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

*

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.

***

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."

Leah growled, currents of heat radiating outward as her anger continued to rise. "Look-"

"No, you look."

Marshall was gentle in peeling himself away from a snug embrace. A few steps were taken toward the doorway, but he stopped when within arm's reach. His passive expression morphed into a deep scowl.

Fierce brown eyes met relentless, penetrative golden ones.

"Just because you decided to come here when you're pissed off doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer alongside you. You're being selfish, and, frankly, we could all do without the shitty attitude. If you want to be here, cool, fine- you're welcome to do that. But if you're just going to use it as an excuse to fuck up everyone else's good day, you may as well see yourself out."

Leah stood up straight. Her clenched fists shook at her sides. Veins in her arm began bulging outward, courtesy of a tight grip.

She looked like she was ready to throw a punch. 

"You really should leave, Leah-"

"Stay the fuck out of it, Paul!"

"Don't fucking talk to him like that!"

Marshall's desire to protect what was his almost made him dart forward. He nearly gave in to his own frustrations, but a firm hand grabbed him by his bicep.

Musk, bergamot, and dog erupted throughout his nasal cavity. The scents as a collective unit successfully made the vampire simmer down. Tense shoulders fell back to their previous position as the hand on his arm moved to rub circles along his back.

A tired sigh shed light on his growing mental fatigue. "Leah, really, it's tiring. Fighting with you almost every day is tiring. It doesn't do anything for either of us, and it makes things awkward for the people who have to witness it. That's not fair to anyone involved. But, y'know, if you still want to pick a fight with me, we can take this elsewhere."

Leah's face scrunched up as if she had just eaten something sour. "I'm not going anywhere with you, leech."

"Fine. Then, you've chosen to end this conversation and, with that, the argument connected to it. Kudos to you."

Marshall allowed himself to be pulled back. He turned away from his seething pack mate, instead choosing to focus on reclaiming his shared seat on the comfortable bench against the wall. In an attempt to further calm himself, cold fingers took hold of the silver pendant hanging from his choker. His bonding mark's secretion of pheromones also worked to bring comfort.

That same feeling of safety from earlier began to reveal itself once again.

And it shattered into a million pieces as a strong hand grabbed him by the back of his neck.

Marshall stopped walking.

His entire body froze, locking up without his permission.

Golden eyes tunneled.

He turned around, only to catch sight of a faceless person with a menacing grin as their sole feature.

Their smile—their damned fucking smile—filled him with dread.

*

"God, you're squirming around so much. You putting up a fight is making this so much more interesting, though."

"No! Stop- ow! Please- stop it! Let go of me!"

"Aww, come on now, doll. We're being so nice by giving you all this attention, and this is how you thank us? Maybe we should restrain you to keep our sweet little toy close and compliant."

Marshall's bruised, battered face was pushed against the pavement in time with a heavy weight forcing itself down onto the back of his neck.

"There, isn't that better, handsome?"

*

"-oney Bun, come on, I know you're scared- but you don't want to do this. Please, remember, you're not there. You're not with them. Leah would never hurt you like that-"

Leah.

Leah?

What was wrong with her that made Paul sound so concerned?

As if a switch went off in his head, Marshall blinked himself out of a terrifying flashback.

His vision was still a bit blurry at the edges.

That didn't stop him, however, from witnessing, with brutal clarity, his position of standing mere inches from Leah, her face red, eyes full of tears, and a trembling hand strangling the life out of her.

Horrified, Marshall scurried away like he'd been burned.

"Oh shit- oh fuck-" He began hyperventilating. "Oh fuck! I didn't- she wasn't- I didn't mean to- it wasn't her-"

Marshall heard the scraping of chair legs against linoleum. Screeching wood exacerbated his fight or flight reflexes since he knew frantic crowding would follow it. He didn't want that. He didn't want anyone trying to step in, whether their intentions were pure or harmful, out of necessity to deescalate a rather tense situation.

They didn't know. 

No one knew what was going on except for one person.

Everyone else didn't realize a unanimous decision to act first rather than ask first was only making everything worse.

Perhaps that's why Paul took hold of his boyfriend, cupping his cheeks, and made sure to keep golden eyes on him.

"Don't approach him," Paul warned in a threatening manner. His voice was followed by encompassing silence. "Don't touch him. Don't even talk to him. We're going to sit outside to let him decompress. In the meantime, you guys can give Leah a good 'talk' for her fucking up so badly."

He didn't give anyone a chance to question him on his wording. Instead, Paul pulled Marshall onto the front porch to sit down on the stairs.

Both larger, warmer hands stayed planted on soft cheeks. Gentle rubs were made against the smooth surface. Connected fingers cupped either side of a defined jaw as if holding onto a fragile, priceless treasure.

Paul's grip was purposely delicate to drive away the sensation of being trapped.

"You don't have to say anything, baby. I understand. Believe me- I get it. I'm not mad at you for accidentally lashing out. I know you didn't mean to- that you couldn't control it. I just want you to remember that you're with me, we're together, and you're safe. No one is coming after you like that. They're not here, and you're not there. You're safe."

Peering into rich brown eyes, even though they were filled with worry, gave Marshall an anchoring point. It was like he was on a boat lost at sea, and he was given a chance to find peace, to keep himself from drifting away into another flashback, by the guidance of a radiant lighthouse. He was beckoned, not only with ease but with purpose as well. Regardless of how many monsters tried to lure him into those murky, dark depths, a vibrant light called out to guide him where he belonged.

Still, having the support he needed didn't necessarily quell all of Marshall's demons.

Hypersensitivity to noise remained. Fierce quivers refused to let up. Guilt, alongside disappointment, washed over him in chaotic waves. Golden eyes didn't dare blink out of fear of what would happen if he looked away for even a second.

There was awareness of Leah's lacking knowledge in regard to a certain issue at hand. But her actions only solidified Marshall's belief that maybe it'd be better for him to let go of her completely.

Because, much like the Cullens, she wasn't safe to be around.

The realization made him feel terribly exposed.

"I'm sorry. Can I just-" His eyes pulled shut. "Can I get a minute to myself? Please?"

Paul seemed like he wanted to say something. He took a deep breath, however, holding back his own need to protect what was his, and nodded.

His hushed, angry voice filtered outward after he got back inside.

Marshall clutched at the fabric of his pants.

He was upset at himself for not having better control of his emotions. He was upset at himself for not having the cognitive ability to stifle such spastic, unhinged reactions to being grabbed in a particular spot.

He was well aware those depraved assholes were all dead.

But the pain and trauma they caused just wouldn't let up despite a substantial passage of time.

It was a frustrating experience.

Greater bouts of dread clung to Marshall as he also realized, now, he didn't have a choice but to be honest about the entire ordeal: lashing out, panicking, needing space —all of it.

He wanted to tell the truth because the wolves deserved to know.

And he wanted to make sure something like this didn't happen ever again.

Marshall reentered the house while Leah was attempting to argue her way out of a scolding. All voices came to a halt, however, upon seeing the vampire.

"...I think we should have a chat. Talk about some issues. Set some boundaries. Things like that."

A few people looked at each other out of uncertainty. Thankfully, they did as told without issue—seemingly because they could tell a key piece of information was missing that they required to get the full picture.

Little did they know, the image Marshall was about to paint wasn't going to be beautiful.

"Now, I fight with you often, Leah, but I've never actually put my hands on you before. And for that, legitimately, I am sorry. If I frightened you or made you fear for your life in any way, I'm sorry. I really do mean that.

"...With that being the case, though, you need to be made aware of why your actions weren't and won't ever be tolerated if you do something like this again. Not just by me, but by Paul too. Because he knows, and has known for a while, why the things you did caused a reaction that was so serious."

Marshall glanced to the side, steeling himself up to share a vital part of his old life.

"I'm going to explain something very important to you guys. Aside from Paul and the people in my coven, no one knows about this. The things I'm about to tell you, I'm telling you in confidence. None of this is fabricated in any way. If you're not mature enough to understand that, you should leave. Right now. Because I won't tolerate ridicule."

"You don't get to tell me what to do after-"

"You will listen to him, and you will do it quietly."

Sam's rebuttal toward Leah's confrontational statement was met with a hardened expression.

She didn't attempt to say anything else.

"There seems to be a...I don't want to say an obsession, but I'm not really sure what other word to use. But there's, I guess I'll say a common misconception, that vampires should solely be defined by their trait of killing things in order to survive. I think you guys forget that, once, I was human. I ate and bled and lived just like you do. I loved having a nice cup of hot chocolate or spiced tea whenever it snowed. I loved running around in the rain, regardless of how much it made my fingers burn from the cold. I loved making recipes for my father's bakery and being able to actually taste them. Believe it or not, there are parts of my human life that I actually still miss to this day.

"But then the night came when I was turned, and suddenly everything I knew was flipped on its head."

Leah sneered. "I don't know what the hell you becoming a leech has to do with anything-"

"I was turned into a vampire because I was murdered. I didn't catch an illness that couldn't be cured. I didn't die because of age related issues. I was killed. And it was personal."

In his peripheral vision, Marshall could see several expressions morphing into genuine shock.

"..It's funny. In a morbid way. How normal, simple acts of human life are taken for granted so easily. How, as a vampire, those details become a distant memory to cherish- because you're never given a chance to experience them again. You learn to appreciate the little things more. You learn to be more open and accepting of a variety of stuff too. In light of that, though, as someone who was forced to witness the brutal nature of men overcome with selfish desire, as someone who was forced to bear witness to the ugliest side of humanity...it's difficult for me to always understand why I've been so hated by your kind.

"I never asked for this. To be a vampire- it wasn't a choice I made. It was something done to save my life after experiencing a very violent death. I wasn't turned into a vampire because this was something cool to do. I didn't become this way because I thought I was superior to anyone."

"Sorry to say, but your little sob story isn't-"

"I had to cast aside my humanity and walk this earth as the person you see now because I was gang raped, beaten, and left, covered in my own blood and the filth of the world, to die in the street. They held me down against my will, much like the way Leah attempted to, which is why I freaked out. Because when you grabbed me, I didn't see you. When you grabbed me, my brain decided to switch up who exactly was standing in front of me. And I guess my eyes decided to follow through because I didn't see you. I saw the visage of a person who was successful in hurting me beyond repair."

Enraged, Marshall stared directly into his pack mate's wide eyes to get his point across.

"And the reason I'm not like most vampires- the reason I seem more human- is because, unlike a lot of people who are turned successfully, my heart stopped beating during my transition. I literally fucking died because of the severity of my injuries. Twice.

"I only survived because Carlisle found a way to revive me without the use of medical equipment. It was him, his own two hands, and some form of divine intervention that kept me from leaping off the mortal coil forever. The only reason I'm not buried in a fucking casket right now is because he saved me. Doing so may have taken a lot of opportunities away, but being a vampire also gave me the chance to live a life I was robbed of before even reaching the age of thirty.

"I mean- can you comprehend how horrifying it is to experience a brutal, violent, torturous death...and still live to remember it? Can you honestly understand what it's like to have to recount your own murder, no matter how blurry and fractured the memory is, and attempt to continue living a life like nothing ever happened? Do you realize how degrading it is to know that everything I did meant nothing in the end? Because I wasn't strong enough to protect myself or my sister? No. You don't. And you never will."

Paul rose to his feet. He stood behind his imprint, resting his hands on both shoulders.

Marshall's tense body relaxed at the touch.

"I buried my mother at eighteen. I buried my father while frozen at the age of twenty five. Any friends or people I cared about when I was 'alive' died, while I continued to live in a world that was ever changing, and trapped with a family forever stuck in their ways.

"Before meeting Brad, before meeting Paul, the concept of freedom seemed unreachable to me. I thought my only purpose in life was to give and give and give until I had nothing else to offer. Until I became a hollowed out shell, wandering the earth without a goal to reach or a purpose to strive for.

"So if I ever only seem like some bloodthirsty leech, remember that I still feel and experience things the way any human would. When you talk about hardships, remember I've had my fair share. When it comes to experiencing real Hell, trust me, I've seen it. I've lived through it. And, to be completely honest, I still haven't fully escaped it. Because the things I've been through...they stick with you. And they change you. Forever. So I'm so sorry if me being around is such a huge issue to you. But maybe you should take a step back and realize that, even if I'm of a different species, I'm still a person. And I know too well what it's like to be hurt, to be betrayed, and to be forgotten."