"Fox on the run,

You scream and everybody comes a running,

Take a run and hide yourself away...,"

-Fox on the Run; by The Sweet

9 Years Ago

It wasn't uncommon for Marlowe to hear screaming on the lower levels. The house was big, voices echoed. In some areas, at least. Marlowe had been told by her mother to lock herself in her room, just to be safe; it certainly confused the five-year-old as to why she'd have to lock herself in her room, but she knew better than to question her mother. Then, when she heard her father's angered voice, she understood. He was in one of his moods.

Marlowe's father wasn't a very pleasant man at the best of times. He treated his wife with disrespect, he hardly acknowledged his daughter if he could help it. His thoughts were always preoccupied in other ways.

Something broke. It made Marlowe flinch. Her mother screamed and her father shouted. Then Marlowe heard her name, her mother had said it. Her father shouted again.

A bad feeling started rolling its way through Marlowe's stomach.

That Night

Silence had filled the house for the remainder of the day. Not a single sound could be heard, only the occasional footsteps of someone walking. But no one spoke. Marlowe cautiously left her bedroom, hoping to see nothing too seriously damaged. The only thing she saw that was damaged was a picture frame in the hallway. It looked like it had been thrown.

Marlowe's mother was sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up. When she noticed her daughter, a look came across her face. "I told you to stay in your room," she said, her voice sounding almost flat.

"I know." Walking over, Marlowe sat next to her mother, making sure to avoid the shards of glass. The picture that had been inside was not too far from the frame, covered in glass remnants. "It was quiet," she said. They didn't talk for a few minutes. "Where's daddy?"

There was hesitation. "He's. . . .out."

"When's he coming back?" Marlowe looked up at her mother.

"I don't know."

Another silence fell between them.

"I'm leaving." The way Marlowe's mother said those two words, so cynically and deliberately, made Marlowe not only look up at her mother in surprise, but made her stomach knot up in fear.

"Am I going with you?" she asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"You'd get in trouble."

"I wanna come with you," Marlowe exclaimed.

"You're staying here with your father." When she looked down at her daughter, she almost felt heartbroken, seeing the look on the young girl's face. "You'll be in less danger that way."

Tears formed in Marlowe's eyes. "You can't leave!" she shouted. "You can't!"

"I have to." The sharpness in her tone made Marlowe stop herself short from shouting again. She knew that her parents didn't always get along, that was something she was used to. But never—never—had one of them ever considered leaving. "I. . . .I have to," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Marlowe."

The tears spilled over. Marlowe hiccupped a sob. "Why can't I come?" she stammered. "Did I do something?"

"Baby, don't ever say that." Marlowe's mother embraced her, hugging her tightly. "You've never done anything wrong, OK?"

"But you're leaving. . . ."

". . . .I know." When the embrace ended, Marlowe's mother looked at her with tearful eyes, a strained smile on her face. "Don't worry, though, OK? It'll all be OK."

When Marlowe's mother touched her forehead, a sensation washed over her before she fell unconscious.

Present Day

Amity Park was a relatively decent sized city. It wasn't too overcrowded, which Marlowe greatly appreciated. She wasn't a fan of overly-populated areas. Amity Park, on the other hand, balanced out its citizens rather nicely.

When Marlowe first came to her new home, she wasn't sure what to expect. She had mentally prepared herself for the worst possible solution, but when nothing too serious happened, she allowed herself to let her guard down just a little. A majority of the people she encountered were pleasant, willing to help the fourteen-year-old with whatever questions she had. Eventually, Marlowe found herself at a local burger joint called The Nasty Burger. It wasn't something Marlowe would've found herself eating at, or even hanging out in, but. . . .she was hungry. The inside of the small joint was everything she expected—stock full of teenagers, and small families, stuffing their faces with burgers, fries, and milkshakes. It even had that fast-food smell. Grease and the faint smell of cleaners.

Marlowe walked up to the front, looking at the menu stationed across the counter.

"Welcome to The Nasty Burger, how can I help you?" A young employee looked at Marlowe expectantly.

"I'm still deciding, thanks." Marlowe threw out her best smile. The employee went to do something else. The chatter of the other customers behind her was distracting, the smell was overwhelming, and the hypersensitivity of being in a new city was unbelievable. For a split second, Marlowe's mind wandered at how far she had come. Snapping herself out of it, she quickly decided to get a burger and fries. Once her order had been placed and she paid, in cash, she looked for an open seat. When she found one, she quickly went to sit down and waited until her order was ready.

Taking off her backpack, Marlowe placed it on the seat across from her, hoping it'd stop anyone from thinking she wanted company.

Marlowe was in no mood to be befriending anyone.

Once her order had been called, she quickly got up and retrieved it, making sure to say thank you before sitting down. Opening the bag, she took out her burger, unwrapping it from the covering that it was in, and took a bite. It was greasy, like she expected, but better than nothing. It had felt like a lifetime since she actually allowed herself to eat.

While she ate, Marlowe took an opportunity to look around, to take in her surroundings. The teenagers were gathered around their groups of friends, chatting and laughing rather loudly. The families were sitting a bit further from the teenagers, trying to enjoy a moment to themselves. Nothing seemed out of place in Marlowe's opinion.

Before she could even take another bite of her burger, someone approached Marlowe's table. A young boy with blue eyes and messy looking black hair. There was an apologetic smile on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, chuckling nervously, "but is it OK if I borrow this chair?" He pointed to the one Marlowe's backpack was on. "I just need an extra seat for one of my friends."

Looking at him closely, Marlowe let closed her mouth and pursed her lips slightly. Reaching over to grab her backpack, she motioned for him to take the chair.

"Thank you," he said.

Marlowe watched as he took the chair and went over to a small table a few feet from her. There, she could see his friends. A goth girl and an African American boy. He'd been getting a chair for the goth.

Letting out a sigh, she returned to her burger.

(A/N):

Pretty short first chapter, maybe not the best ever, but hopefully you guys found something enjoyable in it. What do you think of Marlowe? Let me know what you think, OK?

DP doesn't belong to me.

If there's any confusion on this chapter, leave a review or PM me and I'll try and clear it up the best I can.

Be sure to tell me what I should improve on.

Thanks.

Kaia Milligan