CHAPTER I

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[.16.11.25.]

There had been countless times when Marlowe knew, somewhere inside of him, that he would definitely get used to them, whatever they were, because he had learnt that the bad people in life had once been good people too—oh how, minuscule to think that the dark things that still lingered his insides and crawled in his brain with the intention of ruling over him, were all good things gone bad.

That's what he always assumed, though.

What he was always taught by a stroke of the cheek and a few sympathetic words from his prodigious parents—although he should've known that the drugs would eventually subside and the prescription pills him and his brother secretly took would become non effective to their sick bodies and with time, stop supplying their basic medication they both needed to seem healthy to the naked eye.

He hated how neither of them could feel normal too.

How Max's impulsive thoughts kept him up every second of every hour, sleepless because of his medication never fully working. How just in one swift movement he would catch Max chugging down pills heavily medicating himself, all because he needed to feel normal.

So Marlowe stopped.

He stopped taking it all, leaving his body in a withdrawal because that was the only way he knew he could feel normal too. He wanted every single thing to end and Ardie knew that. Ardie knew that and only that before he left town.

Yet, it surprised Teddy how a gesture so small could feel heavy in the eschewed night, how her nightly rounds of being a lifeguard watching the area became treacherous. That if she kept still, the loaded gun aimed and cocked to his head would go off and the figure in front of her would be no more.

She watched his callused hands grip onto the barrel as the distorting wind ruffled his hair hellishly. His fingers wrapped around the metal and she could only guess the familiar feeling was a part of himself rather than a tool of death.

He let out an astute sigh of grief. "Let me be." He cautioned and she was adverted to the feeble voice —the raucous tone of his vocals because for the love of God, she knew that voice but it wasn't the correct way she'd always hear it through the corridors—"Marlowe will be there." "He's handsome, isn't he, Marlowe." "He's one of the good ones, Marlowe."

Fuck, who didn't know that voice, that name.

This couldn't be.

Teddy dodged her instinct and went with the information in front of her—the truth and simultaneously, like she had meant to register the prodigy boy's silhouette as second nature, found she was correct. Soon, something downshifted. Split into unequal parts and invaded—she recognized only then, that the dangerous night had fully completed. The godly sky became nondescript at a dense rate, furious clouds thick with unspoken words melted on the tip of tongues and he glared uneasily downward at the colliding irregular currents bruising the shallow shore.

With quick expeditions she approached the edge of the cliff more half-heartedly only to think on impulse. "You should be home." She divulged squinting her eyes to withdraw particles of sand from them. "Get back from the edge." She warned stopping meters behind him because Teddy knew enough about water to know it did not resist.

It was not patient.

It was not going to stop tomorrow from happening and it was not going to feel a damn thing for Marlowe within a few solid minutes. It was going to carry on its own way, dragging him far down to the depths of the ocean.

"Please, I can barely see you." She spoke strictly, gazing the poorly-lit flashlight over the woeful boy. "This is not safe!" She condoned with a righteous tone.

"You don't understand." He looked at her distractedly. Tears flushing his exhausted eyes. "I don't need to be here." Yet, that was all he had thought to say; narrow-minded he had become never once explaining where he vowed to be either.

On impulse, Teddy replied. "Then, I'll take you there, anywhere you wish to be! Everywhere you need to be!" She thinks, but naturally her voice of reason trembled—a weak hero she became as her real words broke out. "Please." She begged walking more to the edge barely five steps from his shoulders.

His fingers trembled vividly as they dug hungrily into the barrel of the deadly weapon, his body glitched and he spoke hasty to her under his breath, or perhaps it was the wind. The wind eating at his desperate vocals tuning his fatal words out of her ears' reach. The same moaning wind edging her on pious thoughts and rattling decisions in her head instead of aiding the known boy of assistance. "Please."

He took another side glance at the alarming girl. "Please."

The expression on her face slightly darkened and he could tell a lot about her just by looking into her mahogany eyes. How he wished he was one of those people, the people who knew what to say, the people who could spot the differences and be perfectly okay. A person like her was ideal, and it showed within her eyes. Yet, the truth was he could never be that person.

Not now.

Not ever.

"Put the gun down and we ca—" She tried to bring herself to speak saintly.

But, there was no clear feeling she had felt — no right or wrong emotion she had consumed than a depicting gasp and her uncomprehending body giving in at the knees. Her taunting eyes glued to his limbless body's attraction and she couldn't get the quick motions out of her brain. The way the trigger was pulled embarking one thick bullet to his temple in an eerie way as if he'd done it before. As if he had taken so many lives under his slick personality and charming looks. As if he had done horrible things in the deathless streets that no one should know about under his supervision—and it felt like the night couldn't end as rosy blood splattered when he dropped and gravity kissed his body delightfully.

So soon a K I N G was lost that night.


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