Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Alternative: How the Pack Originally Found Out About Marshall's Assault

Trigger Warning: mentions of/flashbacks pertaining to past sexual assault, graphic violence brought upon by a PTSD attack, a violent panic attack

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Chapter Themes: 

RIP 2 My Youth by The Neighbourhood

Chronos covered by Ike Eveland

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Note: While this is another chapter I've really wanted to post because of how impactful and important it is, the process of actually writing it was difficult, to say the least. You guys already know how much I care about Marshall. His character growth is something I really cherish, so going back to the times where he was legitimately struggling with his fears, emotions, past, etc.—it really gets to me sometimes.

This chapter is going to be pretty up there in terms of serious/heavy themes. It's probably going to be more gruesome than "A Frightening Display" because I actually cut out a lot when writing the part seen in the final draft. There, Marshall only really got into his assault, why his panic attack was triggered, and why Paul was so upset about the entire ordeal. This chapter is going to focus on a lot of that, on top of Marshall's personal feelings about himself in regard to his assault. I won't paint a super vivid picture about what happened to him the night he died, but there will be more exposition given on Marshall's past than there was in the initial part. Viewer discretion is advised.

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Marshall had a bad feeling.

Although he was snuggled against his boyfriend with soothing passes being made through his hair, it was difficult for the vampire to relax completely. No matter how warm and content he felt; no matter how safe he felt in the arms of an adorable cuddle bug like Paul...there was no way to nullify a growing sense of unease. 

The troublesome revelation came about because of Leah's current physical state.

It wasn't like her to walk into the Uley house without saying a word. Normally, she'd announce her presence by throwing some sort of insult at Marshall. She was quick to pick a fight in an attempt to get a rise out of him; seemingly for her own sadistic joy. And if there was the extremely rare occasion where Leah didn't pick a fight with him, she was prone to sitting at the table with the guys to hang out before leaving for patrol.

Seeing her with eyes downcast, a blank facial expression, and hands folded over her chest as she leaned against the door frame—it was honestly pretty creepy.

Silent, docile Leah could only mean two things: 1) she was tired and didn't have the energy to speak to anyone, or 2) she was angry beyond words.

Marshall really hoped the first guess was the right one.

He knew it wasn't, though, when eyes full of fury made contact with his own.

"Marsh, how long are you planning on staying? I've had a pretty shit day so far, and being forced to look at your hideous face is making me want to vomit."

And here they were again with yet another argument Marshall didn't want to get into.

Great.

"You know, I'd really just, like, rather not," he answered with a nonchalant tone. "Unlike you, the rest of us have been having a pretty good, peaceful afternoon; and I'm sure we'd all like to keep it that way. But by all means, if you're keen on ruining everyone else's mood out of childish pettiness, well, you're practically out of the door already. May as well commit to it."