Fifteen

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MAISIE

Noah extended a hand, golden veins in his forearm, swirls of dust falling like snow, sprinkling the air like shredded bits of medallions, Maisie looked at his palm like it were a trick rather than an opening.

A chance.

She was reluctant as if her acceptance of his help would end in doom-like he'd pull her through a pulsing, fleshy, violet portal, another world, one where it always led her back this moment of judgement, to these walls that held its breath, that held a heartbeat of its own, that held its tongue, her childhood home was alive, the house was listening. Its voice stolen.

Could she trust him? Would he take her somewhere better or worse? Somewhere warm? Safe?

When her skin touched his, would he convulse and melt and seep in between the crevices of the floorboards then morph and grow into the likeness of her mother, only so tall that the lookalike would have to hunch-to curve its spine forward so its head didn't hit the ceiling, only with buttons sewn into its eyes? Only with a gaping hole as a mouth? Only to devour Maisie like candy?

It was such silly, childish imagery.

'It's going to be okay,' he said after a long moment. She saw the white lie lift from his tongue, the unsure shape it takes, every slight shift that leads to its final mold. A crooked circle, never-ending, all-consuming, wrong. It's going to be okay. He's trying to believe it, too.

Her mind flashed back to the day she'd first seen him, its blurry because they'd met when they were extremely young-toddlers-but based on Maryjane's and Nadine's recollections, it involved the concept of rescuing another, Maisie had slipped and cried on the pavement, and Noah had been there, he'd comforted her-and then her thoughts flickered to the day she had almost drowned. Just a month ago. He'd saved her, again. And again.

Was it always him? Not just to her but did he save Saffron, too? Nereus, Nico, Sawyer... Was he simply born kind? Or was it his cursed fate to save everyone around him? Was he in possession of a single selfless bone in his entire anatomy structure? Did he want to be a hero? Hers? Everyone's?

She had so many questions to ask him.

His expression grew alarmed, both brows raised, her gaze followed the way his shining scar slightly stretched over one of his eyes. 'Maisie, come on,' he encouraged her to take his hand, they didn't have much time. 'Your mother will be back soon,' he whispered, then.

She paused for a brief heartbeat before reaching out. His deep eyes find hers, and bore through her as if he saw something more than just a scared girl. Something paranormal.

Without warrant, the sound of a wooden door shuddered from the other side of the house, the floorboards squeaking, which resulted in Noah grabbing her wrist before she can take his hand herself. He spun into the closet, still holding her, and quietly shut the closet, darkness enveloping the duet. Noah pressed her to the wall, his body hovering over her own.

They both inhaled sharply at once. Holding their breaths. She could hear his heartbeat. The following footsteps are eerily quiet almost like they don't want to startle a slumbering cat of sorts. Was that why Maisie never heard her mother?

Was she really creeping around in her own house to drive her mad with such dead silence. It was as if she'd been buried six feet under in a coffin these past few days. Completely isolated.

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