Paranoia

[VoltTurtle]

[+] Content Warning

CW: Homophobia

Marceline still couldn't believe that it had worked.

Her thumb flicked across the length of her phone screen, scrolling through the last few day's messages with Dolly as she reread them all over again. Almost two weeks ago, she had finally swallowed her pride and asked Dolly out after school. She hadn't thought it would work. She had thought that there was no way Dolly was actually gay, or that she would somehow mess up the delivery, or that she just wasn't worth going out with, but Dolly said yes! Which meant that she had a girlfriend now. She had a girlfriend now!

No matter how often Marceline repeated it to herself, she couldn't get over that fact. She wasn't one of those useless lesbians that never got the nerve to actually ask a girl out, she had really done it! Now she was stuck giddily rereading her messages, cherishing all the jokes that had already passed between them, all the compliments they had shared with one another, and all the warm fuzzy feelings that thinking of her girlfriend brought her, a contented smile plastered on her face all the while.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Sunflower?"

The distinctive twang of her father's voice cut through her manic haze, bringing her crashing back to reality. Her father spoke with a very thick Appalachian accent, making him sound much more like the stereotypical southerner than most of the people around Chattanooga. She could likely trace her own mild twang to growing up listening to him speak, though her accent wasn't nearly as thick as her father's, being tempered by the locals and her northern-hailing mother. He also brought with him that typical southern hospitality when he spoke, which meant that he was constantly trying to be social to everyone. This had the unfortunate side effect of yanking her out of her own head, even when she would rather be left well enough alone.

At the moment, Marceline was currently trapped in the back of the family car, being driven by her father to the shooting range for their monthly Saturday trip. Or, rather, she was being driven to her father's impromptu shooting range. Her grandparents—his parents—had left behind their land for him and his siblings. It was originally just going to be sold and the money split between them, but her father had enough money from the gun store that he was able to buy it all from them. It was roughly a two hour trip outside of Chattanooga, and it had become a family tradition of sorts to come out for a week during the summer, but was also used for these more frequent, shorter excursions.

Her dad was always much quieter when they were there. Much more thoughtful and patient, too. It was a nice contrast with his usual nosy, loud, boisterous self. Though, that was only so long as they didn't go anywhere near the shooting range he had set up. Something about the crack of gunfire must get his blood pumping.

On that note, Marceline hoped that nobody would hear the noise once they got there. From what she understood, setting up a shooting range without the proper permits wasn't exactly legal even if it was taking place on private property. She knew that it wasn't like there was anyone around to stop them this far out of town. She knew that they had never had any problems before, the dozens of other times they had come out here. Nonetheless, she found the possibility worrying. The last thing she wanted was to have the cops rolling up on them.

"N-nothing, dad," Marceline responded, upon realizing that she had been silent for some time.

"Aw, well, I just hadn't seen ya smile in so long. Wanted to know what had finally done it."

"It was," she started to say, before pausing, and trying to avoid letting the real details slip, "just a funny cat photo, that's all."

She had told her mother about the new relationship last week, and her younger brother Danny yesterday. She could've told either of them the truth just now, but her father still didn't know, and she was dreading the thought of having to tell him. She had heard enough casual homophobia escape his lips to know that he wouldn't take it well, no matter what. There wasn't really any avoiding it, though. She wasn't going to allow him to force her to repress herself with his mere presence. She was proud that she was gay, and she wasn't going to let anyone or anything hold her back from being herself.

That being said, she still didn't want to tell him. There would be a right time, eventually. She hoped.

Marceline put her phone down, reaching up and curling her black locks between her fingers. She stared at her painted-black nails as they danced among her artificially blackened hair, as her symmetrical, dark blue highlights hung on either side of her peripheral vision. It was probably time for her to switch up her look, she had been rocking black-on-black for so long now. Dolly had suggested that she would look good with pastels, but Marceline wasn't so sure about that herself. She was certainly willing to give it a shot though, she just needed to figure out the mix of colors and get a new wardrobe, shouldn't be too hard.

"We're gettin' close!"

Marceline leaned over, looking out the window and seeing her grandparent's cottage approaching in the distance. The mere sight of it now called forth the smell of sulfur and the feeling of recoil rattling her frame. Gone were the days where the sight made her reminisce about the smell of fresh biscuits and warm hugs from her grandparents. This place was for the gun show now, and the full display of her father's rabid paranoia. He was convinced that if he didn't teach her how to shoot—or more specifically, how to murder someone in self defense—then that meant that someone would eventually make her into a victim.

She knew that it almost came from a good place, that he was trying to look out for her in his own way, but it was clear that one too many bad action movies and horrible news stories had rotted his brain. She didn't want to be an armchair psychologist, but it was obvious that he was paralyzed with fear of the faceless masses and the unknown in general. Why else would he be teaching her how to fight and kill people? Why else would he have promised her a free gun as soon as she was old enough to legally own one? She didn't need to know these things, she didn't want to hurt anyone. Yet nonetheless, he insisted. So she would always go, if only to shut him up.

"And we made it, safe and sound!"

As soon as her father announced their arrival, Marceline flung open the side door, stepping out of the car in a mild daze, the crunch of the driveway's gravel underneath her feet. Before, that sound would bring her some level of excitement. Now, thanks to her dad, it was nothing but another noise. She gave one last glance at her phone, before sliding it into her pant pocket. Normally the pockets of women's jeans wouldn't be big enough to fit a phone, but thankfully she wasn't wearing women's jeans. She had gotten a few sets of black men's jeans back when she had decided to embrace the black-on-black aesthetic, and it had been a great investment to avoid having to carry around a purse all the time.

The car trunk slammed closed a few feet away, causing Marceline to flinch. That sound signaled that her father had finally gotten everything out of the trunk. The guns, the hearing protection, and the ammunition. Everything prepared for a little bit of shooting practice. Instinctively, absentmindedly, Marceline began to move towards the part of the field where her father's makeshift targets and sandbags had been set up. It was a wide clearing with a small shooting gallery set up, much of the surroundings having returned to nature long ago, wild plants and grasses growing all the way up to her knees, insects coming out in droves and bees happily buzzing their way wildflower to wildflower. Even now, with everything her dad had done to ruin her memories of this place, it was still pretty to look at. At least her dad couldn't take that away from her, as much as he tried.

"Alright, Sunflower," her dad said, approaching her from behind, cases in hand. "Let's see if you can beat your previous best."

Marceline initially didn't turn to face him, her gaze instead fixated on the view. Eventually, though, after what felt like a long enough pause to show her disdain for being here, but not quite a long enough one for her dad to actually say anything about it, she turned, taking the rifle case out of her father's hands and bringing it over to rest on the gallery stand, slowly assembling the rifle from its constituent pieces in a rote, memorized way. Her father made sure to place the earplugs and muffs next to her, as he always did, before taking a seat on a nearby stool, clay pigeons in hand.

"Alright, first, stationary targets. Let's see my little girl in action!"

Marceline rolled her eyes at the 'little girl' comment, but didn't say anything. Her father already treated Danny like he was a grown man and her as if she were still a child, despite the fact that she was both older and significantly more capable than Danny was at basically everything. If she wanted to bring it up to him and get him to treat her like her actual age, it would need to be over something bigger than his minor appellations for her. If she brought it up now, he'd just get defensive and completely miss the bigger picture. That was how it always was, with him.

She put the now assembled and loaded rifle down on the gallery, stuffing the earplugs into her ears and placing the earmuffs on top, as her father did the same with just his own earmuffs. She appreciated that he was doing his best to protect her hearing, at least, though she doubted it was because he cared about her career as a musician. He didn't really understand what the whole deal with her band was, and didn't seem to be too fond of the music they made. Beyond Human's sound was probably too weird and experimental for him, given that his taste seemed to be entirely limited to bad country music and whatever pop song had topped the charts most recently. At least he was vaguely supportive in the sort of distant way that a parent who doesn't quite approve but doesn't want to say anything would be.

Picking the rifle back up, Marceline began to load it with the loose bullets sitting in the case, before taking aim at the distant targets, her eyes lined up with the iron sights. The gun was an old Remington Model 700, and it was probably her favorite gun to fire, mostly because she had fought and won the right to be able to use it. In the past, whenever they went to an actual shooting range as a family, her father always insisted on her using measly .22 cartridges while her brother was consistently allowed to use bigger ones, like the .308 cartridge currently loaded into the rifle. She thought it was clearly unfair, Danny was smaller than her then—and still was, for that matter—and yet her father didn't let them use the same size guns. It was only after an argument that her dad finally let her use the big ones, and as it turned out—

Marceline pulled the trigger, a deadened eruption rattling her frame, the bullet impacting the target directly in its center, an explosion of sand signalling the hit.

—she was a pretty good shot.

"Woo-wee!" Her father exclaimed from behind her. "Name one girl that can out shoot my eagle-eyed Marcy here. First shot and she got a bullseye. You're the best, darlin'!"

Marceline cracked the slightest smile at the compliment. Despite her complicated relationship with her dad and her general disdain for these trips, she just couldn't help it, his excitement was infectious. Though, the compliment wasn't exactly all that accurate. She could probably name a few girls just from her school that could out shoot her, given the distant details that she knew about Faith and Erika. Beryl might be a better shot too, though she had never really tested Beryl's accuracy, and there was always the chance she would fall unconscious in the middle of the contest, as she often did.

What followed after that was fairly ordinary for their trips. Marceline took shots at the standing targets, and eventually her dad would decide to take out the clay pigeons and have her take shots at them as they flew through the air instead. She hit some, missed some, hitting a few more than she did last time. Same as every other instance.

What was different was what was weighing on her mind. The whole time her thoughts kept returning to Dolly, thinking about how much she would rather be with her and not here. How her father still didn't know despite sitting a few feet away from her, trying his best to bond with her despite their differences. How she didn't want to have to hide herself from him just to avoid the backlash. Then, she thought, if there was ever a time to tell her homophobic father that she was gay, it was probably when she was holding a gun and he wasn't.

She kept running through exactly what she would say in her head over and over again. The exact phrasing that she would use, canned responses for anything that her dad could say. The exact turns of phrases for how she would slowly lead into it, break the ice as gently as possible. Except, no matter what she came up with, none of it sounded right. All the while, she kept second guessing herself, never quite sure if anything she was coming up with would even sound right.

When the shooting finally stopped, when the smoke cleared and the stench of gunpowder finally subsided, as her dad was beginning to pack everything up to leave, Marceline knew that she either told him right now, or she never would.

So, in lieu of having a detailed plan, she decided to speak from her heart.

"Uh, dad," she began, taking the earmuffs off and earplugs out, already unsure of herself and fumbling over her words. "There was something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Immediately, her dad seemed to sense something was wrong, tensing up and giving her a concerned look.

"Uh... yeah? What is it, Sunflower?"

"I just, um," she muttered, clutching the rifle more tightly in her hands as stress already began to build. "I started a relationship. I'm dating now."

"Aww, shucks," her father replied, his muscles relaxing as his look of concern was replaced with a smile. "Well, what's the lucky fella's name-"

"With another girl," she stated, flatly, cutting her father off, ignoring her heart hammering in her chest. "Because I'm gay."

Her father's smile disappeared just as quickly as it came. He initially didn't say anything in response, instead opening his mouth as if to speak only to close it again. An excruciatingly long pause passed between them, Marceline remaining quiet, opting instead to observe her dad's emotional state, hoping he wouldn't completely lose it.

"Are you sure about that?" Her father asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes, I'm sure-"

"Was it something I said?" He continued, steamrolling past her response. "Did I make ya afraid of men, with all the talk about them taking advantage of ya?"

"No, dad, I-"

"Or is this just part of yer rebellious phase? You go dyeing your hair black and now-"

"DAD," she screamed, finally losing her temper. "Stop interrupting me!"

To her surprise, he complied, if only for a moment.

"I'm gay," she continued, trying to ignore the tears already welling up in the corners of her eyes. "And it isn't a phase. This is just who I am, okay?"

"What about yer mom? You know she wants grandchildren-"

"I already told her," she replied. "And she accepted me, immediately. She said I was brave for being honest with her."

"Well, uh, what about the rest of the family, Marcy?" He asked, visibly taken aback. "What will they think when they hear about this?"

"Dad, I don't care what they think," she snapped, through gritted teeth. "I care about what you think."

"Well, I think I love you, Marcy," he replied. "I just think that you're maybe not thinkin' this through enou-"

"Stop."

"-and yer still young. Maybe you just haven't met the right guy-"

"Stop."

"-and maybe if you do then you'll realize that you were actually normal all along-"

"STOP," she screamed once more, now fully crying. "Just stop talking. Let me speak."

Her father finally relented, silently staring at her, his expression unreadable through her tears.

"You say you love me," she continued. "But do you love me for who I really am, or do you love some imaginary version of me that only exists in your head?"

"Sunflower, I-"

"I'm not done," she asserted, blinking away the tears. "I'm going to be honest with you. No matter what you say here, I am going to be gay, and I'm never going to stop being gay. Right now, you're deciding whether or not you have a gay daughter who will stay in your life, or a gay daughter you will never see again in a few years time."

Her father remained silent.

"Those are your options. It's up to you."

There was an unbearably long period of silence between them, her father visibly struggling for words. Marceline remained silent, doing her best to remain strong despite the rapid beating of her heart and the clamminess of her hands. Whatever he said now didn't really matter, she had done what she set out to do. If he didn't want to accept reality, that was on him, and not her.

"I," her father started to say, his mouth hanging open for an instant as he visibly contemplated what he was saying. "I love you, Sunflower. Not some fake version of you. God made you who you are for a reason, and I guess if this is really what you want, then...

"...I won't tell ya what to do."

Marceline exhaled through her nose, slowly, almost as if it were a sigh of relief. It wasn't much, but it was something. Her father's choice of words was deliberate, much of their meaning hidden behind them. He wasn't accepting her and who she was, merely expressing that he wouldn't fight her about it. There was no doubt in her mind that he would never be comfortable with who she really was, but if he wasn't going to fight her about it, that was enough.

"Thank you," she replied, wiping the tears from her eyes. "We can go now."

Wordlessly, the two of them packed up their belongings in unison and returned to the car, Marceline giving one last look at the wild fields before shutting the door and buckling in.

The ride home that followed was long, and silent.