Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Deleted: Marshall vs. Red Eyes - The Aftermath

A/N: Hey, everybody - so sorry for another late chapter. If you didn't see my announcement last week, over the course of the last three weeks, I've been extremely sick (very stubborn chest cold) and ended up being hospitalized for a kidney stone. I'm feeling much better now even if I'm not completely 100% there in terms of my health. Because of that, though, this chapter will be a bit shorter than normal. Just wanted to keep you guys updated!

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Trigger Warning: accidental self harm, brief mention of suicide

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Note: This deleted scene happens in between "Instinctual Development" and "Bad Timing". It follows Marshall as he comes to after being bitten by Red Eyes and is forced to ride out the debilitating effects of her potent venom.

I've thought about this a lot since "Instinctual Development" came out—like, the mental, physical, and emotional hurdles Marshall would have to get through after having to (pretty much) relive what it's like to be turned. How, as someone who depends on having control, Marshall would feel while having to remain helpless in an unstoppable agony he physically can't suppress.

This might read a bit like a character study, so it's going to be rather brutal. Viewer discretion is advised.

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"Going from human to vampire- that's a type of pain I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy."

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Before falling unconscious, Marshall thought the horrible burn radiating through his upper body was at its peak. Since a ferocious sting remained constant when moving from his bicep outward, he figured the pain itself wouldn't change in any degree. It would make a temporary home in his body, yes, but his discomfort wouldn't escalate further. If anything, the sensation would be more a nuisance than something to worry about.

At least, that's what he'd hoped.

Upon slipping back into the world in a hazy fog, however, with Red Eyes' venom having forged a path through Marshall's entire system—crawling and worming its way into the tiniest of nooks and crannies within him— he couldn't help but wonder.

Was this what death felt like?

Was this how he felt without the coverage of fractured memories blanketing him from harsh clarity after being bitten for the very first time all those years ago?

If so, a dark part of Marshall was thankful he was too out of it to fully grasp his situation.

Granted, his body was facing enough torment to force guttural moans and shallow breaths out of him. But he knew his shock-induced mental fog was helping to blind him to a certain extent. Not enough to be of substantial aid; just enough to keep him from passing out again.

Still, it was this metaphorical curtain of murkiness draped over him which kept Marshall from being able to clearly perceive his surroundings.

He didn't know where he was or who he was with. He figured he was in someone's house since the prickly, scratchiness of grass blades rubbing along his skin was no longer present. Instead, the feeling had been swapped for something soft and warm. Something with a strong fragrance of dog, and slightly of apples, attached to it. 

The scent actually reminded Marshall of a domestic warmth. An aroma he could tie a blurred perception of comfort to.

Unfortunately, he couldn't focus on those details.