April 4th - 10th

Bonnie had come to the realization that she would never be able to rid of the obnoxious customers that came seemingly to annoy her while she worked throughout the day. Her customer's schedules went as follows:

Lillian Price would come in most early afternoons. Even worse than Lillian Price was Ash, who often visiting her in the dead parts of her shift around two or three in the afternoon, as to only be able to pay attention to whatever schtick he was pulling. Sometimes Braco would visit at night with some study buddies, but he always made side glances and blush when she noticed. And this wasn't including the other needy customers that would come in demanding a regular when she had never seen the before.

To see them get so upset about it was amusing in its own way though.

So Lillian popped in like she had, demanding the most complicated order possible-as always. Because why wouldn't she? Then some friends had joined up with her not 2 seconds later screaming obnoxiously as if they hadn't just seen each other earlier that day.

Not to add the PDA she and Brad immediately displayed after he had clocked out. And yes, he was still in his uniform. Very professional as always.

Today though, she wasn't there for Brad. She was showing off her "boy-toy" as she called him, basically to get a rise out of Brad. Though, Brad was apparently used to this sort of behavior from her and chose to ignore her as best as he could.

From her knowledge, her relationship with bad was rocky at best. Which made sense with how emotionally unstable Lillian was. There would be times she'd be interrupted from her homework hyper-fixations with one of Lillian's famous screaming matches.

Then again, there seemingly was no other person suitable to handle her amount of crazy.

Outside of the usual Lillian nonsense, something else had caught Bonnibel's eye over the course of the week. Something drastically changing in Ash's life that hadn't seen prior.

Usually, he was quite the conversationalist, always asking questions even when Bonnibel was obviously uncomfortable with carrying on conversations with him at all. He was always curious. Too curious if you asked her.

You would think that an unloaded gun being fired into your chest would be the perfect warning to stay away from said person or anyone affiliated with them. Apparently Ash was someone who would never learn his lessons, even if it meant being harmed. In the one instance she brought this up to him, he had stated something around the lines of, "Marceline is full of empty threats."

However, as the shift changed and the usual two o'clock mark passed, Ash strolled in-this time with a girl around his arm. Unusual for him to bring a girl with him, or anyone for that matter-considering not long ago he had begged for Marceline to come back, but she wasn't against it.

Thankfully, that day he didn't carry on much of a conversation, instead wooing a girl that she had never seen around. Not that she knew many people in such a large town.

When he came in the following Thursday he wore a solemn expression throughout his visit, the girl was not with him then.

"Things just didn't work out, I guess." He said. "Her loss, right?" But even he didn't look convinced.

It was halfway into her shift on Monday when she noticed this commonly sighted character stumble into the coffee shop doors.

Today he strolled in looking more unsightly than usual. His hair was disheveled and looked as though he was still wearing the same outfit from his last visit. He even allowed stubble on his normally clean-shaven face.

He almost looked as if he didn't know why he was even there to begin with.

Although she wasn't a fan of Ash, and could even be quoted to say she loathed his existence at times, she couldn't ignore the obvious mess that had become of him. "Hey...are you doing alright?"

His head snapped to her location behind the counter, eyes wide as if he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He hadn't relaxed when realizing who he was talking to. "Oh right, you're working today, huh?"

That reply almost shocked her. It had seemed he only came there for the sole purpose of talking to her. No, that was definitely the reason he would ever speak to her.

He fumbled with the wallet in his pocket. "What do I owe you?"

"Um...you haven't ordered yet."

He glanced upward, confused. Then he looked around the counter, then up at the ceiling and back to her. "Is Jake here?"

"No, it's just Brad and I today."

"Do you make pastries too?" The conversation felt flat as he stared off at some point over her shoulder.

"Why don't I get you a coffee? That should wake you up."

"I'm more than awake." He chuckled lowly. "I assure you, Bonnibel." Something in his voice seemed harsh and angry when saying her name. "Actually, Bonnibel..." He trailed off and closed his wallet. "I have a project that I've been focusing on all week. So I would really appreciate that coffee so I can get back to that. Thank you."

As curious as she was, she didn't want to know what that important thing must be. If it kept him up and made him as hectic and out of place as he was, she didn't want to affiliate with it.

Sliding over the latte she made, he commented, "You know, you always make the best coffee. That must be why..." He trailed off again, staring into that white ceramic cup deep in thought.

"Why what?"

"Nevermind..." Was his melancholy reply. "Thanks again for the coffee. See you later."

He slumped out the door and walked down the street. She felt as if she should have pressed harder on what was going through his mind, though she knew she wouldn't be much help in whatever situation he was in.

She didn't worry about him not paying. She just hoped it would all work out.


Everything by that point had become muscle memory. Closings included: wiping off the counters, sweeping, cleaning and stacking chairs, counting the register, etc. However, even though Jake was usually doing something completely separate in the back, she couldn't help but notice how quiet it all seemed without him here.

Even from the back, she would often hear him grumbling to himself, experimenting with new recipes, clumsily fumbling over himself; over-something.

She couldn't quite recall why he had taken the night off. The extra work and responsibilities weren't an issue. She was perfectly capable of handling most everything without a hitch. It just felt so empty, even with Brad helping.

Well, actually he was mostly on his phone texting or scrolling through social media to help, even with her requests for it.

If she was being honest, she wanted to call up Marceline and have her entertain her while she counted the register and finished up the rest of their duties. That probably wasn't a good idea. However, it just made it all the more tempting.

Fighting the urge, Bonnie decided against it and cleaned as quickly as she could so that she could rush home, making sure the front door was locked and the lights were turned off before she exited out the back.

The night was filled with the sounds of cars passing on nearby streets and the cicadas deafening symphony.

When the clock struck ten, she didn't hesitate to lock the back door behind her, smiling at the thought of going home. The nights always played out the same: Bonnie would begin working on her homework. Not thirty minutes later Marceline would distract her in some kind of way. She knew to expect this and would give up and get up a little earlier in the morning. Marceline never woke up early unless it was completely necessary.

Brad waved goodbye and headed in the opposite direction toward the street. For Bonnie, she would walk down the alley, as a shortcut to her house.

However, when she turned to walk home she was met with a familiar face a few feet away from the back door where she stood. The familiar figure was trembling, hood covering their features.

She didn't know how long they had been standing there, just staring at her, waiting for her to notice.

The person sighed, defeatedly. "You know...I've been thinking about this for a while now." The walls around her echoed the footsteps as the figure's soles scraped the concrete when trudging over toward her. Though there wasn't much lighting in this back alleyway, there was no mistaking the sharp object they gripped in their right hand. "I think...I figured it out."

"Put down the knife."

They made eye contact and she noted how the whites of his eyes were almost illuminating in the dark empty alleyway. "If you're gone, then I can have her all to myself."

He's beyond reason...

She instinctively took a step to the side and grabbed his arm as he attempted to thrust the knife into her abdomen. Managing to twist his wrist uncomfortably enough to make him drop his weapon, she threw an elbow into his face to knock him off balance.

Not many people knew this, but she had taken a handful of self-defense classes during her high school years. In every one of them, they told her never to hesitate. To run. She would stick to that plan, move far away from the dark alleyway and call the cops.

When she went to push him back and make her move to run, he grabbed her throat with his free hand.

Regardless of having a weapon or not, he wouldn't give her a moment to think. He dug his fingers in and gripped her throat as hard as he could and maneuvered his way out of her grip.

A squeak of shock rung out against the brick buildings as he landed a punch into her upper stomach. He roughly clutched his now free hand over her mouth. Her fight or flight instincts started to kick in. And there was no way in hell she would freeze in a moment like this.

No hesitation.

She kicked her knee upward into his crotch as hard as she could. He yelped, but his grip was so strong that she ended up stumbling underneath him while he both reacted in pain and anger. His hold was sturdy and she could hardly move, no matter how much she grasped at any opportunity to escape.

"You bitch, I'll kill you!"

In these situations, you had to do anything to escape as unscathed as possible. Meaning biting, scratching, making them bleed back.

All she knew to do was struggle, and during this struggle, she managed to bite the hand clasped over her mouth. But the pain that should have registered, didn't. Even with tasting his blood in her mouth, he pushed to keep her muffled.

Ash only dug his fingers deeper into her face and tried to force her body onto the ground for further advantage. Bonnie was barely able to maintain their current positions.

If he managed to be completely above her, there was very little she could do to escape, if anything at all.

He may have been lanky, but he was putting all of his strength into this fight because he had nothing to lose. "Just give up already. There's no point, so just listen with the seconds you have left."

But she wouldn't stop fighting, not even for a second.

A sick and twisted smile splayed across his cracked lips and slowly closing in the distance between them. "Listen here," He rasped. "She's mine. You are nothing-a placeholder. You are a projection of me."

Only then did she recognize what was wrong with him. He wasn't mentally insane. He was in a drug-induced psychosis. She wasn't sure what from, but that something was causing him to believe the bullshit he was spewing. And he had talked himself up to this, meaning his addiction kicked into full force.

He had relapsed in the most violent way possible.

"She missed me so much she felt as though someone had to be there. But you've tainted her. I know you have. We're going to get married and I can't let you get away with your sins. For her to be clean, I have to sacrifice you."

Although she wanted to speak, he continued to muzzle her. It wasn't like he wanted to hear what he had to say or even register it for that matter.

In one swoop of anger, he knocked her onto the ground and she was unable to catch her fall. The back of her head slammed into the hard concrete. Fuzz. That's all she felt. Like tv static. Then a blur she was only able to recognize as pain.

Oh God did it hurt.

Through the haze, there was more pain. Somewhere...somewhere that wasn't her head. What was wrong? What hurt?

Then, in a flash between the conscious and unconscious, she saw him above her with his foot crushing her wrist. The pain she felt...whatever had happened in the fuzz, was her bones being crushed by his brute force. What had he done? What would happen to her?

Only then did her scream escape. And his sick smile eroded onto his features.

"And what a sad excuse of a placeholder you were." He continued, taking his foot off her to instead crouch down to her level. Close enough to smell his breath. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea. She knew the risks and consequences-especially with the obvious concussion she had, but she did it anyway.

"My perfect Marceline-" She head-butted him right in the nose.

Fuck, she thought, feeling another wave of fuzz.

Somehow, by the grace of whatever higher entity, she managed to slip out from under him for a mere moment, stumbling. The fuzz was debilitating. She could hear him howling and cursing behind her. If she did it right, she could assume that she broke his nose. No time to turn back and check.

Headbutting him rendered her speechless and exhausted. If it weren't for the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she would have collapsed by now. The only thought she had was: Get into the light. Out in the open.

Screaming. That's what she heard behind her. Obscenities being screeched into the early night.

Stumbling out onto the street-lit corner, her legs gave out. Another wave of static pushed throughout her body. It yearned to allow itself to drop. Run, idiot. Pushing herself up, she ran across the street to get away from him.

With how much ruckus was stirred the neighboring stores and restaurants should have heard. Anyone who passed on the streets would be able to hear him as he wailed. Well, now it almost sounded as though he was gagging in the mix of his pain.

She couldn't remember if she had called 911 or if someone came to her rescue. She had gone beyond her pain threshold and the adrenaline in her system became depleted. Somewhere in the midst of running, she collapsed.


Voices...she knew she could hear an unfamiliar voice in the background. Though, the grogginess was enveloping her whole body-more so-she couldn't register what she was feeling. There was no thought process. Just a heavy breath heaving out of her lungs when she struggled to open her eyes.

Even from her closed eyelids, she could tell how bright the room was.

"Hey, whoa. Hun, don't move."

The words didn't register either. She needed to wake up and move.

"Er-gah..." Bonnie grumbled before drawing in an exaggerated breath. As the blurriness in her vision began to fade, her focus landed on a face she had yet to meet. A nurse who was huddled over her and the room was moving. Moving so fast.

"Hun, you have to stop moving. You're gonna rip the IV out."

"I...IV...?"

"Relax for me. What's your name, sweetie?"

"My hand hurts..." Was the only reply she could let out.

"I know, sweetie. I know."

"The guy...Ash-"

"Don't move, okay?"

"Marceline...it hurts."

Her body wore itself out again, the pain sending her unconscious again.


Review Time!

Dearest Guest: I'm glad you like the style. I try my best not to submit anything unless I'm satisfied with it.

eserpapereira: Although I love me some All Time Low, I didn't originally intend to reference under a paper moon.

HungryBanana: Good catch! I did change some things, as I started this many a year ago when I first started college. Now here I am nearing my last semester. I learned a lot about college life and thought to change it to be more "realistic". I'm so glad I'm able to share my love for bubbline. It'll give me a lot of joy to continue and complete this work. (Also please do not fret, I won't be leaving you on this cliff hanger for too long. The chapter after this is already written)