The last time I drank, I must have done some awful things. The repercussions were painted on three people's faces, and I hated that I couldn't remember what I had done wrong. To be entirely honest, I still didn't fully understand. I remember that last time I had gotten drunk - back at the CDC - it was just because I could. The moment was opportune and I took it.

This time, it was all that had happened. All I had done.

Wouldn't you just like to not remember everything, even if it was for a few moments? Even if when you came around again, the headache would be almost unreal and your stomach would burn.

So when I saw Hershel getting into a car, with no one else around in sight, I asked what he was doing.

"Going for a drink," he said simply, the tone of his voice was dull and flat and much less kind than when we had first met him.

Without thinking about it fully, I asked if I could join him and he didn't seem to think fully either when he nodded, yes. Hershel drove us away from the farm, away from prying eyes and curious ears so that spirits could spill truth onto our tongues and blur our eyes away from the horrors of every day. The liquid gave me a false sense of comfort. It's what I would imagine being hugged by a ghost would feel like.

So there we sat, on opposite sides of the bar, amongst broken glass and clouded mason jars, contemplating living whilst we were slowly killing our livers and brains. Hershel had opted to slowly drink his second glass of-- whatever the hell it was. Whilst I had already downed six shots of something else. It tasted horrible, the kind that made you cry out in discomfort as it felt like cleaning substance was being forced down your throat.

I was already feeling the effects, as I ran my finger across the wet lip of the almost empty bottle.

Hershel was silent, and I could already see the tears brimming his eyes.

"I thought that drink made you happy?" I slurred, my head lolling to the side and dropping to lay on my arms in front of me. My eyes hurt and so I shielded them from the lights that peeked through the shutters on the windows.

"Only the lucky ones get to be happy," he rasped, the drink making his voice more scratchy.

"That's sad, Hershey." I looked to him and he wasn't smiling. I giggled at the name I had given him. "Hershey. Hershey bar. Hershey in a bar. Hershey chocolate bar in a bar."

He didn't answer me. I don't blame him. Who would answer a rambling twenty-year-old girl, who had no advice to give him, only anecdotes.

"You seem happy?" he said, consuming more of his drink.

I frowned in confusion, shaking my head even if it felt like marbles were rattling inside of my head. "I don't know really." I filled my shot glass up again. "Maybe I should drink a little more."

Neither of us said stuff for a while before my mind got curious.

"Who di-i-i-id you lovey in the barn," I whispered, my chapped lips grazing the lip of my glass. I had bitten into it hard, resulting with alcohol burning the wound, stinging, and adding to the cloud floating over my head. "Imeanwehadsophia."

Hershel let out a long huff before speaking. "My wife and stepson."

"I love wives," I blurted out, without a filter. "Wives are grrreat. I would love one."

The old man chuckled at my state, seemingly being brought out if his disparity for a second before descending back into it. He lifted the bottle to add more sour poison, to his already empty glass.

My mind took a moment to scrape the barrel of memories I was slowly forgetting as I drank more. "I had a child once," I breathed, my forehead creasing in mourning. It was the truth. "Tech-kkk-nilly, I never haaad the baby but -- yaknow."

I shrugged my shoulders, and even though I wasn't sober, I watched Hershel's reaction and he was slowly becoming curious.

"What happened?" He was now beginning, finally, to sound drunk. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty. Two-Oh-- no wait... Yeah," I rubbed my eyes furiously. "And, it happened a while ago."

"It was not... Pretty," I winced at the subject. My voice didn't shake with my next words. "It was one of the worst experienced of my life." I looked up and saw that face. That face everyone always gives you when you give them an excuse to pity you.

It was universal, everyone made the same expression and I had seen it around a million times. My whole entire existence was a pity party, mixed with devastation and intoxicating sin. Being dragged behind me was the bodies of those who had risked their life by knowing me. Pity is cruel. Pity destroys you. I definitely didn't need it.

I decided to not lash out, but instead focus on something else. That something else being a stray hat to my left. It looked extremely weird to me, and my mind was playing tricks. My mouth formed words before I thought about it. "What you looking at, Donald Duck?"

Hershel snorted, his drink spilling over his chin. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, in turn making my own drink spill on me and down my chest, soaking my shirt and staining it with the smell. My limp wrists carried my fingers to try and wipe it away.

"Oh... blish!"

"Blish?"

"I can't swear-- he doesn't like that," I leaned forward and whispered, bringing a finger to my lips. "He wouldn't like you." I started to bite at the skin around my nails.

Hershel closed his eyes for a moment, before asking, "Who?"

I looked to my left and right, making sure he wasn't there. I was pretty sure he wasn't there. I was pretty sure he wasn't there. I didn't want him to be there. I didn't want him to be there.

I brought Hershel closer, slightly tugging on his sleeve. In the process, a mason jar fell onto the ground and smashed, and I felt the shards bounce up against my ankles. I didn't do anything to stop it. Instead I let it cut at my exposed skin. It wasn't major, but the alcohol dulled my senses to an extent to which I didn't care.

"His name is Jimmy Blake," I said, as quietly as I could in case calling out his name would somehow conjure him from the shadows. "And he was that poor baby's father."

That curious look in his eyes appeared again.

"He took, and took, and took what he wanted from me and I let him do it because I wanted him to."

I swallowed heavily, sitting back in my stool and realising the old man.

"I wanted to feel a different kind of pain. Something other than excruciating so I let him do whatever he wanted."

"He was the puppeteer, and I was the puppet." I lifted my wrists into the air, imitating that of a marinate doll. "Marley, dear, don't leave your apartment for two fucking weeks." I made my voice low and deep, gravelly even - to mock my dead ex-boyfriend. "Eat this. Wear this. Medicine cost money, so go through your fucking withdrawal by yourself."

I stood up from my stool abruptly, causing it to topple to the ground and crash against my achilles. In frustration, I kicked it away as I hissed painfully. I took my slightly bleeding lips between my teeth.

"Stay in the car! Stay in the car! Stay in the car! Stay in the car! Stay in the car!" I screeched at the top of my lungs, scratching them raw and almost making my lungs bleed.

Surprisingly, Hershel was still sitting there, looking completely indifferent to what was going on around him. Like I wasn't even there. But finally he spoke, his voice wavering drunkenly. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Swinging my arm, I caught the nearly empty bottle of my drink and swung it to the wall. The glass bottle passed a few rows of chairs, before meeting the shelves and sending ripple of shattering sounds across the room. Bouncing off the picture frames, the tables and pillars. Amongst those noises, I covered my ears for a moment. The sound was painful to my eardrums.

"Careful there," another voice sounded. A voice that disagreed with my stomach and heart. It almost made me want to vomit. "Don't wanna scratch that pretty face of yours."

The man in the suit had planted himself on one of the bar stools. Except, this time, it was different. His suit wasn't dusty, and his hair wasn't tangled with congealed blood. He didn't have a bullet hole, and his eyes were not dark.

He looked alive.

"Hershel, do you see him?" I asked hastily. The elder turned in his seat to where I was looking, then back to his drink.

"Nope."

I sighed in frustration, bringing a hand to my hair. Tears started to well up in my eyes, making them itch and burn painfully.

Maybe if I stabbed them out, it would give me more peace.

I took steps towards him, and he looked me up and down, analysing the way I walked, the way I looked at him. It was like he had somehow cracked open my skull, and all my thoughts were spilled out in front of him.

My ankles gave way at some point, the alcohol still very much coursing through my veins.

In time I caught myself, my nails almost bending as I gripped the bar. I groaned as I pulled myself forward, sitting behind the bar and in front of Jimmy.

His eyes were not dark. They were like caramel, and they looked so much younger.

"You're looking at my eyes."

With that, I looked down, to my knitted fingers. They had blood on them, it surrounding deep cuts and red grazes.

His own crept forward, hovering over my knuckles.

"You want the pain to go away," he leaned in and whispered. His nose brushed against my cheek, creating goosebumps there. "The excruciating kind."

I didn't say a word as he took a lock of my hair and twisted it between the pads if his fingers.

"But I haven't lost anyone," I whispered.

"This isn't from losing someone this is from coming to terms with the monster you are."

He pecked my cheek, momentarily, and I let him do it. "Will I always be in pain?" I asked warily, licking my lips and looking to his eyes once again. "I don't wanna live if I'm in pain like this."

He reeled back into his chair, trailing a finger around the edge of the glass, creating a soft humming sound.

"Unfortunately, Marley, being a monster isn't ever pleasant unless you aren't aware."

"Monsters like us... it's the sad truth of the world but us monsters belong on the earth. We are the personification of 'regression to the mean'. We can't be all good, and we can't be all bad."

He lifted his wrist from the bar, checking his watch on his wrist. It was broken but he seemed to be able to read it.

"I'll have to be going soon," he let out a heavy sigh, downing the sliver of drink at the bottom of his glass. He coughed, twisting his cuffs the right way.

"But I must tell you this, Marley, the way us monsters live is fallible. It isn't wrong. We bring balance."

"Whatever love we feel, as perverse or fake as it may be, even when we hurt the ones we love, it is real."

"It's a sad truth of how everyone lives, but love can come in many forms, even the sickest."

"Are you trying to tell me that you loved me?"

"I did."

"Love doesn't include taking my innocence unwillingly."

He smiled. He fucking smiled.

"You truly are my own Frankenstein, Marley Van Allan."

I shook my head. "The love that you describe is not love. It's called having severe issues."

"You can talk."

"Oh I fucking can, and I will. Jimmy Blake may have loved me once, but after I gave him the chance to take control over a human, he abused it. Like a child. That means it was never real love. It was a childhood crush turned maniacal control-freak. I don't doubt I'm a monster, but Jimmy Blake was much worse. I know love. Love has to be equel to be real. You are dead and I may care a little but I am so fucking relieved."

This time, he laughed. He brought a fist to his stomach, clutching it like he was dying of laughter.

"If you think you're so clever and aware, then wake up."

"What?"

He grabbed my cheeks in his large hands, encompassing the lower half of my fave within his hold. He leaned forward, pulling me towards him making my neck strain and ache. He tried leaning back, but he only pulled me more. I squirmed under his grip, making a small noise of discontent.

He took a moment, grinning from ear to ear, and staring into my green eyes with his burning caramel ones.

"Wake up," he whispered, so quietly that if I hadn't been paying attention then I wouldn't have heard it. "Wake up."

Then, abruptly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It was foreign and entirely cold.

All whilst he was molding and maeuvering his lips over mine, my eyes started streaming with tears. His teeth gripped my lower lip, sucking on it and biting down hard enouhh to draw blood. His grip on my jaw became more fierce, as he tried to pin me down.

I didn't want this. I didn't want this.

All I could taste was alcohol and decaying sanity.

This isn't real.

This isn't real.

This isn't real.

As he started to move away from my lips, trailing anywhere he wanted I managed to pull back.

With the strongest feat of strength I could muster, I swung my hand forwards. It hit his cheek, and I could feel how hard his bones were under my palm.

Just as fast, he swung his own, catching my cheek and sending my neck to the side. It was so forceful, that I toppled to my right.

Then something was in my way. Something that wasn't there before. The stool to which I sat on, which was supposed to be over by Hershel. A pain in my collarbone erupted as I went straight to the ground, my legs tangling up with the chairs.

I let out a "oof" sound when I had finally stopped moving, and realised I that this definitely wasn't the place I was supposed to fall. I looked down my body and saw where thought I had been standing.

"Marley?" Hershel's voice sounded, coughing. "Are you okay?"

I sighed heavily, lifting my body up as best as I could and sat back on my stool. I looked around, realising that Jimmy was gone and he never was there.

"I think so," I whispered, like if I spoke too loud then he would somehow reapear. Without letting myself settle in my seat, I rose again and started to walk to a door I had seen at the back. "I need another drink."

+

"Marley," Rick's deep voice was soft to her as he reached a hand out to hold her shoulder. "What are you doing?" The man looked at the array of drinks she had collected, to the redness in her eyes, to the the wet patch on her shirt. He had already put two and two together but didn't want to believe it.

"I--" she paused, to blink heavily. "Got happy." She smiled widely, leaning on the hand placed on her shoulder.

Rick glanced over his shoulder for a moment at Glenn. "Who's Jimmy?"

Marley didn't answer, instead unscrewing the top of a bottle and drinking a lot more than she should have been. She kept drinking it. She wasn't stopping. So much so that the liquid starting coming out of her mouth, streaming down her neck and she started to choke.

Rick forcefully grabbed the neck of the bottle. He started to wrestle with Marley for the bottle, but she whimpered and tried to get away. He started repeating her name and for her to calm down before she crumbled in his arms. Not crying, but giggling. Amongst those giggles she said the answer to his question.

"He was my boyfriend," she snorted, leaning into Rick's chest.

Rick looked to Glenn, who had a worried look in his eyes as he watched one of his best friends look so broken.

Glenn remembered what happened last time she was drunk.

Whilst rick looked helplessly between the girl and Hershel, she had nestled her nose in the crook of his neck. He held her back, keeping her from falling over.

He heard he say a few things. "What?"

She huffed in annoyance. "I said that I want milkshake!" She yelled in his ear, causing him to push her to sit down. She didn't want to do that, she just wanted to drink. So she grabbed the bottle that Hershel was pouring from. It slipped from her grasp for a moment but she recovered.

Rick did the same as before and started to take it from her grasp. But before he could lay a finger on it, a gun was pressed against his cheek.

He put his hands up in surrender, backing away from Marley's poisonous stare.

"Let me be happy, daddy-o."

He nodded, showing that he wasn't going to take her supplement. She started to drink it, lowering the gun in the process.

This time, he turned to Hershel, who had been watching Marley unfold her secrets and become a drunken mess from such little liquid.

"Let's finish this up back at home," rick suggested.

Home. What did that even mean, ever?

"Beth collapsed," this grabbed Hershel's attention. "Is in some sort of state. Must be in shock, I think you are too."

Hershel's hazy eyes looked back and forth for a moment before speaking.

"Maggie's with her?"

"Yeah, but Beth needs you."

"What could I do? She needs her mother." Sorrow filled his voice and Glenn shifted uncomfortabley. Despite being irrevocably in love with maggie, the daughter of the greene family, he hardly knew anything about them. He felt like a disappointment in that aspect. "Or rather to mourn... like she should've done weeks ago."

Marley nodded fevertly, coughing into her hands when the drink hit her wrong.

"I robbed her of that." Hershel looked to nowhere, in particular, probably blinking away his simmering emotions. "I see that now."

Rick looked to Marley, but directed his speech to Hershel. He'd hoped to get through to both the hopeless creatures. "You thought there was a cure. Can't blame yourself for holding out for hope."

"But he was dumbass," Marley added.

"Marley, plea-"

"Hope?" Hershel smiled, which he'd mirrored from rick beside him. "When I first saw you running across my field with your boy in your arms, I had little hope he would survive."

Glenn caught Marley's eyes and her hand rising to cradle her head. Like she didn't want to listen. He took a few steps closer, readjusting the gun in his arms.

"But he did," rick assured.

"He did." The old man still looked at the circle of memories which was his glass. "Even though we lost otis."

"I'm leaving, bye," Marley announced, drunkenly getting up from her seat and tumbling towards the front door.

Rick eyed Glenn, who took the silent order and stepped in front of Marley, placing a hand on her shoulder before gently nudging her to a seat that sat at a table. On the table was a broken glass which he moved.

Marley covered her ears, sinking down into the seat

"Your man Shane, and marley made it back and we saved your boy." Hershel's blue eyes were wide, looking up and taking a deep breath. "That was the miracle that proved to me miracles do exist. Only it was a sham, a bait and switch."

Soft thumping came from behind Hershel. He looked over his shoulder and found that Marley was hitting her head against the table. Glenn started to try and stop her but she batted him away.

Hershel continued speaking. "I was a fool, Rick. And you people saw that."

"At least, I did," Marley spoke up, rubbing the sore spot in her forehead

"Marley, be quiet, please," Rick said, exasperated.

"Don't tell me what to do!" She yelled back, slamming her palm on the table.

"I'm asking!" He yelled back, louder. This made Marley sulk back into her seat.

"My daughters deserve better than that." Hershel took another gulp of his drink. He reached over and took the bottle beside him and started to pour more jnto his glass. He was far from finishing the bottle, but his hopeless mind wanted to see nothing.

Marley laid her arms on the table, a piece of broken glass digging into her arm. She ignored ithe and leaned forward and closing her eyes. She let her hair fall over her face, concealing her dark circles and scratched arms.

Rick brought his own hands to his face and rubbed his eyes in frustration, walking over to Glenn who was standing guard by the door.

Rick looked at Marley, he didn't expect it from her. To be this way. He didn't expect to find Marley getting drunk, because he didn't know why she wanted to.

"So what do we do? Just wait for them to pass out? Marley's got a gun." Glenn said, looking worriedly at his friend and the colt which laid on her lap whilst she appeared to be calming down and almost sleeping.

"Just go," the farmer retorted, staring angrily at the wall. "Just go!" He said louder.

Rick walked closer to where the girl sat, kneeling down slowly and looking at her face. He kept a hand on his knee, and through the curtain of red he saw her staring right back.

"Leave me here," she whispered, her eyes wide and scared.

He simply shook his head, standing up straight. "I promised Maggie I'd bring you home safe."

Hershel let out a dark chuckle. "Like you promised that little girl?"

Rick took a pause, thinking of what to say next. "So what's your plan? Finish that bottle? Drink yourself to death?"

Marley made her argument clear - "That is my plan."

Rick sighed. He had to convince a hallucinating victim of manipulation and a hopeless man losing his God to come back to a farm that wasnt even his.

"Hershel, leave your girls alone? Marley, just drop everything and never come back?"

Hershel angrily got up from his seat and faced the ex-cop. His hands ground up into fists as his face contorted into slight drunken rage. "Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm. You people are like a plague!" Hershel's voice echoed in the room as he started throwing his fists in a fit of distaste. "I do the christian thing, give you shelter, and you destroy it all!"

Rick approached him, unafarid. "The world was already in bad shape when we met."

"And you take no responsibility! You're supposed to be their leader!"

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Rick's voice was hoarse as he attempted to seem louder and more in control than the old man in front of him. To possibly gain authority iver disasterous substances that had plagued their minds into losing hope and finding truth, reality, cynisism.

There was a moment of silence between them both, and then a small sound came from where Marley was sitting as she dropped a piece of glass on the floor - the one that was previously sticking in her arm, before she pulled it out.

"Yes. Yes, you are," Hershel nodded, digging his teeth into his lips and turning to walk back to his seat."

"Come on. Your girls need you now more than ever," Rick followed u into his seat. He placed a hand on Hershel's elbow, only for the man to tear it away, like a child whom didn't want to do as their parents said.

"I didn't want to believe you. You told me there was no cure, that these people were dead, and not sick. I chose not to believe that."

Marley piped up once again. "What a dumbass."

"But when Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept coming, that's when I knew what an ass I'd been."

"Preach it," the girl lifted an imaginary glass into the air.

Glenn sighed.

"That Annette had been dead long ago and I was feeding her rotten corpse! That's when I knew there was no hope. And when that little girl came out of the barn, the look on your face-- I knew you knew it, too. Right?" Hershel's eyes held the third stage of grief. The third stage of grief was depression. No matter how different those stages looked on different people, there was always five and Hershel's were delayed - making it for a painful ride. "There is no hope. And you know it now, like I do. Don't you?"

Rick and Glenn exchanged a look. It was either one saying they knew what he was saying was true, or utter pity.

"There is no hope for any of us."

Whilst Rick went to Hershel convincing for him with an award winning speech, Glenn took a different approach in sitting down next to his friend.

"Marley?"

She nodded at him, her eyes veiny and red and tired from everything that happened those few days. Glenn saw that. Without knowing, he was looking at the wreckage of guilt and control issues.

"Are we going home?" He said softly, watching his volume. "I'm asking you, you call the shots this time. Are we going back to he farm?"

Glenn knew exactly what to say.

The alcohol had torn through her body and scarred it up entirely, screwing up her mind. She slowly lowered her head again to Glenns hand which rested on the table, her cheek pressing against his knuckles.

"Take me home, Glenn."

The sound of a door opening, cause Glenn to turn in his seat whilst taking his hand and placing it on Marley's arm.

There in the doorway, stood two men being cascaded in light, clad in old t shirts and a flat cap. One small and one large, their guns visible - they were brave enough to say a word in the people's presence.

"Son of a bitch," the smaller one said. "They're alive"

+

Okay before I start blabbering, here are the answers to your questions:

"Did you have any other ideas on how Daryl and Marley would meet?"

- I wish I could write you a four page essay on all the different ideas I had but Marley and this book was started on the idea of them meeting that way

I already had a fanfic about Daryl when I started it, but then my brother - the saviour he is - asked me why I didn't make them meet in the game survival instinct and so I made Marley straight out of that.

"Random question, but what type of music do you think Marley listens to?"

- Everything that's in the playlist I suppose. There are a few things I put into who Marley is that I've pulled from my own character, and her music taste is definitely one of those things.

"How did Marley and Jimmy meet?"

- They met in high school. He was generally part of her clique. But they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend until after her parents died. Before that they were just friends.

"What was Daryl's first impressions of Marley when they first met?"

- Gosh, I think he was just very indifferent to her and a bit annoyed that he had to practically babysit her because his uncle forced him to. He was very curious about her though.

"Did you have any other names for Marley?"

- I don't know if any of my longest readers remember, but around the fifteenth chapter - I think - I changed her name to Marley. Her name was originally Marie. Then I watched "I am Legend" and the character's daughter was called Marley and I thought it was the best name ever. I made it so her full name was Marlene but preferred to be called Marley.

"Has she ever had a girlfriend? You mentioned her being bi and I'm just wondering."

- Yeah, in case you guys didn't catch on in the chapter "there she was", Marley is Bisexual. That's a trait pulled from me, minus the asexuality. Anyways, yes, Marley did have a girlfriend before her parents died. They were going strong for about a year and a half, but then her parents died and Marley shut everyone out including her girlfriend.

"So I'm guessing this Victor is her brother?? I wonder if they were close before her parents died and he left??"

- I guess revealing his name isn't that bad. Yes, Victor is her brother. He is actually named after Victor Von Doom, which is where I also got the inspiration for the surname "Van Allan". I'll tell you now that Victor was a lot older than Marley, so they weren't as close as I would loved them to be, and they also had some issues that I won't reveal. But Victor plays an extremely vital role in who Marley is.

"I was wondering how exactly she got caught up with Jimmy and became a stripper. Was it just for money after her parents died or is there more to that?"

- As I said, they met in high school. After her parents died, Jimmy charmed his way into her life. Doing the whole "I won't leave you" bullshit, with the "I'll look after you" mantra. He essentially manipulated a mourning girl to be his girlfriend. Her becoming a stripper was a result of a favour being paid. He gave them Marley and the owner wouldn't send his dogs on him kinda gist.

"Is Marley going to confide in him (shane) more or will they begin to clash heads? "

- Shane and Marley's on and off alliance is one of my favourite things to do - because as far as I've read, that's never happened before. I think they are bound by blood they have spilt, and no matter how much Shane annoys Marley or Marley threatens Shane, there will always be that bond.

"How did Her and Jimmy celebrate her birthday? Or her parents before they passed?"

- This sounds really sad, but whilst Marley and Jimmy were together, they didn't celebrate her birthday. Her birthday wasn't something she wanted to celebrate anymore and in Jimmy's head it was "great I don't have to spend money" - what an asshole. And before her parents passed, it was undeniable that she was spoilt. The morning would be spent celebrating her birthday, the afternoon would be spent celebrating christmas.

"Do you plan on making hazard a series or one book for the whole twd series?"

- I plan on doing a series, two seasons per book (but they won't end as soon as the season does) this one is s1-s2 and the next will be 3 and 4 and so on. Some people find it annoying when authors do this, but I write a lot and I'm only on season 2. I do this thing called waffling which is when I stretch out episodes for chapters like 3 and a half chapters for one episode or one chapter for one. So saying that if i out all the seasons into out new book that would make an extremely daunting amount of chapters on one book.

"Favourite line you've written?"

-*frantically reads own fanfic*

Golly I can't pinpoint one so here's a bunch.

"It was like the world was screaming get for them to keep going. But the world had other plans."

"Shane and Marley; victors."

"Never belonging, yet, being and necessary... something."

"He didn't know how much he loved the sound of his own name until she had uttered it."

"That is how you end."

"I still remember the first thing you said to me. And I remember that it does not make sense for me to say it." (Even though you haven't seen that yet lol)

"Pros and cons of Marley?"

- lol wtf

Pros: beautiful, bisexual, cute af, sassy, intelligent, comforting, culturally clever, funny, realistic, determined, loyal, wants to do good, original, extremely thankful.

Cons: facade, innately selfish, judgemental, venomous tone, liar, irresponnsible, hard on herself, cynical, rigid, suspicious, co-murderer, has done a lot of bad, dweller, loves the wrong people.

"Favourte Darley moment?"

"'ll bring you back a rabbit."

"Fave ship other than Darley?"

- um sharley would be dope af as a murdering duo power couple, but rickley and glennley is cute af.

Anyways that concludes the questions.

I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE ON CHRISTMAS AND MARLEY'S BIRTHDAY BUT I WAS SO BUSY I DIDN'T WANT TO GIVE YOU A HALF ASSED CHAPTEr

I have a script to write and pictures to take I'm busy kk

I'm quite excited for the next few chapters.

There will be a few things you WONT expect from Marley.

Can you guess what they are?

Also can we talk about how I perfectly cast jimmy^^

Happy new year, and I wish you luck in your days ahead.

- sylar