𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞; 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

baby blues

maisy pov

it has been a week since we arrived back from boston- a week since i came home to find the place i tried so hard to make my first home destroyed.

growing up in a house and a home are two completely different things.

a house was a foundation built with walls, doors, and maybe a nice patio that you can sit outside on to watch people go about their daily lives. a place where there is a roof over your head to keep the rain from flooding the new carpet your parents had paid someone to do or the rain from ruining the couch where you had spent endless movie nights with while eating ice cream... alone.

a home was something i only found at the sturniolo household. marylou's hugs, jimmy's advice, justin's older brother like treatment, nic's jokes, matt's comforting smiles, and chris' craziness made me feel like i belonged. (ii want to add more to this)

it always blew my mind how we were two houses right next door to each other, maybe built by the same construction company, but my parents just so happened to buy the one with the cracked foundation.

or maybe we moved there that way. cracked, which eventually turned to broken.

how one house could have such an overwhelming amount of love while one had an eerie silence all of the time with lonely written all over it. you only knew if you came inside.

this is why it was so important to me that when i got a place to call my own, which happened to be with my best friend, i had to make sure it was the place i wanted it to be.

and our apartment was everything i wanted it to be. it was a small place filled with so much love, positivity, and light. it was the place i invited everyone over, a place we had countless sleepovers in. those walls have seen me at my best, on the rise of my career. the flooring has felt me slip and fall countless times. the bathroom sink has held me up on nights i didn't feel my best. my room was filled with reminders of who i am, wether that be one of my knick knacks or an eyelash that had somehow gotten stuck under my desk for weeks; this was MY home.

a home that was stripped from me.

the police haven't called avalon and i with any updates, so obviously they are coming up with nothing. i mean, they don't have much to work with. we had been gone and stupidly have never thought to have cameras installed.

to be honest, i don't even know if i want to know who did this. who had the decency to run the place to shred for a little money in their pocket, tear apart someone's memories and keepsakes to fill something empty within themselves.

since the incident, i have been having nightmares. every night, they looked different, but always contained my apartment in complete and utter pieces.

the first night was the only night they lacked, but i think that was due to the emotional and physical exhaustion i was facing from the plane ride straight into the wildfire without a second to breathe. but since then, three hours sleep is all i know.

we have gotten acquainted quite well; i think he may take me out on a date soon.

so, here i was, at four am... in the sturniolo kitchen chugging a glass of water while holding my chest.

i had gotten myself worked up, the most frantic ive been since the nightmares started. luckily i woke myself before it had gotten to the worst part, but even then i felt my chest getting tight, my throat closing up. no matter how hard i tried to breath its like the air was getting stuck. i needed something to calm myself down so i sprinted to the kitchen in a desperation for air.

i heard footsteps approaching from where i was resting on the counter. i expected it to be matt or avalon, considering his room was the closest to the kitchen, but i saw a tired chris rubbing his eyes as he approached.