Chapter Text
"Marina... Yes..." Samarie moaned, partially muffled by the pillow she'd buried herself in. Her fingers were buried deep inside her cunt, thrusting away while she ground her clit against her palm. Her eyes were closed so she couldn't see how her scarred, malnourished body writhed nakedly across sweat-stained sheets that should have been washed weeks ago. In her mind's eye she wasn't here, though. She was far away from her messy, smelly dorm room, covered in dust and dirty laundry. She was with Marina.
Beautiful, perfect Marina. Her saviour, her raven-winged angel. The girl of her dreams who didn't even know her name, her one and only love. Most nights Samarie tossed and turned with nightmares, but when she did not it was Marina she dreamt of.
Her Marina was a shy one, reclusive and reserved. But Samarie knew the kind of person she was underneath all that armour. She'd read her diary, watched her when she was alone, when she was asleep. She knew Marina in a way no-one else did, she saw her beloved for the strong, beautiful, confident girl she truly was. Samarie didn't know whether to shout it from the rooftops and let the whole world know how special Marina truly was, or jealously hoard that secret until the end of time. It would be more special, that way. If she was the only person on Earth blessed with that knowledge.
Samarie slid two fingers into her mouth, caressing them with her tongue, pretending it was Marina that she was sucking. She'd seen her penis, dainty and small and as pretty as the rest of her, in the school showers after PE. Marina used to be shy about that, too, but these days hardly ever seemed to care that she was built a little different from the other girls. Idly, Samarie wondered why that might be, but didn't give much thought to the matter. If Marina was happy enough in her body not to hide it, then that was all that mattered.
Once, Samarie had seen Marina caressing herself through her panties. She hadn't meant to, she'd just looked through her dorm room window in the hopes of catching her asleep, maybe sticking around to listen to her breathing for a minute or two so she could imagine herself nestled in her gentle embrace. She didn't stick around to watch the rest of the act, it felt too invasive, but that didn't stop the image from getting burned into her memory forevermore.
Another moan slipped past her pallid lips as she started fucking herself even faster, curling her fingers to reach that special spot inside her. She imagined herself worshipping Marina's cock, taking it as deep as she could and leaving black lipstick marks all over it and her smoothly shaved balls. Samarie wanted Marina to claim her, to bite her, to leave marks across her neck and chest, maybe even covering up her scars with beautiful red and purple spots so she could actually stand to look at herself. She wanted Marina to cover her face and hair in her seed, she wanted her to kiss her while pounding her into the mattress or up against the wall. She wanted Marina to fuck her in any position they could come up with, to touch her in every way, she wanted... she wanted...
Samarie wanted to know Marina's favourite colour. She wanted to rest her head in her lap while she read her favourite book. She wanted to take Marina to the carnival and arcade, she wanted to walk hand in hand to the theatre for a movie that was new to both of them. She wanted Marina to play video games and build Lego sets with her. She wanted them to sit together at lunch, to kiss without a care in the world for who could see them. Samarie wanted to be Marina's girlfriend.
Without warning she broke down in tears, sobbing pitifully into the uncaring dark of night. Usually, Samarie didn't start crying until after she was done, when reality set in to spoil the afterglow and remind her of just how pathetic she was. She kept fucking herself through the tears, harder and harder like she was punishing herself, pulling her hand free from her mouth to yank at her hair.
Her orgasm was painful, brief and unsatisfying. She tried in vain for another one, a better one, but her poor body just wasn't up for it. Still wracked with sobs she pulled her fingers out and wiped them off on the bedsheets, before slowly opening her eyes to look at herself.
Almost two metres tall, but as skinny as a newborn fawn with far too visible ribs. Her pale skin was covered in scars across her arms, thighs and stomach. Even a couple on her barely-there breasts. A lot of them self-inflicted, but most were ghoulish reminders of everything they had done to her. Samarie wasn't just ugly, she was monstrous. Barely recognisable as human. Spoiled goods.
She buried her face in her pillow to muffle her cries. Who the hell was she trying to fool? Marina would never be hers. Even if she did somehow have a fetish for scarred, used-up twigs, she would never want to spend time with some crazy bitch who couldn't even get off without weeping like a widowed hag. Samarie knew damn well she was unlovable down to her core.
Eight years now she'd been in love with Marina, ever since the day she came back from winter break wearing the prettiest dress ever, with curly long hair and looking a thousand times happier than she had the year before. And not once, not ever, had Samarie spoken as much as a word to her. She'd had an excuse back when she still had to go home to the Ninth Circle after school, but now? Now it was just cowardice.
With sore lungs and weary muscles, Samarie lifted her head to look across her bomb site of a room. She saw the bouquet of wilted roses she'd bought Marina for Valentine's Day two months ago, never to be gifted because she'd chickened out right outside her door and ran away. She saw the cardboard box in the corner, filled to the brim with eight years' worth of unsent letters. And finally her closet, the insides of its doors covered in drawings and photos of Marina, taken in secret or printed out from her sparse Instagram posts.
Samarie truly was pathetic. A stalker, a creep and a pervert. Marina deserved better than her.
Not bothering to get up for water, Samarie laid back in her bed and stared up at the ceiling, settling in for another sleepless night.
Marina groaned in frustration as she threw a ball of rubber bands at the wall, only for it to bounce onto her desk and knock over a jar of pencils. She hated being bored, especially on a Saturday, but was stuck in that annoying in-between state where none of the things you have to entertain yourself with quite hit the spot. She could read a book, but she'd just finished a series she was really invested in and wanted to let it rest before starting a new one. She could muck about on the computer, but her internet connection had been spotty at best all day so that just sounded like an exercise in frustration. She could masturbate, but she just wasn't in the mood, pure and simple, plus afterwards she'd just go right back to being bored.
With the pencils tidied up, Marina reached for her phone. She hesitated for a moment, before taking the plunge and texting her friends to see if they wanted to hang out. Well, two out of three of them, at least. She did not have the energy to deal with Levi right now.
Marina didn't have to pace around her room for long before her phone buzzed with incoming texts. And of course, both Olivia and Daan were busy studying for exams. Well, at least she hadn't gotten her hopes up that much. With a sigh, she fell backwards onto her bed.
She didn't mind having few friends, really. It was easier this way, without having to split her attention between multiple friend groups and balance her time accordingly. Still, sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if they even considered her a friend at all, or if she was just an... acquaintance. Someone they spent time with because they may as well, she was friendly enough and didn't cause scenes, and besides, it'd be rude to just ignore her.
Maybe going public about being trans had been a mistake after all.
She'd come out when she was just 10, the catalyst for her parents' divorce. Apparently Marina's mother had been able to tolerate her husband's abuse when it was just her having to take it, but the day he lifted a hand against their child had been the final straw. Things got a lot better after that. Marina got to wear cute dresses, grow her hair out, wear makeup, and start hormone treatments once she was ready.
Even so, Marina didn't put much effort into socialising during middle school. The other kids treated her like an outsider, and the teachers like an inconvenience they were forced to accommodate, so she figured it'd be easier just to stay out of everyone's way. If they didn't want her then she didn't want them either, so to hell with them.
She'd been grateful for the fresh start high school had offered. It was a lot easier to pass as a girl to people who'd never known her as a boy, even if they did know she was trans. Which they did, or at least the girls in her class did. It's a bit difficult to hide a penis in the showers after PE, after all. She still cringed at her memories of trying to do so anyway, thanking whichever god cared to listen that she'd grown out of it. Even if the reason why was a little embarrassing on its own...
Marina let out another sigh as she sat up to reply to Daan and Olivia so they didn't assume she took offence at being declined. You get upset at a slur one time and suddenly everyone thinks you're made of glass. Another reason she'd gone back to keeping mostly to herself.
Back when she was still trying to fit in and occasionally got swept up in spontaneous girl talk, she always felt more like a guest than anything else. And Alll-mer forbid she comment on anything... female, like trying to give beauty tips or complaining about boys. They'd all go silent for a moment and look at her awkwardly, like their instincts were telling them that she wasn't allowed to talk about that stuff. That that was 'real' girl talk, and she needed to mind her own business.
"Cowards." Marina mumbled to herself as she shifted over on the bed to take her piercings out of the little case she kept on her bedside table, carefully putting them in as she checked herself out in the mirror. Her makeup was perfect as always, which it better be after how much time she'd spent on it. She smirked a little at the reflection she used to hate with such vitriol, then stood up and headed for the closet.
Fuck rotting in here. She was going for a walk.
Samarie walked languidly across the campus grounds, her back slouched and a tote bag slung across her shoulder. She kept her head down and stayed out of people's way, the last thing she wanted after a pharmacy run was attention. Not that anyone ever tried striking up a conversation with her, her vocal cords were so out of practice that speaking for more than a handful of minutes at a time made her hoarse, but you could never be too safe. If someone asked about her day, she might blurt out something embarrassing and end up having to go jump off the clock tower in the town square.
Marina wouldn't care, though. She's smart, she wouldn't judge anyone for needing medication to remain mentally stable and physically healthy. If you have a condition, there is no shame in seeking treatment for it. At least, she wrote as much in her diary, along with a detailed record of her own medicinal intake. They shared a dosage for anxiety medication, incidentally, though Marina was a lot better at remembering to take hers consistently. Samarie... well, she didn't like how drowsy she got from the pills. Bad memories.
She really needed to ask her doctor for a different prescription.
Something landed on Samarie's hand, and she looked up just in time for raindrops to start falling on her face and ruin her eyeshadow. They fell slowly at first, but soon enough she was forced to run for cover under the deluge, barely making it under the roof of a gazebo with what must have been dozens of discarded cigarette butts lazily hidden under its benches. Someone should give the groundskeeper a raise, he was clearly slacking.
Samarie leaned against one of the pillars to catch her breath, shivering in the sudden cold. The clouds had seemed fine this morning so she'd dressed accordingly, in a black dress over a sleeveless white blouse. Another downside of being too skinny for your own good, no layer of fat to insulate you in the cold months. She closed her eyes and started rubbing her forearms for some warmth, more than used to the textured sensation of her scars, only to alert at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
The figure running towards the gazebo had a jacket over their collared blouse and pink skirt. A hood obscured her face, but Samarie recognised her instantly from the way she picked up her skirt to run. She should have fled. She wasn't ready. She'd never been this close to her before, not when they were both awake, but as Marina entered the gazebo, Samarie found that she couldn't move her legs.
Marina pulled her hood back and pulled her ashen pigtails free from her jacket, shaking her hair out before looking at Samarie with eyes of enchanting violet. Her three piercings glittered in her face, and that look, that damn look she gave Samarie, simultaneously curious and disaffected... It almost made her pass out on the spot. Samarie could feel her fingers twitching, somewhere, but she was barely even in her own body at the moment. Marina had walked up to her and snatched away her cognition without a word.
They kept staring at eachother for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Eventually, Marina cracked a smile that was more of a smirk, the kind of smile that Samarie imagined looming above her in her dreams like the face of the moon. She felt her heart skip a beat as her saviour parted her lips, and bestowed upon her the sound of her voice.
"Hello the-"
"I love you!"
"What?" Marina replied back in shock, the word exiting her mouth before she'd even fully processed what she had just heard. It felt like she'd just been blinded with high beams, rattling the suave and mysterious persona she'd tried going for. But could anyone blame her?! She'd been developing a crush on this girl for gods know how long, and now she just randomly says something like that? It felt like a cruel prank, but the maddened look in the taller girl's eye spoke differently...
"It's true! Marina, I've loved you for longer than I've known what love is! I-I have watched you since we were kids, I know you better than anyone!" the lanky, scarred girl began to ramble. Her tote bag slid off her shoulder and hit the wooden floor of the gazebo with a soft thud, but she didn't seem to notice. Her face kept shifting between a toothy, mildly unsettling smile and a look of sheer, heart stopping terror. "I've seen how you spend hours every morning just to get your makeup right, I know how you wake up every night just to finish the book you fell asleep to!"
"You... You've been stalking me?! I don't even know your name!" Marina said, deeply horrified at the invasion of her privacy, desperately trying to make sense of what she was hearing. The stranger cowered at her words, shying back and pulling at her hair as tears began to run down her gaunt cheeks.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Marina... I know it's wrong! I KNOW! AND I'M SORRY!" she screamed, sinking down to the floor with her back against a pillar, her voice breaking and body trembling. "I'm so sorry... You're all I have, the only thing in my miserable fucking life that's ever brought me anything but pain... You... you're the only reason I still have a life. You saved me! I wanted to tell you, I needed you to know how much you meant to me, but I'm a coward. I... You're right to hate me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Marina didn't know what to say, or even really what to feel. Three years ago, this broken, miserable person before her had been her inspiration. This girl who walked into the showers without a care in the world for what anyone thought of her myriad scars or bony frame, this girl who chose to dress like a 1920s vampire countess and had given Marina the courage to stop treating her transness like some dirty little secret... She knew that she was well within her rights to walk away. She didn't owe this self-confessed stalker anything. Logically, she should go.
But... maybe sometimes it was okay to make decisions based on emotion, instead. Worst case scenario, she could just push her over and run for the hills. Even after five years of estrogen she still had the strength to do that, at least.
"Hey..." Marina began, taking a step closer and causing the black-haired girl to flinch and stare up at her like she was expecting an axe to the neck. "What's your name?"
"S-Samarie. My name is Samarie." Samarie mumbled out, her face still frozen in what Marina could only describe as resigned fear. "Marina, I'm-"
"Shh, it's okay." Marina shushed as she crouched down so they were at eye level with eachother. "I'm not angry. Yes, you've done a very bad thing, and honestly I probably should be more upset at that... But first, I just want to know: Why do you love me?"
Samarie was quiet for a long moment, breathing heavily and making inconsistent eye contact. After a few seconds she screwed her eyes shut and swallowed the saliva in her mouth, before speaking once more. Her tone wasn't frantic or unhinged, just... sad. Defeated, almost.
"I don't like talking about it, but when I was a kid I was part of this... cult. The Ninth Circle." she began, lifting her arms and turning them so Marina could see the scars carved into her skin. Most looked consistent with self harm, but some Marina recognised as symbols of the old gods. Gro-goroth, Sylvian, even Rher... She could vaguely remember hearing something about the Ninth Circle on the news, about a girl who escaped and ended up exposing them. She connected the dots in her head, and her stomach turned at the realisation. "At first they just hurt and starved me, but as I got older..."
Samarie's words were cut off by a choked sob, and Marina's first instinct was to reach out and take her hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze, and the grateful look in Samarie's eyes nearly broke her heart.
"It's okay. You don't have to share anything you don't want to." she assured her, doing her damnedest to look as unintimidating as possible. Not that that was a common impression people got from Marina, but old habits die hard. Samarie nodded, her gaze flicking between Marina's eyes and their joined hands.
"It was the year you came out that changed things, when I saw the real you for the first time... You looked so happy, so alive, when you always seemed so miserable before! And... when I started spying on you, and I learned what'd happened with your parents... I realised escape was possible." Samarie continued, her thumb slowly gliding across Marina's hand like she was trying to memorise the texture of her skin. "...still took me five years to work up the courage, though. Like I said... coward."
"Hey, that's not cowardice. I... I can't begin to imagine what you went through, or what your mental state was like. The important thing is that you got out, okay?" Marina tried to comfort. She'd never really been good at this sort of thing, so she just said what she thought she herself might like to hear in this situation. Judging by the weak smile that appeared on Samarie's black-painted lips, it seemed to have worked.
"Thank you... But yes, that is how I grew to love you, Marina. You're my saviour. I... I know I've taken it a bit far, but I really do love you! Gods, it feels so good to finally say, and I know you don't feel the same but... I love you, Marina Domek." the goth finished, and the smile that lit up across her face almost brought Marina to tears. Samarie was just so... genuine. Clearly mentally unwell and with a history of troubling behaviour, yes, but her feelings weren't just the product of mad obsession. Samarie's love practically radiated from her eyes, an unearthly shine that contrasted beautifully against the darkness of her hair and garb.
"Hey, do you want to come back to my room and watch True Detective?" Marina suggested with a smile and another reassuring squeeze, choosing to listen to her heart. It had failed her before of course, but just as often led her to some of the best decisions she'd ever made. And yeah, maybe letting this manic pixie nightmare girl into her life would turn out to be a mistake, but that was her responsibility.
Plus, maybe Marina had a thing for strange and off-putting women. She's only human, after all.
"I..." Samarie breathed, her mouth opening and closing like a fish struggling to breathe on dry land. Her expression shifted from disbelief, to realisation, to fear, and finally to joy. "I think I would like that very much."
Marina let out a quiet laugh, then pulled Samarie into a hug.