Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Brad's Survival Arc: Part 5

The house hadn't changed since he last resided within its confining walls. 

The Cullen estate was supposed to give off a sense of unperturbed openness for those who lived within it; as shown via multiple spacious levels, floor to ceiling windows, large rooms filled with personal touches and decorative styles. It was supposed to be a safe haven for a family who constantly had to remain guarded when standing in the public eye. Their worries left them as soon as they walked through the door; and stresses of everyday life morphed into blissful relief.

For Marshall, however...that was never the case.

He was never afforded the luxury of breaking down his walls around those who were supposed to care for him—because his problems started with those claiming the title of "family".

Peering into the old loft from the street down below didn't fill him with a sense of nostalgia. Neither did familiar voices laughing together from one of several family rooms. Instead, he was bombarded by a tornado of memories whose chaotic winds stripped away a feeling of safety.

Even now, grievances from decades past revealed their hideous faces. His hands clenched into tight, trembling fists.

Marshall didn't dare to move.

Not when he could hear all of those horrible, horrible declarations screeching at him in his head: how he was flawed, broken, and unlovable; how he needed to be tweaked in order for anyone to give him the time of day; how his opinions never mattered, unless they were capable of solving issues; how his sole responsibility was to give, regardless of whether or not his unsteady hands had already been emptied and there was nothing left of him to sacrifice.

Marshall had been to the Cullen house plenty of times since he moved out.

However, it was his newest goal to make himself happy which made this visit so difficult.

Because, even though he honestly didn't love any of the people inside anymore, their lives left a stain on his soul. All of their words, gestures, and tiny moments—all of their interactions since Marshall became a vampire couldn't be so easily forgotten. He knew a small part of himself still cared since the need to do so had been shoved down his throat until he digested it without pushback.

Such instinctual habits wouldn't die easily.

For himself, though, in order to continue thriving in a healthy manner, Marshall had to let them go.

He needed to.

The first step in doing so was right in front of him, waiting.

A stiff swallow forced down an unexpected desire to scream.

Marshall held back a flinch when warm hands settled on his shoulders, and a gentle kiss was pressed against the skin of his neck. "Are you having second thoughts, my love?"

"Never. Really, it's nothing of that magnitude. It's just..." He took in a deep, wavered breath. "It's not easy being here. Remembering things. I just want to leave."

A temperature akin to his own wrapped around his wrist, fingers offering soft rubs against the back of his hand. "The quicker we do this, the quicker we can go back home, hermano. And then you'll never have to deal with this, or them, ever again. We'll take care of you. You just have to trust us and remember your decision is really for the best. That, more than anything, this is for you. Your life. Your future."

Marshall closed his eyes to gather himself. When he reopened them, an appearance of timidity dissolved into one of confidence. He straightened his posture, rolled the tension out of his shoulders, and allowed his strong grip to relax.