WARNING! This contains mention of child molestation and possibly a few other things if you really, really want to. Continue at your own risk.
"Vexed" is simply there for lack of a better title. I honestly cannot find a better one. To be honest, this was supposed to be just something based off of the Grand Theft Auto games...and it starts out like...this...I'm sorry. So, so sorry. Just...yeah. I made it this way because all the protagonists ever in those games have a chilling, disturbing, sad, or downright fucked up backstory and I wanted it to be like that. I'm sorry. I didn't want to. But...yeah.
Sorry. Enjoy...if you really can. This will be rated M forever because of this prologue.
Edit: Formally titled "Vexed" but I changed it because, I admit, Vexed is a terrible title for a fanfic. I am terribly sorry.
Prologue: It's Only a Living Nightmare
Her mother combed her fingers through the frayed tousles of Marceline's hair, and chuckled halfheartedly when dried mud broke free from the black locks and fell down onto the counter. "Oh, Marceline," she said, voice quiet and soothing, and as warm as sunshine, "I don't know how you keep managing to get yourself into so much trouble." Marceline sniffed and delicately touched the cuts on her knee.
"It wasn't my fault…" the girl protested. Her face was caked in dirt and tears. "They tried to take Hambo from me." She flinched visibly when her mom took her hands away from the scraped knee and pressed a wet, warmed towel against the cut. The towel quickly turned from white to red. "When I told them no, they pushed me into the mud and…they ran away with him."
Her mother simply nodded, replying quietly, "Is that so?" She rinsed the towel thoroughly and squeezed the water out. She used the clean end to clean the dirt from Marceline's cheeks. "Well, those boys certainly need a talking to, don't they? But you really shouldn't have been out in the yard this late, Marceline. It gets dangerous at around this time; strange people come out at this time of night."
Marceline wiped her eyes, smearing the mud and dirt on her cheeks. She nodded. Her mother sighed and began to wash Marceline's cheeks with another dampened towel.
"Still, Ricardio could stand to teach those boys a few lessons about not ganging up on little girls…" her mother grumbled.
The boys from the apartment right above theirs; for a reason she couldn't understand, they really hated Marceline. They hated her teddy bear, Hambo, even more. Constantly, they berated both her and her toy, calling them names like "ugly" and "filth" and some other words Marceline was sure she was not allowed to repeat. Today, they told her they were gonna rip Hambo up and hide his pieces from her so she couldn't ever find him or put him back together. Her lip quivered, and she furiously wiped away the tears spilling down her cheeks.
"It's gonna be okay, Marcie." Her mom kissed her forehead in a comforting gesture, "We'll get Hambo back. But I want you to promise me that you won't play in the yard after seven anymore." Her mom gave her a stern look. "To be frank, I don't want you out of this apartment at all after seven o'clock. There are people are there who might want to take you away, and I don't want that to happen. So promise me you won't, okay?"
Marceline nodded, looking just slightly defeated. She hadn't expected her mom to be cross with her as well. "I promise I won't, Mommy."
Her mom smiled sweetly, and then tousled her hair. More dried mud flakes cascaded down, and this time she laughed with much more enthusiasm. Marceline managed to smile through her tears as well, and her mom smiled hugely, "Let's get that nast out of your hair, then I'll go get Hambo for you."
"Okay, Mommy!"
It didn't take very long for the shower to be over with. The showerhead was detachable and had loads of different settings, allowing her mother to scrub the mud out of her hair with relative ease. It got a little less easy when her mom decided to clean out her scrapped knee a bit more using some soap and hot water. "I'm so sorry, Marcie," she said, "I don't want this to get infected. It'll hurt a lot worse if it does." It stung badly,but it didn't last for long, and she didn't cry at all—that was a total accomplishment to her.
When Marceline was all dry and dressed in her pajamas for the night, her mother allowed her to sit in the living room to watch cartoons. It was well past her bedtime, at least by thirty minutes, but her mom was allowing it until she returned with Hambo.
"Now remember what I said, sweetheart," her mother said, her voice laced with warning. "No leaving the apartment no matter what, all right?"
"Okay, Mommy." Marceline nearly groaned. She was five; she didn't need to be treated like she was a child.
"I'm off, then. Love you baby. Be good."
"Love you too, Mom!"
The door snapped shut. Marceline focused on the cartoons that danced on the television screen. She stayed like that for a while before becoming bored and deciding to do something else. For a little while she poked at the large band-aid her mom had placed over her scrape and picking at its corners idly as she started staring at the ceiling.
A loud fanfare played over the television speakers. Marceline jumped nearly a foot into the air, startled by the abruptness of it. She whipped her head around and looked at the screen. It was an "Emergency Report". They had been having a lot of those lately. Marceline didn't know what any of them meant, but they all talked about a single man she believed was called Jason-something. She couldn't remember his last name. The kind looking newsman reminded her when he first started speaking.
"Notorious sex offender still at large. Name Jason McCreary, age twenty-four with brown eyes and long dark hair. He was last seen wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. Anyone with information on this man is urged to alert authorities immediately. This man is highly dangerous. It is advised to watch your children closely and keep them indoors at all times until this man is caught. Have a safe night."
This had happened every night for the past week now. Maybe longer than that, but Marceline hadn't exactly been paying attention. All she knew is that the first time she saw this she had been watching cartoons with her mom. It interrupted the show much like it did just now. That was when her mom really started to enforce the "never leave the apartment alone or late at night" rule. Since then, she always seemed so genuinely worried or even a little angry whenever she didn't know exactly where Marceline was.
Frankly, her new behavior made no sense to Marceline at her young age. She did not know what "sex offender" meant. Whenever she would ask, her mom would say something along the lines of "Someone who does really bad things to other people." But that was her mother's explanation to a lot of things Marceline had seen on the news channel. They lived in the City of Ooo, so a lot of what she saw on the news was "bad people who did bad things".
Eventually, after a long while of laying there and staring at nothing and watching mindless cartoons, Marceline finally noticed her mother was not back yet. Marceline sat up on the couch and looked at the digital clock that was resting on the coffee table. It read nine-thirty.
Her mother had left nearly an hour ago. Marceline barely had any concept of time, but it shouldn't have taken that long for Hambo's rescue mission to be completed. Maybe she had gotten into a long conversation with the Ricardio man, or maybe the boys were true to their word and had ripped up Hambo and scattered his pieces, forcing her mom to search for his missing parts.
Marceline momentarily debated walking up to Ricardio's apartment to help her look. She quickly decided not to because her mother had told her to stay here. And disobeying mother's orders after already doing so once before was never a good idea. But even as the looming danger of a spanking and grounding lingered in her thought, she couldn't help but feel anxious.
Mommy never takes this long. Ever.
And that was that. Marceline climbed down from the couch and made a beeline for the front door. She reached up high to grab the doorknob. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, then nervously and slowly walked outside the apartment. It felt awful this time around to disobey her mom, especially since she was now doing it deliberately.
The door slammed shut behind her. Startled out of her wits, Marceline spun around and saw a giant thing standing there with its hand against the door. It wasn't an 'it' though. It was a man. He was dressed in a suit and tie, wearing a pair of sunglasses. Marceline's first thought was of how ridiculous sunglasses-indoors looked.
The man towered over her. "There's been an accident," he said, "Your father has sent me to get you and your mother and bring you over to his house. Your mom is waiting for you in the car."
Marceline's eyes went round. Her father was an important man, mom would always say, and it was because of him that they had this nice apartment in a remotely nice part of town. They lived there because it was far too dangerous for Marceline and her mom to live with him on the other side of town. For them to have to go to his house, something very, very bad must have happened.
"Does Mommy have Hambo with her?" Marceline immediately asked. First things first. She didn't want to leave without her beloved doll.
The man paused, as if confused, then uttered gruffly, "Sure, kid. Let's go." He offered her his hand, and she took it. Ussually, her mom would have nearly chewed her head off for talking to and going places with a total stranger, but this man said he knew her dad. Her father was nearly notorious for having a lot of henchman to do a lot of his dirty work for him. With that in mind, Marceline figured that this would be a fair exception to her mother's rules. And besides, apparently her mom had already met this man, since she was now waiting for them down in his car.
It was the yard just behind the apartment complex. The yard had a much more sinister feeling at night than during the day. Marceline quivered and held the man's hand tighter. His hands were rough and sticky and warm, and being near him was starting to make her feel sick, but right now he was the only comfort she had so she had to make do.
The man opened the car door open for her, and she crawled into the back seat. Marceline was able to buckle herself in just as the man had seated himself in the driver's seat. She looked up and saw her mom sitting in the front passenger seat. Her hand was hung low, and in the dark Marceline could barely see her face. She opened her mouth to ask if she could see Hambo or to ask about why they had to go to dad's house, but instead she found herself gagging on the most disgusting smell ever. It was like rotten tuna mixed with skunk juice.
"Sorry for the stink, lil' Marcie," the man said as he started up the car, "I haven't really cleaned it out lately."
Marceline felt very unnerved when he said that. She wasn't sure why. It was the way he said it. He seemed too happy. The moonlight poured into the cracked windshield and showed the man's face. He was grinning wickedly. Marceline turned to her mom, reaching to grab her arm. "Mommy, can I please have Hambo now?"
Her mother didn't answer. Marceline asked again, confused, and was met again by the same response, nothing. Her efforts to get an answer out of the seemingly sleeping woman earned her a cruel laugh from the man as he drove down the road. The sound of his cackling filled her gut with deep despair, and suddenly she realized that they were going in the exact opposite direction of her father's house.
"Um…Mister, where are we going?"
He only laughed some more. It was a series of giggles this time, as if he knew some kind of secret. The despair knotted itself deeper in her stomach. She looked back to her mom, leaning forward more to shake her, "Mom! Mom, who is this man? Where are we going? Where's Dad? MOM!"
Her mom slumped over to the side, and her face slide into the moonlight. Her eyes weren't there, they were just empty sockets and her face was covered in red. Weird looking bugs were crawling all over her face from out of her mouth and eyes. They looked like worms. Marceline gasped and lunged backwards, her back slamming against the seat, a shrill scream dying in her throat.
"Mom!" she shouted, and tears began to fall down her cheeks, "Mom, what's wrong? Why are you bleeding?! Mister, what happened to her?"
"An accident," he responded simply. He chuckled. The car slowly came to a stop at the side of some kind of endless road. Marceline looked through the window. When on earth did they get here? The man twisted himself in the seat so he could look at Marceline fully. He gave her a toothy grin, the kind that made her heart sink.
"Wh...where's Hambo?" Marceline asked. A hard lump had formed in her throat, her voice quiet and shaky.
The man didn't answer her question. Instead, he asked his own. "I didn't ever introduce myself to you, did I, lil' Marcie?"
Her voice no longer worked. Swallowing hard, she shook her head no at him. His grin grew impossibly wider. He reached back and starting caressing Marceline's cheek. She snapped herself back, away from him. His hand grabbed her by the jaw, and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were filling up with fresh tears. His hand felt like alligator skin, and now she could see that his hands were stained red with blood.
"Well, sweetie pie, my name is Jason McCreary. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you."
Marceline instantly started to hyperventilate. Jason's eyes turned red like blood, and seemed to bore deep into her soul.
"I guess maybe you should have listened to your mom. You should have stayed in your apartment, eh, kiddo?" He laughed at her, cruelly. Marceline wondered, frantically, if her father actually knew Jason. It was the last thought she had before his hand moved to cover her eyes. The world was black for what felt like hours, until she woke up screaming.
(Method to Madness)
The sound of her own scream was what actually woke her up. Sweating and gasping ragged puffs of air, fifteen-year-old Marceline sat up in her bed. She held her blankets close to her chest and squeezed them tight like a security blanket, and she hunched over a bit to try to catch her breath. A few times, she nearly vomited all over her bed because of how sick the nightmare had made her, but she managed to keep whatever was in her stomach down.
Her bedroom door opened suddenly, and the motion of it startled her. Marceline nearly screamed again before she saw that it was only Simon holding a spatula. Much like herself, he looked absolutely terrified. He ran over to her and sat down next to her bed. "Marceline, sweetheart, are you all right? I heard you scream. Did something happen?" His questions came out in a mad rush. After a few seconds, he calmed down and examined her face. "Was it another nightmare?"
Marceline held her head and nodded numbly without saying a word. She heard Simon sigh, and a pair of arms encircled her. Simon held her for a few seconds before squeezing her gently and releasing her. "Why don't you come down and have some breakfast? I'm preparing something really special for you." He smiled at her sweetly. Marceline couldn't help but smile back.
"All right, Simon," she said, as quietly as she could because she just couldn't trust her voice right now, "Can I get dressed?"
"Oh, yes, yes. Sorry, Marceline, I'll be going now. See you at breakfast." He left and shut the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, something hitched in Marceline's chest and she began to sob uncontrollably. She leaned over and hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed, cried, and just bawled near-hysterically for a long while. Eventually, her sobs died down and her tears stopped flowing.
Ten years. It had been ten whole years, and these nightmares still persisted. Usually, it was only two or three times a month. Now it was happening almost every night. She rubbed her temples slowly in a circular motion, groaning tiredly. At least the nightmare had been much less gruesome this time.
Marceline spent a few more minutes mentally preparing herself before sliding out of bed and changing into her day clothes. She had to dig a shirt and jeans out of some unopened boxes. They had only just moved into this house yesterday and hadn't had the chance to unpack properly before deciding to pass out in their beds for the night. She left her room and sluggishly made her way downstairs and into the kitchen.
Simon was standing in front of the stove. He hadn't changed into his daytime clothes yet, and he seemed to be at a loss.
"What's up, Simon?" she asked while stifling a yawn.
Simon responded with a quiet harrumph, "We don't have any milk."
"Yeah, so? Why do we need it?"
"Well, I wanted to make you some strawberry pancakes to make you feel better, because you've been having your nightmares a lot lately, you know? But the milk we did have went bad."
"I told you it was a bad idea to take the milk with us on a two day trip without a cooler." Marceline smiled though. Strawberry pancakes sounded really good right now.
Simon shushed her, "Yeah, yeah, I know you did. That isn't the point. Could you stop by the store and buy some buttermilk? I'd go myself but I'm not dressed and I really need to mind this stove. It looks…rickety."
"Sure thing, Simon." Marceline examined the stove for herself. It looked just fine to her, but she decided not to question her godfather.
"Oh, and pick up some extra strawberries while you're there. That way we can make giant stacks of strawberry pancakes!"
Marceline laughed weakly. What a silly old man, she thought. He was a really good guy, though. Whenever her dad was unable to be there, which was all the time, Simon would be there for her in his place. But recently he had been changing. Marceline wasn't entirely sure how, but she could see it. He seemed to be neglecting to shave, and his graying beard had grown thick and long, down to his chest. She hadn't told him because for a while she thought he had meant for it to do that, and she thought it made him look kind of cool. Unfortunately, he also seemed to be forgetting to shower. That was the real problem.
Oh well, Marceline could stand to remind him a few times a week that his stink was getting a bit too strong. He was the one that had to deal with her screaming every night because of a silly old nightmare, so she thought that it was fair enough.
"Here's the money to buy the stuff. Hurry back!" He handed her fifteen dollars. Marceline smiled at him, said thank you, and pocketed the money before heading to the door. She heard him say something about 'demons possessing the stove' before she shut the door behind her. Marceline's face contorted a bit in confusion, but she shrugged it off started walking towards the general store.
May I have some good critique on this? I'd love to know if the flow's any good or not. Let me know if I should continue and such, please.