuccessful.

He squeezed, as though he could sense her discomfort and yet, paid no mind.

“Everyone feels lonely when they don’t have a lover.”

“It depends… I believe. On the person,” her heartbeat reverberated through the car, so loud she was sure Austin could hear it too.

He scoffed, making an abrupt turn.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

“I need to eat,” she announced before he could answer. “I need to eat.”

“I have food on the backseat.”

Fuck.

“I need to go to the bathroom, too. Can we stop somewhere?”

He took a look at her, but nodded at the end. “Sure.”

The ride is silent until they pull up at a gas station. Carefully, she grabbed her bag as she exited the car. Austin asked why she needed it, and in return, she said she was afraid of forgetting where she’d put it. It was the worst lie she’s ever told in her life, but as Austin let her go, she shuffled her way inside the store.

It was empty, with a single girl probably around her age behind the counter.

Mary looked around until her eyes were spotting a backdoor, and quickly made her way through it.

RUN.

She finally did, bag over her shoulder and feet hitting her butt. She ran as though Austin was chasing her and only truly stopped when her lungs couldn’t take it anymore.

Her body shivered, and she could only hear her own heart. It pumped all across her veins, and under her skin. Black spots ate on the edges of her vision, and she threw herself on the ground as she found another thoroughfare. Face between her hands, she allowed herself to cry.

She cursed her ma, and her daddy. Cursed God, and cursed herself and how unlucky she was for being born in the life she had. She blamed everyone, and everything.

Freedom was the only thing she’d ever truly wanted. Wanted to be free to be who she was, and to live as she pleased — perhaps she’d been born wrong, born to prove that misery can happen to anyone.

She just wished she could face the sad life of others instead of her own.

It was easier to feel bad for the next person rather than mourn the life you were born in. The family that raised you with a bigger love for God than their own daughter. Love for the rules written by men ages ago. Love for a fantasy to make up for terrible self-trust and self-love.

She cried until there were no tears in her body, and as the cars began to sound, wiped it off. She jumped to her feet, and waved her hand.

Ignored once, twice. Her heart raced at the thought of Austin looking for her, but kept waving, screaming, begging.

It took a few minutes before the first car slowed down, and Mary took a peek at the person behind the wheel.

Thankfully, it was someone her age. Dirty blonde hair trimmed in a short mullet, baggy shirt that somehow was tight on the arms and cargo pants. She wasn’t sure if it was a boy or a girl, but it didn’t matter.

She gazed down the blue eyes staring at her in confusion, and smiled when the windows were rolled down.

“Hi,” the voice told Mary it was a woman, and that earned a sigh from her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes. Please, can you give me a ride?” she asked. “I really need a ride.”

“Uh, where are you going?”

“Anywhere,” she said. “Take me anywhere but here.”

The door immediately unlocked. “Thank you. God, thank you,” she pleads as she slides into the passenger seat. “You’re an angel, thank you.”

“Marlene,” the woman said. “Your name?”

She took a deep breath. Marlene was young, and had something mysterious yet free about her. She looked like someone her family would’ve hated. Someone the Church would condemn.

“Mary,” she then said.

Chapter Text

“Mary,” Marlene tasted the name on her lips. “What brings you to a road trip, Mary?”

She shrugged, not keen on spilling her guts to a stranger, no matter how trustworthy they looked. “I don’t know,” she said. “I like freedom,” Marlene smirked at the answer. “You?”

“Same thing,” she said. “I wanted to try something new. Sometimes life can get quite boring and monotonous.”

Mary’s breathing slowed down as she looked around at the jeep Marlene owned. It was large, and quite comfortable. Just from looking at it, Mary could see pieces of who Marlene was. There were old worn band stickers all round the wheel and the radio, and the backseat was covered by a red and green towel. Almost like a tiny home inside a car. Mary didn’t feel scared, quite the opposite; she had no issues throwing her bag onto the backseat, knowing she wouldn’t need to run away again. At least, she didn’t believe so.

The Sun was disappearing from view inch by inch, and Mary allowed herself to relax with the thought of safety.

“Are you from Florida too?”

“Louisiana,” she said.

Mary frowned. “Why did you come all the way through Florida. Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Seattle but, you know, decided that maybe a different path would be more fun. I have always been curious about Florida, too.”

“And what did you think?”

“Exceeds expectations,” Marlene shrugged.

A nod, slow and decisive. “I never left Florida.”

Marlene turned to her. “Really? So this is, like, your first time?”

“Yup,” she popped the ‘p’.

“And you’re all alone.”

“All by myself,” she rolled the window down, pushing her arm out to feel it running against the breeze.

Marlene looked at her for a second before returning to the road. “You’re really strange, Mary.”

Mary’s eyebrows joined together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you show up in the middle of nowhere, a bag in hands, desperate eyes, no friends, no family, wanting to cross the country for the first time without any sort of resources.”

She knew how it looked like. How her lack of preparation was incredibly obvious. However, Mary believed she didn’t really owe any explanations to someone she just met. Especially someone she wasn’t sure she could trust just yet.

“I am very impulsive.”

It wasn’t quite a lie, as she truly had just found out the magics of impulsivity. Maybe she was impulsive, and her dad was simply holding her back from living, which he, indeed, was.

“I can tell,” she shook her head, and Mary wiggled her fingers, attempting to grab the air outside.

“Why Seattle?” she eventually asked.

Marlene shrugged. “Honestly? It’s just beautiful, that’s all. I had a friend who lived there for 4 years and he says it was the prettiest city he’s ever been in.”

“Hm,” Mary hummed, hand flickering the cardboard tree swinging by the rear-view mirror. Seattle was a good spot — extremely far away from everything and everyone. “Take me to Seattle,” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Take me to Seattle with you.”

“I barely know you,” Marlene explained.

“Then ask me questions,” Mary replied without missing a beat.

Marlene gaped, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, c’mon. If we’re going together, we’ve got to know each other, no?”

Marlene turned to her, then back to the road, and back to Mary again. “Fine, uh, what’s your last name?”

“MacDonald. Yours?”

“McKinnon.”

“We’re both double M’s,” she joked, watching the way Marlene smiled at her words.

“We are.”

“Are you an only child?” she whirled her body fully toward Marlene.

“No,” she said. “I have a twin and three other siblings.”

That made sense, somehow. Mary couldn’t pinpoint what, but something about Marlene gave off ‘I grew up in a full house’ vibes. Completely different than Mary, who wished to but never had a sibling she could love.

She beared all the suffering alone, and to be honest, she’s glad it was only her inside that house.

“What are their names?”

“Mason, Anthony, Julian and Rhea.”

“Are you the oldest?”

“Anthony is.”

“You look like an older sibling,” she said, head tilted to the side as she observed Marlene’s side profile.

From this angle, she could catch the freckles spread across her nose bridge and the edges of her cheeks. Nose which had a bump in the middle, and looked like it was drawn by some fancy artist.

Her lips weren’t thin, nor full. Right in between and just the perfect amount.

However, her hair needed a trim. Fringe falling into her eyes — it looked good, if Mary was being totally honest.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Take it how you want it.”

Marlene grinned, all teeth and amusement. “How about you?”

“How about me?”

“Do you have siblings?” she asked.

“No, just me.”

“That must be really depressing.”

Her shoulders sagged. “You get used to it with time,” Marlene nodded. In return, Mary got herself comfortable in the seat, kicking off her flip flops to press her knees against her chest. Her eyes fell on the radio, and then she was speaking again. “You drive in silence?”

“Hm? Oh, sometimes. Do you want music?”

Mary doesn’t ask for permission before turning the radio nearly all the way up, letting Madonna fill up the gapes of silence between them.

Her head rested against the seat, and without realizing it, Mary fell silent, feeling the wind cooling her face. A smile slowly grew on her lips, because all of this was real. She had escaped from home, from her dad and mom. She had finally made something of herself, and even though it was complete madness, she couldn't wait to find out what life had in store for her.

She was even ready to run away from Marlene if she turned out to be a crazy ass like Austin. She would do anything to feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins, because that meant she was living and not just surviving her father's rules.

Had always dreamed of a free life, where she could smile without guilt, do what she wants without a voice in the back of her head reminding her how much of a terrible human being she was for it. Mary dreamed of being happy without any consequences. She dreamed of everything she was never allowed to have — but now it was different. Now, Marcus MacDonald couldn’t do anything. No prayer would be enough to bring her back, and that was what gave her the most pleasure.

To know that the thing he had most faith in was now completely useless. All the power taken away by who he hated the most.

“Whatcha’ laughing at?”

Mary’s eyes fly open, and she gazes at Marlene, who studied her, blue eyes shimmering. “Freedom tastes good.”

Marlene chuckled, shaking her head. “It indeed does.”

As the roads pass and change, Mary’s eyes fall on the green sign; ALABAMA STATE LINE. They cross past houses and trees. Everything looked so alive; so different from the small town Mary was used to living at.

“Is it your first time traveling?”

Marlene shook her head. “I lived in California for a while. Then moved to Louisiana, where I stayed until now.”

“How old were you when you moved to Louisiana?”

“Fifteen,” she made a turn, pushing deeper into Alabama.

“How old are you?” Mary reached for her bag in the backseat, taking out what was rest of her water, finishing it off.

“I’m 24.”

At that, Mary’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline. Marlene didn’t look a day over twenty. In fact, she could perfectly be younger than Mary herself.

Her skin was soft, and well-taken care of, like she hadn’t seen the Sun a second in her life. Everything about her screamed juvenile, a mix of tough and delicate. Just the perfect amount of everything.

“I’m 20,” she disclaimed, welcoming the weird knot on her throat for saying the truth.

It was like Marlene knew too much, although she actually knew nothing at all. She had no idea where Mary came from, the family she was raised under, and the relationship she held with God.

Mary knew nothing about Marlene, either, and somehow, it was like the woman behind the wheel had been around long enough to be considered someone of trust.

“You’re not even legal,” she pointed out. “Are you sure you’re not like, a serial killer?”

Mary laughed. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Marlene turned to her. “That’s okay, I have a gun on the trunk anyway.”

Mary froze at her words, looking over her shoulder and back to Marlene. “You do?”

“Obviously,” her shoulder sagged. “How do you think I protect myself?”

“My dad had a gun, too,” she said, leaving out the part here she wished she’d sneaked it out of his office.

“Where is it now?”

She shrugged. Marlene knew enough. Being aware of the reason as to why she left home wasn’t on the list of things anyone should have stored in their memory folders.

“My mama kept it after his death,” is the first thing that came to mind.

Marlene’s eyes shuddered between the road and Mary, as though she was unsure of the right words to say to someone who’s mourning.

“I’m sorry,” it’s what she settled for.

Mary dismissed it with a wave of hand. “I am okay, he sucked anyway.”

“Oh. Well – it’s still a sad thing. I’m glad you’re alright, though.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that why you were hitchhiking at 7 in the afternoon?”

Right. The Sun was setting. Mary hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, and, if she’s being totally honest, couldn’t even begin to feel slightly sleepy.

Her heart rate was up to the skies, still coming down from the roller-coaster she’d ride.

“He’s been dead for years,” she said. “I told you, I just want an adventure.”

Marlene nodded. She didn’t look to convinced about Mary. Like she was still analyzing whether she was worth keeping or not. Mary was apprised that perhaps she didn’t exhale much trust; after all, she was merely a random girl who stopped her in the middle of the road, begging for a ride.

Yet, Mary knew she wasn’t in danger next to Marlene, which meant she had to do everything to keep her — at least, for the longest time she could manage.

Before she could say anything else, Marlene stopped the car, right in front of a gas station. “I’ll be right back.”

Mary stayed in the car, where she rested her head out of the window, breathing in the early-night breeze. The good thing about summer, and Mary’s personal favorite, was how long the days were. How the Sun persisted his spot on the sky until it couldn’t anymore. She had no idea how time it was, but there was still light. Still day.

Perhaps that was a reason as to why she was still wide awake.

When Marlene returned from filling up the car with gas, Mary stretched her feet out on the dashboard, closing her eyes as they pulled away again.

“Where are we going now?” she asked, voice low and relaxed, like this wasn’t the craziest thing she’d ever done.

“Motel,” Marlene said. “Relax, I won’t let you sleep in the car.”

Mary chuckled. She could imagine Marlene’s smirk as she spoke. “I wouldn’t mind. Your car is comfortable.”

“I’m flattered.”

Slowly, Mary returned to the world around her, eyes opening to watch as Marlene drove. Her concentrated eyes, and music still playing in the background.

Now, her eyes felt quite heavy. Her tiredness falling right back onto her, shaking her calm. She takes a slow breath in, and allows herself to fall asleep in the passenger seat.

†

Mary was shaken awake when they got by the motel, finally getting a glimpse of what standing felt like after hours inside Marlene’s jeep. Her brain had sized up ten times, taking up all the space and pressing against her skull. It ached, but she pushed through it.

“Are you hungry?” Marlene asked as they climb the stairs up to their room.

“Actually, yeah.” she held her bag with both hands in front of her legs. “Do you have food?”

“I packed some sandwiches with me. I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancy.”

As they push inside the room, Mary allowed herself to laugh. “Thank you,” it’s random, earning a confused look over the shoulder from Marlene. “For accepting taking me to Seattle with you,” Mary decided to elaborate, and then, Marlene’s shoulders are sagging, and she smiled. Her bag is thrown onto one of the beds, and Mary shuffled to the other.

“You seemed desperate. I couldn’t say no.”

As she sat on the bed, Mary wondered if talking about Austin would be too bad — she didn’t need to speak about the reasons as to why she’d gotten into a weird man’s car, because, well, Marlene already saw the desperation behind her eyes. That part was unnecessary.

“I was being followed,” she said, albeit she didn’t know at what extent that was the truth.

She wasn’t being followed, but she might have been.

Marlene froze, and slowly turned to her from where she unpacked two sandwiches. “What?”

“I had gotten a ride with this man, and, well, he was creepy. I ran away at the first gas station I found.”

“Shit,” Marlene breathed heavily, handing her the sandwiches. There was a crease between her eyebrows. “You really need to start putting your safety first.”

“I needed a ride, and he was the first person I came across.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to get into anyone’s car.”

“Well,” Mary shrugged, taking a bite from the sandwich. “If I hadn’t taken a ride with him, I wouldn’t have found you.”

Marlene slumped onto the bed, sitting across from Mary. Her elbows rest on her knees, and when she looks up, she’s grinning.

Mary came to notice Marlene grins a lot, like everything is a play and amusing for her. She wondered if it was a rule or an exception.

“Are you actually serious about coming to Seattle with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It seems, I don’t know, quite crazy. I can’t think of anyone who would hop into a stranger’s car and go with them to the other corner of the country.”

Mary shrugged, chewing on the — amazing, and delicious — sandwich. “I wanted to do it already. I just thought ‘why not’ when you said you were going to Seattle.”

“You’re crazy.”

Mary smirked. “Maybe a little, but that’s okay.”

“You should tell me more about you.”

Mary leans backwards, holding her body weight with one elbow. “What do you wanna know?”

Marlene tilted her head, putting thought into it. Mary liked the way her lip pursed to the side when she was doing so.

“What’s your full name?”

“You know my full name.”

“Do you have a middle name?”

“Anastasia.”

“Mary Anastasia MacDonald,” she tasted the name, rolling it off her tongue.”

“Do you have a middle name?”

“Helen.”

Mary hummed. “It fits you.”

“Better than Marlene?”

“No,” she shook her head, holding Marlene’s gaze as they ate silently. Then, she bounced, sitting up. “We should play 25 questions.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s a good idea seen we’ll be stuck together for a week.”

Mary frowned. “A week? That’s all it takes to cross the States?”

“That or more, depending on our stops,” Marlene clarified. “I had in mind to be fast, but since we’re together, we might as well have fun while we’re riding.”

“Like what?”

Marlene took one last bite, crumbling the paper and throwing it to the bedside table. “Like spend the day around, do fun things, I don’t know.”

In Mary’s head, there was one goal and one goal only: Get as far away from home as she could manage. In Marlene’s head, that goal didn’t exist, and Mary didn’t blame her. Actually, she couldn’t help but find quite captivating the idea of making the best out of the craziest and only trip of her life.

She’d never left her town for a second in her life, so why spend her chance locked inside a car?

“I have my first question.”

“Shoot it.”

“Why do you look like that?”

Marlene tittered, turning back to Mary. This time, she leaned back on her elbows, mimicking Mary’s previous pose. “Like a dyke?”

Mary squinted. “You said it.”

“You thought it first.”

“Are you offended?”

“Not really. I am a dyke,” she said. “That’s the reason why I look like one. A dyke being a dyke.”

Mary nodded. “You look cool.”

“Lesbians are cool.”

Mary’s heart twisted. She knew Marlene was right; more so, she had no issues with who she fucked whatsoever — but there it was, the voice in the back of her head, trying to force disgust upon her. Wondering how someone like Marlene could talk so openly about something that’d get her hung from where Mary came from.

She gazed at Marlene up and down. Boy clothes, boy face and boy hair. Everything about her did scream lesbian in every sort of way — not that Mary had seen many of them in her life, but at least, the ones she had all looked like that.

Marlene just looked a bit cooler than all of them. Puzzling and flirtatious, in a way. Mary wasn’t upset about that at all.

Perhaps it was the idea that her parents would’ve hated Marlene’s company that makes her so interesting in the first place.

“What’s your biggest dream?” Marlene asked, and for the first time, Mary didn’t have an answer.

She didn’t, at all, know what her dream was.

Growing up in nearly confinement takes its toll when it comes to dreaming about the future. All Mary wanted was to be free, and now she was. What will she do with it? Only God knows. She had no goals, no anything.

“To be free.”

“And aren’t you?”

Mary shrugged. “Maybe. What about you?”

“I want to travel the world.”

“You aren’t settling in Seattle?” Mary cocked her head.

“Nah,” Marlene replied. “Seattle is just a stop.”

“Where do you wanna go next?”

Marlene inhaled slowly, putting all her strength into thinking of an answer. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Somewhere near, like Canada.”

“You wanna travel the world by car?” Mary laughed at the absurd of it. Marlene chuckled along, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

“I’ll go as far as I can.”

“Nice.”

“Do you want to travel the world?”

The idea of it was unrealistic. She could barely see herself leaving Florida, which had just happened. Everything was spinning around it so fast she couldn’t get a hold of it. Thinking of leaving the country was a step her brain couldn’t take. A fantasy that wasn’t grounded enough.

Where would she even go?

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “Maybe.”

Marlene nodded. “You seem quite sad at the thought.”

“You’re observant.”

“You’re nice to observe.”

Mary bites the inside of her cheek to stop a grin from forming. Yet, Marlene smirked, pride vibrating all around her. Mary rolled her eyes, trying to look past how Marlene was extremely talented in making her speechless with only a few hours of knowing each other.

“It’s not sadness, per say. More like… not seeing it in a nearby future.”

“It doesn’t have to be near. I want things that could only happen when I’m much older.”

“I know,” she crossed her legs. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” Marlene said. “I understand the feeling, but it won’t always be that way.”

“Thanks,” she pressed her lips together, painting a soft smile.

“I have a question,” she said, and Mary nodded for her to proceed. “How was your childhood?”

Mary inhales slowly and sharply. That was the type of question that she liked to avoid. Never did she tell anyone the truth of what happened — Marlene couldn’t be different, even if with the urge of spilling her guts, especially now, sleep deprived and tired.

“My dad is–was a preacher. I grew up in a normal family in a small town in Florida, as you know. My childhood was pretty normal.”

Except, of course, it wasn’t, because being beaten up and forced to pray until your knees ache wasn’t normal at all. Being scared of your dad wasn’t normal, nor was it healthy.

“That makes sense.”

“What does?”

“The cross on your neck,” she pointed out, and Mary had to look down to acknowledge she was still wearing it. It’d been a gift from her mom on her 10^th birthday, and ever since then, she rarely had taken it off. She sinned with God’s presence on her neck, as well as above her. It started, somehow, being a symbol of her rebellion.

“Ah, yeah. Religious family.”

“Are you religious?” Marlene asked, and once again, there was hardly an answer.

“Yes, and no,” she confessed. “I grew up catholic, so there will always be religion in me. Do I believe it with all my being? Not quite.”

“Why so?”

“God takes away my freedom. Good things aren’t supposed to make me feel sick, and God makes me feel sick all the time.”

Marlene nodded thoughtfully. “But you believe in God.”

It wasn’t a question, but Mary still answered. “I do.”

“Do you feel him?”

“I think he gave up on me,” she admitted for the first time ever, front to front with a stranger. Nothing ever felt so good.

“Why?”

“Because I am not the daughter he excepted me to be.”

“So you think you’re deserving of being ignoring my him?”

Mary shrugged. “I think he’s shit.”

That earns a titter from Marlene, who shook her head before kicking her shoes off. “I think God’s shit, too.”

“I take you’re not religious? Gay people usually aren’t.”

Marlene contorts her lips, as if the affirmation hadn’t landed quite well. “Sort of,” she confessed. “I grew up religious, too, and sometimes, I feel God. I feel his love, but I don’t pay much mind. I don’t preach what the bible says, that’s not who Jesus stood for.”

“That makes sense,” Mary pointed out, mimicking Marlene as she stripped out of her shoes. “I need a shower, I believe.”

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll shower in the morning.”

“Alright,” with a quiet smile, Mary stood up.

The room was fairly old. The beds were close together, being divided by a single table who stood beneath a lamp that hardly illuminated the room.

The floor was dirty, and the TV probably didn’t work, not even having a remote anywhere near. It was all tiny and brown, comfortable, but somewhat, creepy.

Mary shuffled to the bathroom with clothes under her armpit. Just like the rest of the room, it was falling into pieces. The shower looked older than her, and the sink was slightly bent.

She paid no mind as she showered with heavy eyes.

†

“Wake up, princess,” a muffled voice rang in Mary’s brain and a hand shook her awake.

She grumbled softly, turning away from the light casting through the window. Grabbing the sheets, she pulled it over her head, causing said hand to push it down.

“Let it go.”

“C’mon, we’ve got to hit the road.”

Ah, Right. She was in Alabama. With a stranger. After running away from home. It was all real. Carefully, she blinked herself awake, staring right into Marlene’s eyes.

Her hair was wet, falling over her forehead, and she had a plain white tee with ripped jeans that hung too low on her hips. Mary blinked once more, and sat up, scratching her eyes. Faintly, she could hear Marlene laugh.

“What time is it?”

“Eight,” she said. “I was thinking, by the way,” she turned around, coming back with a paper in hands and throwing it on the bed in front of Mary, “that maybe we could visit this place.”

When Mary’s brain starts functioning well enough to comprehend Marlene’s messy handwriting, she focus on the word below Alabama.

History Museum of Mobile.

“It’s just an hour away. We could go there, spend the day and make our way to Tennessee after.”

Mary’s eyes jerk between the paper and Marlene. Mind still too foggy to understand a word she was saying. “Tennessee?”

“Yeah,” Marlene’s eyebrows joined together. “How do you think we’ll get to Seattle?”

“I thought we were going through Mississippi,” she said. “It’s quicker, no?”

“I don’t want quicker.”

Mary didn’t fight it. Mostly because it was Marlene’s trip at the end of the day — she was simply infiltrating herself into it.

A yawn, and she is scratching her eyes again. Mary didn’t need to look in the mirror to know she had eye-bags in that very moment.

“Yeah, sure,” her shoulders sagged. “The museum sounds nice, but, can we stop somewhere for breakfast? I have money on me.”

“Yeah! Don’t worry, I already planned on going to the closest diner. Look,” a map fell across Mary’s eyes.

“Where are you taking all of this from?”

“My bag?”

“You’re agitated today,” she pointed out, taken aback by the change of mood from her.

Marlene chuckled. “I’m a morning person.”

“I’m not,” she dragged herself out of the bed.

“I can tell,” Marlene said, gathering the map and the paper with all the notes she’d made herself on every place she could visit in the states they’d be crossing.

Or, well, they could visit.

She shuffled to her bag, grabbing the first dress she saw — it was white, middle thigh length. It had been a gift from Lily. Therefore, it was her favorite one; she liked the ruffles, and how it framed her body.

She realized then, she should’ve brought her mom’s old boots with her instead of a single pair of shoes that she’d been wearing since 1989.

When Marlene enters the bathroom, she takes the chance to change, pushing her PJ’s into the bag and pulling the strips to close it tight.

Hair up and clothes on, they finally leave the motel, hopping into the jeep and on their way to the diner.

Just like before, Mary pushed her feet on the dashboard. Marlene took the map, and handed it to Mary.

“I have no idea where we’re going,” Mary said, trying to read the map. She squinted, trying to read through Alabama’s tiny words.

“It’s 1283 Washington St.”

“Yeah? and where the fuck is that?!”

Huffing, Marlene took the map, one hand on the wheel and eyes glued to the map. “There,” she pointed with her nose, showing it to Mary, who finally saw it.

It was so tiny, she was afraid to lose it. Quickly, she read over the town name, and grabbed it back. “Alright, go west.”

Silence fell over them as Marlene drove, eyebrows creasing as she focused on the road, sometimes taking a peek at the map. Mary gazed out of the window, watching them pass through desert streets and parks filled with happy families.

She wondered then, how her life would’ve turned out if she had a childhood like that.

“I have a question,” it was Marlene who broke the silence. “What do you think the purpose of life is?”

Blink. Blink. Mary laughed then, earning an incredulous look from Marlene, who couldn’t help but smile, too.

“What kind if question is that?”

“What?! It’s a valid one.”

“It’s corny.”

“It’s a good way of knowing how someone thinks.”

“Well, I think the purpose of life is to struggle, win, lose, fuck and die.”

“Fuck and die,” she parroted. “What a beautiful purpose.”

“It really is,” Mary grinned. “What’s your purpose?”

“I think we’re meant to explore. To learn new things and never let history die. To pass it down to those around us and keep important things alive.”

“How poetic.”

“Fuck you,” Mary laughed. Hard and loud. Her head is thrown back, and faintly in the background, she could hear Marlene chuckle too. “I’m serious.”

“I know, that’s why it’s funny. You’ve thought a lot about that, no?”

“It haunts my everyday.”

“Alright, I have a question, then,” Mary rested her elbow against the opened window, map left on the curve between her legs and chest.

“Go on.”

“Is your glass half full or half empty?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mary cackles, and Marlene softly punches her thigh. She noticed now, she’d never touched Marlene. Before she could stop herself, Mary reached to shove Marlene by the shoulder.

Hard. Like she worked out on a daily basis — not that Mary hadn’t noticed it before, with the way every shirt looked tight on her no matter how big it actually was.

“Answer it.”

“Half full.”

“Bullshit,” she replied. “How can a glass be half full?”

“It’s obviously half full.”

“You’re too optimistic.”

“And you’re too pessimistic.”

Mary rolled her eyes, letting the conversation lead another way. As they crossed the green, they continued with the questions. Marlene talked about her childhood — she’d grown up in a full house, being best friends with her little sister, Rhea and nearly enemies with her twin brother, Mason. He was the typical jock, always thinking he was better than the next person for the amount of girls he got to bed. Homophobia wasn’t excluded from the package, either.

Mary had seen all types of prejudice. She’d felt the racism, and she’d seen the homophobia. Mainly, at Church. She’d hear it from his father and watch it from the old ladies and the men that filled the crowd.

Therefore, nothing Marlene told her about Mason was at all a surprise. The slurs, the screams and the threats.

On a positive light, she talked about how her mother had been her best friend throughout the tough times. That, when she didn’t have anyone, she had her ma. Mary wished she could relate to it.

Back and forth, they shared small things about their past. Mary talked about Lily, and Remus — especially about Remus, and their relationship.

It had been fast, like a blink of an eye. It didn’t last more than three months, but in the span of those 91 days, they’d lived a roller-coaster, an up and down that Mary couldn’t have braced herself for enough.

When it was good, it was flames in a wild-fire. When it was bad, it was nearly as cold as Antarctica itself. She still remembered the sex, and how she could never guess when it would feel good or the worst thing she’d ever experienced.

“Disgusted?” Marlene asked, and Mary nodded.

“Yeah, it was weird,” she said. “Sometimes it felt really good, but I can’t really remember those times. Those I do, it’s just… the sickening feeling that his touch gave me. He did everything the same, it’s just… a weird thing in me.”

“Do you think it’s the guilt?”

“What do you mean?”

“By the words of the bible, you’re supposed to wait until marriage. Was it that?”

She had no idea. It might’ve been, but, at the same time, there was never truly that much guilt going on. At first, it did. But as she kept sinning, it started to become as easy as breathing, addictive. She could still remember the first time she’d down a shot of tequila without ending up throwing up in anxiety, apologizing to God — something she never did without being forced into it.

Albeit, in a way, it was still forceful. She was pushed by the guilt and the words of her father into begging God for another chance.

However, she wasn’t sure if guilt played a part in the sex she had.

“Maybe at first,” she said, “but I’m quite free from all of that. Haven’t prayed in nearly six months – apart from when I pretended I did. At Church.”

Marlene hummed, like Mary’s life was a puzzle she was attempting to solve. “It’s not normal to feel disgusted by sex. Do you like sex?”

“I love sex.”

“Do you liked Remus?”

“He’s my best friend,” she frowned at the insinuation.

“No, I mean – were you in love with him?”

“I don’t know,” it’s a whisper. Her feelings for Remus — or the lack of it — had always been quite of a tough topic, something she felt ashamed to admit. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t answer much.”

“I don’t think there should be an answer. We’re broken up and it’s not like I’ll see him again anyway,” it’s rough. Rougher than she intended. Her legs fell off the dashboard, and she all but shoved the map onto Marlene’s lap to look outside at all the green surrounding them, following the Sun as it nearly reaches it’s full potential.

Mary always became defensive whenever the subject was brought up, faced with the demons whose faces she could not see. A vast void of pure nothing that suffocated her into confusion. If there was one thing she hated, was being speechless — that’s exactly what happened when someone questioned her feelings for all the people she dated, which weren’t much, but enough to make herself believe something was deeply wrong with her.

Perhaps it was the fact her parents never truly loved each other, or maybe it wasn’t. There was no right answer except from the fact she was as hard to love as she struggled to give love to someone.

Marlene had looked at her, eyes softly bulged out. Yet, she didn’t press as they fell back to crickets until she was pulling up at the diner.

Mary didn’t wait before she got out, pacing to the diner. Something in the back of her brain questioned the possibility of leaving Marlene behind, but her bag stayed inside the car, and honestly, Marlene wasn’t bad at all. Just maybe a little too curious.

Yet, Mary had brought that upon herself when she offered to go with her to Seattle.

“I’m sorry,” Marlene had said when they were finally eating their breakfast.

As she chewed on the egg, Mary looked up at Marlene, who had an apologetic look to her.

As an answer, she gave a shrug. “It’s fine. I overreacted. Sensitive topic.”

“Don’t worry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s your personal life.”

Mary shot her a warm smile. “Anyway, are we still going to the museum?”

“If you want to.”

“It sounds kind of boring, but I’m in nonetheless,” Mary shrugged, and Lord, how she was starving.

Pancakes had never been as delicious as those ones, she was sure of it. Part of her mourned the fact of never coming back to this diner, even with the knowledge of every single one being the exact same.

“What’re we gonna do in Tennessee?” she asked through a mouthful.

Marlene stopped for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to find out on our way there.”

Mary was used to plans. Everything she had ever done had a start, middle and an end — jumping head first into things isn’t something that came quite naturally for her, and she knew that, if she was alone, perhaps she would’ve been freaking out and blaming impulsivity.

But then again, she’d learn to cherish it.

Chapter Text

Mary had truly no idea why she’d let Marlene take her hiking in the middle of a place none of them knew. 

Not that anything bad had happened apart, of course, from Mary’s sore legs and dry mouth. Marlene, on the other hand, was totally calm, as though they hadn’t walked for two hours straight in some weird forest in Alabama with only a map to guide them both.

How she managed not to get them lost, Mary didn’t know.

“Can you… wait?” Mary exasperated, many feet behind Marlene, who had her head drowned into the map as they paced back to the jeep.

At that, she looked over her shoulder. Her eyebrows, once creased, relaxed as she froze in place. Yet, she had to throw her hands around in indignation, as she had done half the hike.

“Are you seriously tired?”

Mary stopped once she was close enough, placing both hands on her hips and throwing her head back to breathe some fresh air. “Do you realize it’s 86ºF right now, and we just walked for two hours because you thought it’d be so fun?”

“And it was! Did you see that cute raccoon?”

“Yeah, talk like we didn’t get lucky for not crossing a coyote.”

Marlene laughed. “That’d be more fun, actually.”

“Are you suicidal?”

Marlene didn’t reply, simply shook her head. “Let’s go, Tennessee is waiting for us.”

And with that, she started marching fast enough to leave Mary behind again. This time, she didn’t even try to make her slow down, simply groaned quietly and kept walking through aching legs. 

The only thing in her mind was truly sitting in that car with fresh water and open windows. And, after a couple minutes, she finally managed to slump into the passenger seat.

Marlene reached for the two bottles of water she’d bought at the museum they’d visited early in the day, and handed one to Mary, who chugged so fast on it she had to burp afterwards.

“I’m never letting you come up with things to do.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Marlene said as she started driving.

“Dramatic?! Dude, we walked so much I think I won’t ever be able to take a step again.”

“You walked just fine – and I know you had fun,” she affirmed, like there were no doubts.

And, well, it wasn’t totally awful. They’d made some stops, and talked about a lot of things that allowed Mary to feel more comfortable in Marlene’s presence — as in, being sure she wasn’t a crazy serial killer waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She’d laughed. A lot. Because Marlene was also extremely funny — but she’d also nearly cried of tiredness, and that was enough to obfuscate the rest of the day.

“How far are we?” In a sight, Mary props her feet on top of the seat and against her torso.

“Like an hour, I believe. We’ve still gotta cross the river.”

Reaching forward, Mary turns on the radio, quickly turning it off after a second. “You told me you had a tape with you, right?”

Marlene frowned, as though she didn’t remember telling Mary exactly that during their hike. Then, her mouth opened into a perfect ‘O’.

“Oh, yeah. Why?”

“I wanna evaluate your music taste.”

Marlene tittered. “And what will you do if you disapprove?”

Mary shrugged. “Jump out of the car.”

It wasn’t that funny. Yet, Marlene threw her head back in laughter. Mary allowed herself to stare, then, watching how her throat bounced and her teeth were a perfect shade between white and yellow. Not exaggerated, like everything else about her.

She couldn’t help but smile, and then, laugh along.

“I’m serious,” she said.

“About jumping?! I feel offended.”

“No, asshole,” she kicked her leg, “I mean about wanting to see your music taste.”

Marlene took a long look at her. “Backseat. It’s in my bag.”

Eagerly, Mary grabbed it, nearly falling off her seat. The bag was brown and large. She unzipped it, expecting to see all the sandwiches Marlene had claimed to have packed before the trip. But what she saw was a pistol resting on top of some clothing. Her body froze, and she picked it up, showing it to Marlene.

“Are you kidding?”

Marlene’s eyes flickered between the road and Mary, and then, she was smirking quietly. “Put that down.”

Mary took a better look at the pistol instead. It was a shiny silver, leather on the sides and sharp edges. Holding it felt quite literally illegal, and heart-racing.

“I thought you said you had a gun in the trunk and not your bag.”

“I also have it in the trunk.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and she licked her lips, hand softly shaking around the gun, like it could fire at any given moment.

“How many do you have?”

“Three with that one,” she said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“I’m starting to believe you’re a murderer.”

Marlene grinned, tongue licking the top of her teeth. “Would a murderer let you have a gun pointed to my head?”

Mary hadn’t even realized she’d been holding the pistol toward Marlene. Her head tilted at how comfortable she sounded and looked, like it didn’t matter if Mary shot her — or worse, like she knew she wouldn’t.

Slowly, she shifted the gun upwards, and silently took a breath in. “Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

“How to use a gun.”

“You don’t know?” Mary shook her head. “Alright, I’ll teach you when we’re somewhere far from people.”

A grin. “Thanks,” happily, Mary placed the pistol on the backseat, fumbling with Marlene’s bag until she was finally finding the tape, returning the gun afterward. “Aren’t you afraid it’ll accidentally fire?”

“What?”

As she placed the tape, she said, “The gun. It’s in the bag.”

“I’m not that stupid. It’s not loaded yet.”

Nirvana began to reverberate through the car, and Mary leaned comfortably against her seat. “When do you when when to load?”

“When I feel like I might get in danger soon.”

Mary scoffed. “And how would you know?”

“I have a great intuition,” it’s all she said, shoulder sagging and lips curling up.

Mary tilted her head quietly, and nodded along. “And what is your intuition telling you right now?”

“That you’re curious,” she said.

“That’s not intuition. I’ve been asking questions about it.”

“I didn’t mean the gun.”

Their eyes locked, and Mary felt the world freeze under her feet. She raised her chin, and gulped, eyes completely unable to tore themselves away from Marlene’s ocean. She chuckled quietly, relaxing when Marlene returned to the road.

“You like Nirvana?”

“I love Nirvana.”

“Remus used to listen to it to. My dad never allowed me to listen to anything that wasn’t about God,” she confessed, and Marlene frowned.

“What?”

“I told you, he sucked.”

“I can see that.”

“He had, like, a billion rules for me,” she sighed, pushing herself out of her shoes to rest comfortably on the seat. “He didn’t let me drink cranberry juice, or go anywhere after school if he wasn’t there. I had to skip school to be with my friends. When I started dating Remus, we could only hang out around family.”

“Maybe that’s also why it didn’t work. I mean, there’s no privacy to build a proper relationship.”

“Yeah, but we found our ways to have alone moments.”

“I bet you did.”

“How about you?”

“What about me?”

“I tell you everything about my life, and I only know your childhood.”

“Do you think that’s not enough?” she inquired.

“Are you trying to be mysterious?” 

“My life is not that interesting,” Marlene said, and Mary scoffed.

“C’mon, mine isn’t either.”

A long inhale. “Um – I had a girlfriend whom I broke up weeks before starting this trip.”

“Why?” 

Marlene shrugged. “Cheated on me. It was what I needed to finally get into this car and get the fuck out of Louisiana.”

“God,” Mary grumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I’m okay now – this trip has been making me forget she even was in my life.”

“How long were you together?”

“Ten months,” she said. “She cheated on me with her best friend. I found out because of James, my friend.”

“The one who lived in Seattle?”

“That one.”

“How did he know?”

“He was involved with her best friend,” she laughed, and Mary’s eyebrows raised.

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck them both,” it’s what she said.

“Fuck them both.”

“What was her name?”

“Which one?”

Mary raised her shoulders just to let them fall right after. “Can be both.”

“My ex’s name was Emma,” she said, “her best friend was Amelia.”

“Well, Emma didn’t deserve you.” 

“She didn’t, but that’s okay. We had a fairly good relationship before things came to shit.”

“I doubt a relationship where you were cheated on is anywhere near being good.”

Marlene shrugged. “We were fairly happy.”

“She clearly wasn’t,” Mary murmured, earning a sharp look from Marlene. “I’m not saying you made her unhappy, it’s just that for someone to cheat they’ve got to be really unhappy with themselves.”

In return, Marlene simply nodded, considering the words. “It’s whatever now.”

Mary doubted it was whatever, seeing that Marlene had specifically said they’d broken up weeks before the trip. Now, she had no idea how long Marlene had been on the road, but it couldn’t be for much longer than Mary.

She didn’t push it, though, refraining to silence as they drove in between forests. Marlene’s tape kept playing, and Mary came to realize her music taste was absurdly different from hers, but still good. More grunge and punk rock, but still amazing. For that, she turned the music louder.

“You like it?”

“It’s pretty dope,” she said. 

Marlene grins. “Well, I’m glad you think so. I was afraid you’d hate it.”

Mary scoffs. “It fits you.”

“My music taste was absolutely influenced by James,” she says. “He was the one showing me all of it.”

“Tell James I love his music taste.”

“Will do.”

“Lily would hate it, though,” Mary snorts, and Marlene frowns ever so slightly. “Lily’s my best friend, she – she’s more of a jazz girl.”

Her heart clenches up at the thought of never seeing Lily ever again. Even addressing her as a best friend was the most painful thing she’s ever done — to think that sooner or later, Mary won’t be worthy of that title anymore because she left without a single word. That right now, Lily must think she’s either dead or worse, and Mary cannot tell her otherwise. Can’t reassure her of her safety and talk about Marlene.

She’ll never see Lily again and that’s entirely her parents’ fault.

“You never talked about her. In detail, I mean.”

“Yeah, it’s just–”

“You miss her.”

“Yes,” Mary says.

“I miss James, too. Leaving everything behind feels freeing and restrictive at the same time.”

Things were different for them, not that Marlene knew about it. Still, Mary couldn’t help but let frustration settle in. “I wish I could see her one more time. She is… one of the best people I’ve ever met. Lily’s kind. The type of kind that would never want anything in return, and she was there for me when no one else was.”

“She seems lovely.”

“She is,” it’s what she says, swallowing down the uncontrollable melancholy that bubbled up her throat. “She, uh, she’s been my best friend since third grade.”

Marlene’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “That’s a lifetime.”

Mary snickers quietly. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

She still remembers the first time she’s spoken to Lily.

“Your shoes,” she had said, and Mary had looked down, and then back at her.

“What about them?”

“My mom has ones like that, but for big folks.”

From there, they never stopped talking again. They’d sit together at every class, and spend every break together. So much so that they'd even forget about making other friends for a long while, only expanding their social circle by the end of middle school.

Mary never needed anyone else, though. She had Lily, so she had everything.

“We could… You know, when we stop by a phone booth, you could call her. I’m gonna call James, too.”

Mary’s eyes fill with hope that’s quickly shattered. For a second, she embraces the possibility — thinks of telling Lily everything, every detail and why it happened.

Then, she’s reminded that could never happen. Both for her and Lily’s safety. It’d make things worse, no matter how tempting it sounded.

“I – I… I don’t remember her phone number.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we rarely called. She lived too close for us to ever need that.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s alright,” Mary says, hugging her own legs. Noticing the shift in the mood, Marlene turned the music up, and let them settle back to silence.

Mary appreciated it, looking out of the window and allowing herself to appreciate the shift between Alabama and Tennessee as they crossed the bridge.

†

The sadness didn’t stay forever. Eventually, with the passing of time and racing thoughts, Mary embraced reality, and the choice she’d made. Choice which she wouldn’t back away from. The only way was forward, and Mary had to learn how to accept such a fact.

They drove through Tennessee for hours, and Mary listened to Marlene talk about her favourite artists and why they were her favourite artists. Mary didn’t understand a single thing, but still listened wholeheartedly. 

Listening to Marlene was soothing, like materiality was merely a belief that dissipated whenever Mary enveloped herself in her world.

It was something she’d never felt before. With God, she was more aware than ever about her flesh and bones — how small she was compared to him. The reminder of her insignificance in this vast universe.

Mary wasn’t used to feeling on the top of the world by simply being next to someone. Especially someone who was the result of how reckless she could be when forced into it.

After hours of driving through packed and empty streets, the car finally came to a stop. They hopped right out, and made their way to the closest bar they could find. The sun was still up, but it felt awfully close to the end of the day.

“Wait,” Marlene held her wrist by the door. “You’re 20.”

Mary froze, and then, broke into a smirk. Pulling her bag to the front of her torso, she meddled until she found her ID.

“Do you think I came unprepared?”

Marlene frowned, picking it up. “September 16th, 1971,” she read. “A fake ID, seriously?”

“ Sh, ” Mary snatched the card back. “Don’t judge me.”

“How did you get that?”

“I knew some people from my school. This ID’s four years-old.”

Marlene grinned in a roll of eyes. “You never fail to impress me, MacDonald.”

“Using last names, are we, McKinnon?”

She was left with a response, only a smirk as they finally walked inside. It wasn’t packed, far from it — there were only a few people scattered around the place. So empty even the bartenders were having drinks themselves, stopping at the sight of them.

Sitting next to each other, they ordered their drinks. Mary asked for a whiskey, while Marlene settled for a simple beer — it fit her, somehow —, and they talked, like they always did.

“You have tattoos?” Mary quirked a brow.

“Three.”

“Where?” she asked, leaning toward Marlene, who shook her head before taking a long gulp on her drink.

“On my back, on my ankle and on my thigh.”

Mary inhales softly and slowly. She imagined what they looked like — probably as rough as Marlene herself; a wolf or some wild animal.

“I want to see them,” she says before she can think of it.

Marlene blinks, and blinks. “When we stop by a motel.”

Mary slides her tongue across her inner lower lip, smiling down at her half-empty third glass.

“You know, I like you, Marlene,” she confesses. “You’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“I can say the same.”

“I made a great choice,” Marlene grins at her, putting down her beer.

“I was the one that let you in.”

Mary shrugs. “Then you made a great choice.”

“I really did,” Marlene says. “You’re – there’s something about you. I don’t know what exactly, but you keep me curious. I know there’s a lot of things I don’t know about you, and I want to.”

Mary’s breath catches. She swallows down, finger circling her glass. It’s unfair that Marlene has been nothing but open and yet Mary was a locked up book. She knows that — but she likes Marlene so much, and the lie had extended for too long for her to reveal the truth now.

She can’t imagine what Marlene would think of her: an angsty girl who ran away from home because she couldn’t handle her parents’ strict rules. A 20 year-old who’s only truly living now.

It was embarrassing. A kind of embarrassing Mary couldn’t really grasp the feeling of.

“I’ll tell you everything,” she lies once more.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Mary smiles, shaking her head. She’d never been much resistant to alcohol, always sensible to more than two glasses — maybe it’s because she always for the strongest drinks she can find, but it’s not like she’d stop either.

“Do you ever miss Amelia?” she can’t help but ask.

Marlene stops, hand around her bottle. Then, she’s sighing. “Weirdly not much. I think I grieved all I had to grieve before I got into my car and took off.”

“ Mm, ” Mary considers it. “Makes sense. It’s just – well, I wouldn’t have moved on from it.”

“No, I mean – It still hurts, it was a 10 month long relationship that I believed it’d last much longer. It’s just… I find it useless to be crying over it when she’s most definitely happy with Emma somewhere. Besides, I’m making the trip of my life with someone really good, so it doesn’t matter.”

Mary’s heart flutters, and she giggles softly, hand coming to hide her mouth. All her interior was flipping around and re-arranging itself, a type of sensation she couldn’t name.

Marlene simply grinned at her. “What?”

Mary props her chin to the heel of her palm. “You think I’m really good?”

“Oh, shut up,” Marlene rolls her eyes.

“Careful, I might get the wrong impression.”

Finishing her beer, Marlene slaps the bottle on the counter. “You know what? Let’s hop back into the car.”

Mary's stomach sinks and returns into place. A joke fabricates itself in her brain, but vanishes right after. “Yeah, let’s go,” it’s all she can say.

†

Things are silent in the car as they drive around. Marlene is blinking herself awake — driving tipsy being the worst idea she’s ever had.

Mary, on the other hand, can’t help but spiral back to the bar every few seconds and the way Marlene’s hands looked when she held the bottle, and how her fangs shined when she grinned at Mary. 

To this moment, her stomach kept flipping at her words.

Let’s hop back into the car.

Mary swallows down, her skin itching from the inside out. She couldn’t help but feel a desperate need to crawl out of her own throat, escape the foreign feelings someone had allowed in without her consent.

She doesn’t know what it means, and in all honesty, didn’t even want to.

“Is that a drive-in?” Marlene asks, bringing Mary’s full attention to her. 

She follows her gaze to the parking lot to their left, and before Mary could even say anything, Marlene was driving to it.

“What movie is that?”

A big smile paints Marlene’s lips as she says, “Wyatt Earp. James talked about it a few months ago that it was going to come out.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s basically about this dude, Wyatt Earp, who goes from a messed-up young guy to a legendary lawman in the Wild West.”

“Oh,” she says, turning her head to the screen.

The movie was most definitely half way through already, meaning it was too late for Mary to ever understand it fully. Still, she rolls down the windows, and Marlene does the same, relaxing against the seat.

In all honesty, it was a good thing they’d stopped. That way both of them could sober up.

“That dude’s hot,” Mary sighs, trying to find anything to fill the gaps of the silence.

“Doc Holliday?”

“Yeah.”

Marlene shrugs. “I wanna be him.”

Mary chuckles. “You wanna be him?”

“He’s cool,” she says. “I wouldn’t say hot , like you, but definitely someone I’d look forward to stealing the vibes of.”

“What more men do you wanna steal the vibes of?”

“Peter Mitchell.”

Mary frowns. “From top gun?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I do,” Mary clarifies. “It’s just shocking you do.”

“Why?” she snickers, turning her head to Mary.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I thought you’d be more of a horror person.”

“I like horror, too – what’s your favorite movie?”

“The labyrinth.”

“Classic.”

“Can you shut up?!” a man from their side shouts, and Marlene turns her head in a blink of an eye.

“What did you say?”

“I said shut up! We’re trying to watch a movie.”

“We’re whispering, dude. Mind your own business.”

“Marlene,” Mary holds her wrist.

“What did you say, bitch?”

“I’m sorry, we’ll be quiet,” Mary speaks before Marlene can say anything else and make the situation worse. Bending forward, she closes the window from Marlene’s side. “What the fuck?”

“Did you hear how he was speaking?”

“Let’s watch the movie, yeah?”

Despite the huff, Marlene turns back to the screen.

She takes one last look at the man, who was still groaning to himself, and for a second, allowed herself to think about how Marlene had replied. Loud and threatening tone, like she’d be ready for a fight if given the chance. 

The worst part is that, despite everything, Mary didn’t feel scared of her — she felt safe.

With a burning stomach, she allows herself to try and focus on the movie. Yet, ended up in the backseat anyway, deep in her sleep.