Marceline's stomach growled, keeping her awake even during the hours of the night when she was supposed to be sleeping. With a lantern that burned in her room and a pot made of mud, which had water in it, she stared at it while running her hands on her stomach. The room was barely a room, with a divider for one to take a bath or do other necessary things.
There was no mirror, but there was a cupboard to place all the clothes one owned. There was a small table and a stool. But the room didn't have a fireplace to heat in this weather. There was
Sowhere in the back of her mind, she hoped her parents would co to rescue her from this mad pace, which was no less to an institution for the crazy mbers of society, who were unfit to walk among the sane.
According to Marceline, she had always been nice to people even though she didn't like them, she tolerated them even though they were beneath her. Yet look where her life had ended now, she thought to herself. She wondered if she wrote a letter to her father if he would co to collect her and bring her back to the mansion.
She quickly sat upright on her bed. Going to the desk that was present, she pulled out the parchnts and ink, before she started to write a letter to her father.
'Dear father,
I hope this letter finds you well. I know I have committed many mistakes in the past, but my childish innocence led to those actions. I only wanted to be loved, and to be part of the Moriarty family still as I have been until recently. I miss you, mother, little Allie, terribly. I regret my actions, and the more hours passed, the worse I feel. Please forgive , I will never do anything as such. I promise to be good, and I have been, haven't I? When the council mbers asked regarding Lady Camille's death, I helped our family. Please, father, show rcy and take out of this place. I feel suffocated and trapped.
Your loving daughter,
Marceline.'
Marceline quickly folded the parchnt and decided for the right ti so the guard could take it and send it to her father. But the vampiress was not sorry for the harm she had brought to Eve, and knowing it was because of that person that she was in this place, she despised her even more.
"She is deceiving everyone along with Vincent," Marceline muttered.
When the next day arrived, Marceline woke up feeling hopeful as she carried the letter she had written to her father in her dress pocket.
"It is ti to eat," she heard the loud voices of the guards, calling the inmates of the House of Purgatory, and soon one of the guards appeared in front of her gate.
Not knowing if she would find another ti later with the guard, Marceline quickly made her way to the front of her room and spoke to him in a polite voice, as he unlocked the gate,
"How long have you been working here?"
The guard stared at her, noticing how normal Marceline appeared as a person. As normal as any other person in this place, as everyone liked to behave like they were ntally sound until they got tired of it and behaved like their true selves.
"Seven," replied the guard.
"You like working here? I was thinking if you could help take a stroll around to know where I can and cannot walk. To know the rules of course," Marceline wanted to befriend the guard, but the guard only glared at her and responded to her,
"The guards are here to keep people like you in line, not to act as your servants."
The guard had dealt with enough people like Marceline to know the tricks and sches one ca up with. Marceline quickly said, "No no, I didn't an to offend you, Sire. I have a request to ask from you." She took out the folded parchnt from her dress pocket and stretched her hand towards him, "Please have this sent to my father. I promise that is all I wanted. Just this one letter to reach my father."
The guard briefly stared at Marceline and then took the folded parchnt from her.
"When will you send it?" Marceline asked him.
"Letters go out only on Saturdays and also you receive on that day. Not earlier than that," the guard replied before he reminded her, "The food is served down the hall. Follow the rest and you will find it."
Marceline nodded and offered a false bow that ant nothing. It would take only a week before her father would co for her, the vampiress thought to herself. She would think about how to fix her image once she was out of here. She had done it once, she could do it again, the vampiress thought to herself.
When Marceline stepped out of her room, she made sure that her footsteps were firm and that no one knew about her disability. She wouldn't let anyone ruin the reputation she had built for herself and would make sure to stand above the rest. With that thought, the vampires made her way to the hall where food was served.
On entering the wide and big room with a high ceiling, she saw three long tables, on top of which were food and blood.
"Finally," Marceline let out a sigh of relief. Even though the food wasn't fresh, she needed blood in her body.
But when she started walking towards the table, she noticed a lot of people's eyes falling on her. Her movents slowed down for a mont before she continued to walk forward with her chin up.
Before Marceline's hand could reach for food, soone caught hold of her hand, stopping her from reaching for the glass of blood. Turning annoyed, she turned to see who had dared, when her eyes slightly widened on seeing who it was.
"I didn't believe it when they said a woman was shouting and telling she was a Moriarty," said the woman, who had a scar on one side of her face.
"Delia…" Marceline whispered the na of the woman, whom she once knew. How could she forget… that the woman was here. The reason Delia Tallon was in here was because of her. But a few years had passed, and while Marceline's life had moved on with rrint and respect, it wasn't the sa for the woman who stood in front of her. "It is so good to see you, Delia!" Marceline offered a sweet smile as if thrilled and excited to see the human.
"You have so nerve to smile in front of ," Delia's eyes narrowed, before she raised her hand and punched Marceline's nose with force.
The people in the hall hooted, liking what they saw as they were all troublemakers, while so were depressed from living in the House of Purgatory for so long that they didn't care. Marceline stumbled backwards and covered her nose with her hand, which oozed blood.
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