Marley

Amazingly, when I walk away from Harry, I feel… better.

In these past few weeks since the incident, I’ve been feeling anything but good, anything but happy. I’ve felt crushed, beaten down, and I’ve been so conflicted lately I don’t even know how I should feel about it.

Harry isn’t at all the way I thought someone famous would be like. He seems to… understand. He seems to be able to look past the surface and really dig deeper, to understand life from a different perspective.

When I get out to the parking lot again, I consider the prospect of just going back to work again. Checking my watch, I realize that I’ve far overstepped my break, but something tells me that Ben and Clarissa will understand if I call them later.

I steer away from my car, deciding to take a walk in the park a couple blocks over from Leatherbound. Somehow, I’m in a genuinely good mood, one that I don’t think any amount of glares can spoil.

When I reach the park, I tug my coat closer to my body and adjust my scarf. The sky is still grey and cloudy, but for me, it’s overcast in a wonderful sort of way. The smell of rain is fresh and calming, causing me to inhale deeply as I walk.

I suppose that I’ve always known I can’t hide inside forever, only coming out to work, yet still avoiding the customers. It’s just been easier to conceal myself from the world, praying that everything will blow over soon enough, grieving for the loss of a friend, and suffering through the guilt.

No, I guess I’ve just never had the courage. But now that Harry’s come along, someone who sees me as something besides a selfish killer, I’ve gotten the confidence to just get up and go.

“And that’s exactly what they told me,” a deep voice with a thick London accent says, followed by a high-pitched giggle. “Funny story, eh?”

I look up to see a group of about five people of mixed gender, walking in my direction. They appear to be a bit younger than myself, seventeen or eighteen. The three males of the group have dark sweatshirts on with the hoods up, the girls dressed in tight jeans and cute little jackets that don’t really suit the weather.

I wouldn’t pay them any more mind, if it isn’t for the fact that they stop walking right in front of me, all staring with mixed emotions on their faces.

“Isn’t that the girl from the papers?” Another one of the males question in a low voice. “The one who killed her friend or something?”

My throat swells and tightens suddenly as I stand frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say.
I finally work up the courage to move off the sidewalk and just walk around them when one
shouts, “Oi! Stop! We just want to talk to you!”

I know I should just keep moving with my head down, stay away from them, but my legs stop working, and before I know it I’m turned to face them again.

“What kind of person just lets their friend die?” One of the girls pipes up without another thought.

The other girl and guy- who both still remain silent up to this point- shoot her a look that’s almost a glare, but still say nothing
.
“She’s talking to you,” the first guy points out, as if I’m the one being rude and obnoxious; as if I’m the one that should be apologizing.

Well I should be. Just not to them.

“I didn’t… mean to,” I say coolly, but even I can hear the slight tremor in my voice towards the end. They know I’m uncertain of myself, they know I’m still weak. And they know weak people are easy targets.

“How do you not ‘mean to’?” The second guy questions. “You either do or you don’t.”

The three who have been speaking are beginning to look irritated, angry even. They look as if I’m the one that killed their friend, as if I even meant to at all. Meanwhile, the other boy and girl don’t look pleased at all, but more with their friends than with me.

“C’mon mate, leave her alone,” the previously silent male says, tugging lightly at his friend’s arm, who only rips it quickly away.

“There’s no point…” The girl tries to say with him, but they both go ignored.

“I think you’re just a dumb bitch who doesn’t even have a conscience,” one of the two more aggravating males say, taking a step forward. “You let your friend die for nothing, you watched her die. And I say that deserves some sort of punishment, not the ability to keep walking about free on the streets.”

Before I know it, wet tears are pricking at my eyes and I find myself running, flying even. As I run, I hear laughter, and other voices that sound more angry than anything.

“You’re such an arse Tony.”

“What? She had it coming, haven’t you read the papers at all you twat?”

I stop listening but continue to run, the teenagers’ words echoing in my ears like a haunting, ghostly reminder.

“The one who killed her friend or something?”

“What kind of person just lets their friend die?”

“I think you’re just a dumb bitch…”

I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to…

I chant the words in my head over and over again, fearing what will happen if I don’t.

The thing is, when you continually hear something said about you over and over again, when you’re told something about yourself, whether it’s true or not… you’ll start to believe it.

And I’m scared to reach that point. I know I killed her, I know she’s dead because of me, but all the hateful things people say to me now, they’re like needles embedding themselves into my skin, injecting me with poisonous thoughts.

I shouldn’t have tried to go out right after meeting Harry. Going to Leatherbound was too much of a stretch already; the confidence became deadly and pushed me further than it should have.
God, I’m stupid.

I’m running so fast now I’m not entirely sure where I’m going, so I compose myself long enough to figure out where I am and turn in the direction of home.

Though I don’t allow my feet to stop moving, I slow a few minutes later to a quick walk when I reach the block where my small flat is located.

Upon entering through the front door, I find the building seeming a bit colder than usual, or maybe it’s just me. Even after the past few weeks, I haven’t quite gotten the place back to normal.

My old flat mate, Mona, had decided to move out two days after the incident and my face spammed the tabloids. She had said that she was sincerely sorry, but she couldn’t handle all the reporters swarming around and all the public attention she was getting, just from living with me.

So that was it, and after two more days, she was gone.

As pathetic as I’m sure it sounds, I understand. If I was her, I wouldn’t want to be associated with me, heck, I don’t even want to be associated with me now. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to be unassociated with yourself but… I can always dream, right?

“Hey there Travis,” I smile faintly, wiping away tears as I hear the gentle click of nails against the hardwood floor.

As if it really matters whether my dog sees me cry or not, I can’t help but turn away and finish wiping away the salty liquid before turning back to see Travis staring up at me with large brown eyes.

“Puffball,” I tease, bending down to pet him lovingly, stroking my fingers through his tan fur. I’ve always liked to call him puffball as a nickname, just because of his extremely fluffy fur, that makes him look two times his actual size. The five years that he’s been with me, he’s always stayed no matter what, even if everybody else decides to go... and even though he may be “just a dog”, I love him for it.

Travis whimpers softly and nuzzles against my hand, seeming to sense that I’m upset, no matter how I try to hide it.

“Don’t worry boy,” I sigh, rising to head to the kitchen, hearing the familiar click of Travis’ feet following me.

“Everything’s fine. I’m home and- Crap.“

I stop and bury my face in my hands, realizing that I left my car just sitting in the Leatherbound parking lot. Cursing myself for not thinking it through more, I sigh and look down at Travis again. “Okay, I’ll get it in the morning,” I sigh. “No one would think of towing it, right?”

Travis only cocks his head to the side slightly, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. Though I have no idea if that is equivalent to any type of logical response or if it’s just him hoping I’ll feed him soon, I take it as confirmation

“Here,” I sigh, scooping some dry dog food from a bin into Travis’ bowl, ruffling his fur once more as he stoops to eat. Though it may be a bit sad to really have my dog as my only friend these days, I suppose I don’t really need anyone else. It’s not so terrible; after all, he never talks back to me or puts me down. That’s an advantage, right?

I browse through my pantries and fridge for a bit, trying to figure out what I have to eat that sounds appealing, before finally settling on a bowl of cereal. Though not the best meal for dinner, I find myself not even being all that hungry.

Besides Harry, this afternoon’s events have admittedly put me off a bit.

“Want to watch television Travis?” I call as I sit down on the couch, and again I hear the trot of him moving from the kitchen to the living room, before jumping up beside me and settling down.

“Doctor Who,” I frown slightly, flipping to the channel on the guide. “That’s a good show, right? Amy always told me she loved that show. Said one of the characters in it looked just like her…”
I trail off as the show begins, though I’m not really paying attention. Admittedly, it hurts like hell to think of Amy. I don’t even know how I can attempt to watch a show with a character like her in it, how I can without feeling the guilt eating away at my stomach.

Though it takes only a few minutes to show up and chase my appetite away again, I find myself staring blankly at the screen, stroking Travis behind the ears.

It’s not long before a redheaded girl pops up on the screen, seemingly in a completely white room. She wanders around for a bit, and when she finally opens her mouth to speak, I hear Amy’s voice come out rather than hers. The Amy I know... or knew.

She was right after all. This Amy does look a lot like her, and she seems like one of those people that would be just as happy too. Just as bubbly and exciting and full of life.

It’s too bad I didn’t get around to figuring that out before. My phone suddenly goes off with a loud ding, causing Travis to bark a couple times and me to jump.

Frowning slightly, I shift so I can pull the object out of my back pocket, pressing a random button to see the screen properly.

‘1 New Message’

I open the text and scan over the number first, seeing that it curiously reads as ‘unknown’. My eyes then travel lower to the actual message, which says:

‘I have a feeling that you could use someone to talk to.’

Well that’s mysterious. Startlingly accurate, but not any less mysterious. Though I’m cautious, I hesitantly begin to type in a response, now completely ignoring the motion on the television in
front of me.

‘How did you know? Who is this?’

After hitting the ‘send’ button, the reply is almost instantaneous, causing me to jump again from the sudden noise.

‘The handsome lad from the bookstore of course. x’ It reads. ‘I kid, I kid. And well… because we’re not really as different as you may think. I always find myself looking for someone to talk to who will understand. Don’t you?’

“The handsome lad from the bookstore.” I can’t help but smile slightly at that, now instantly knowing that it’s Harry.

Letting out an almost nervous huff of breath, fingers hovering over the screen, I finally text back, ‘I suppose I do. It’s funny, I haven’t even known you for a day and you already seem to know me better than most people.’

‘That’s because I like to think I’m not like most people,’ he answers quickly again. ‘I like to think that even with all the brilliant minds in the world, I’m not just ordinary. I still have a unique story to tell. So do you, you know.’

“He’s different, isn’t he?” I say to Travis, glancing over at my furry friend. He only wags his tail at me and allows his mouth to flop open again, which I like to take as a good sign.

‘I suppose I do,’ I say again. ‘I suppose you’re not just ordinary. You’re extra-ordinary, I can guarantee you that.’

And when I say it, I do mean it. Harry is beyond ordinary; he’s much more complex and interesting than I ever thought someone in his position could be. And I have to admit, I like it.

Though I’m uncertain about the meaning of it, his next text admittedly brings a small smile to my face. ‘So are you Marley. Don’t worry, you’ll figure out why soon enough.’

Notes

My grandma just woke me up from showering in my ensuite, like its 6:48am and my younger sister has a bathroom in the hallway and there's a full bathroom right next door to the guest room we have her staying in, in the basement. Why are my grandparents like this? Theyre gonna kill me one day :0