The Maple Leaf

Eight: A Room For Two

He wasn't used to sarcasm. He wasn't used to jokes at all. His responses were nervous grins instead of laughs, which he began to overthink as being weird. But what was weird in a place like where they were? How could an odd smirk be weird in a place where things crawled after you in a shrinking hallway? Yet, it felt odd all the same. It was another item to add to William's growing list of the inexplicable.

"Was someone in that other room?"

"Sure. She lived there for a long time. But she was a lot different from me... very big. Couldn't even fit through the hole after a while." She said.

"You were able to visit each other?"

"Well, we weren't allowed to. But we did."

William's interest was piqued. Having someone to visit at all was such a foreign concept. There's no way that Father would allow such a thing with him. Why would there be a window to each other's rooms if visiting was against the rules? Another thing bothered William the most, though. Why did Father allow the other girl to get so big? He would barely give enough rations to William to survive the day and, from the look of it, the girl he was talking to endured no different.

"Paris." She said.

"What's that?" William asked.

"My name. What's yours?"

"Oh. I'm William."

She was noticeably calm like someone had picked her up like a wet towel and wrung out her fear into a sink to drain away. For some reason, it made him uncomfortable. He stood up, still holding the top of his aching head. He walked over to the lantern and realized it was no use trying to get it down.

"You'll find everything to be just out of reach in here." She said.

"How does he light it?" He asked.

"I'm never in here when he does."

He turned around and leaned against the cold wall. "I stabbed him with a nail. Right in his neck." Said William, staring thoughtfully at the dimly lit ground. "I should have kept going until I was sure he was dead, but..."

"Wow. I doubt he had that in mind today. Where'd you get a nail from?" She said.

"Another girl lived under my room. Without her help, there would have been no nail at all."

Paris looked him over and could sense a sadness in him. She stood up and leaned against the wall as well, mimicking William, and searched for something to say.

"She must have had a lot of faith in you. Didn't even know you and she still helped, knowing the consequences." She said.

"That's the thing. After what she went through, the least I could have done was make damn sure he was dead. But of course, I ran."

"The least you could have done was make sure that you stayed alive. I'm sure she would've wanted that most of all." Said Paris.

William looked at Paris, fighting the terrible pain under his eyes and the trembling in his lips. He clenched his teeth and his body stiffened.

"Yeah." He managed to spit out under his breathe. She walked closer to him.

"Will. I haven't talked to someone in a long time. I mean, really talked with someone."

"I've never really talked to someone at all, besides Father." He said, his face feeling hot and beginning to hurt from holding in the tears.

"I know we don't know each other at all," she said, "but I think we know how the other feels. Probably a lot of what the other is thinking. There's not much to think about down here, you know. Yeah, how to escape and when's my next meal and all that, sure. But you did something. You may have just fallen into another pit, but you acted on those thoughts. I mean, I can't imagine how exhausted you must be. Or how completely terrified."

Her eyes swelled with tears. After so long alone in that room, another person had simply dropped from the ceiling and into her company. An actual person. A human being with whom she could talk to and see and not be afraid for her own life around. It was as if, for a moment in time, she was given a moment to escape from that place. She wanted to talk to him forever. To escape absolute hell, for her, was in a simple conversation. It was safe to say that William shared in that sentiment.

Paris took William's hand, his eyes glossed and guilt-ridden. "Have you ever had a hug before?"

"Yes." He said.

She walked close and put her arms around him and William did the same. It was a moment of warmth that cut into the cold, rough walls surrounding them. Not all of the tears they let out had found their way to the floor but instead, they seeped into their sleeves. The embrace was as unpracticed as it was needed. There was no sexuality or questions of deceit. There were no feelings of friendship or ownership. It was instinct. It was medicine.

"Have you ever been hugged?" He asked, feeling rib bones beneath his arms.

"No." She said, feeling the same beneath hers.