❝ And that's Marlowe - better known as Mar...❞
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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞. You rarely catch her without sand-covered skin and dark locks winded up from saltwater. Born and raised on the island, with a house that radiates...
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𝐃eath.
Such an absurd thing. Something as natural to life as birth, yet we live our entire lives dreading it. Every breathing organism's primary instinct is to survive- to delay the day when they go from something to nothing. From being over the moon to being six feet under. Everything from the family's cat to the ocean's algae; survival.
Survive, survive, survive.
Marlowe fears death. Not death upon herself, but death upon the people she loves. It might be because she's been so close to losing someone, so many times before. Maybe, it's the constant worry that her sister's going to drug herself to death that once blossomed this fear. It blossomed and burst into a nagging feeling of anxiousness every time the house is a little too quiet.
Sometimes, when the emergency services drive by their home, she pictures them pulling up into her driveway. She doesn't know if she'd expect the sirens to belong to an ambulance or to a police car. Either way, the sound alone brings such a heavy feeling to her entire being. So much so that she usually holds her breath, wishing for the floor to swallow her whole.
When a body is rolled across the dock by the Coast Guard, Marlowe finds herself facing the ocean. Away from her friends. The light breeze toys with her baby hairs, and the soft swooshing of the waves brings ease to her tight chest. It smells of salt; everything around her. A warm and homey smell, such a contrast to the otherwise sorrowful atmosphere.
"Who's that?" John B voices from behind her.
"It's Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm." A girl, whose name Marlowe can't put her finger on, replies. "Check out this pic I got. Dead body. Insane"
The brunette still doesn't budge. Her blue eyes cling to the soothing water before her, observing a swarm of tiny fish as they explore the shallow grounds.
She can hear Pope mutter a holy shit.
"What kind of boat did he have?" JJ questions. This pokes her interest, which has her listening more closely to the answer.
