I was cold.
I was freezing, shivering so violently that it hurt. I couldn’t feel my toes, let alone my fingers. My whole body had gone numb.
I remember that.
Which is why what didn’t make sense was the present, right now.
Because I was warm.
It wasn’t the hot you felt in the middle of summer, with sweat trickling down your arms and back and a cold water bottle always on hand. It wasn’t the warm you felt when you brushed your hands over your bare shoulders, relishing in that one small moment of heat before the temperature got the better of your skin.
It was good, proper and solid warm.
The kind of warm you felt when you first woke up on a winter morning and the air was a biting cold. The warmth of being in your bed, blankets upon blankets draped over your body, the heat trapped in between.
Warm.
Licking my dry lips, I curl up even tighter than I was before, reaching out my hand to scratch my nose. Rubbing my eyes, I reluctantly pull my eyelids open.
It was dark. Not the dark of a night sky, but of an enclosed room, with flecks of light threatening to take over.
I was lying on my side, facing a sullen blue wall. Lifting my head, I focus on the object closer in range; a bedside table. On it is a stack of books, including some of my favourites: The Hunger Games. Harry Potter. Percy Jackson and the Olympians. A Game Of Thrones.
A small smile cracks across my face. Books are another outlet of emotions for me. Reading a book, you don’t have to worry about your world; instead, you can slip into someone else’s, a different story, a different life.
You could escape.
Pushing out my arms, I slowly roll over onto my other side, pulling the covers up closer to my neck. I look down at them: a deep red colour, as thick as two or three hands, and with a faint black pattern on them.
Glancing at this other wall, I see the same colour. But something else captures my eye: a torch.
Not an electric torch that most people use today, but a real, medieval, fire-burning torch.
I frown at it, unsure of how to react. Who kept old fire torches in their bedroom? It was nice, sure, and pretty, with red and gold flames dancing their way into the air. It also helped to keep the room warm and slightly alight.
But why? Dimmed lights and electric heaters would work just as fine. Why risk the house going up in flames?
Unless…
What if this wasn’t a house? What if this was a dungeon?
Although it’s nice and warm, my hands begin to shake. Have I died? Was this a sort of waiting room, before I go to meet whoever it is that guards the next realm?
I’ve never been one for religion. I didn’t discriminate anyone who practiced it, but I personally never saw the point. They were all pretty much just asking me to believe an old story told a thousand years ago. I prefer facts, hard and solid.
Have I died?
I push over until I’m lying on my back. Rolling my eyes frantically, I freeze as I look at the wall opposite me.
This was no dungeon.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I sit up slightly and study what’s in front of me.
It’s a window. A large, gaping window, metres tall and wide. It nearly takes up the entire wall, save for the edges, where more fire torches are latched onto the dark surface.
And through its closed glass panes, I can see outside.
It’s the storm. Still raging, thrashing the branches of a nearby tree into the glass. The winds are strangling everything in sight, and rain is pouring down harder than ever. Lightning spears across the sky, dead trees of light against the backdrop of black.
Sighing in relief, I lay back down, taking deep breaths.
It’s the same storm.
I’m not dead.
I’m not dead.
Suddenly, I freeze.
There’s a noise, coming from behind me. I look back, at the final wall that has escaped my inspection.
There’s a door on it, slightly to the right of the bedhead. I watch as the handle turns and it opens to reveal one person.
Luke.
Gasping, I sit up, pulling the blankets even closer to my body. Looking down, I make sure all my clothes are intact; or as intact as they could possibly be, considering I’d just spent hours walking around in the rain.
“Hey, Maisie,” Luke smiles, walking in further with a tray of food in his hands. “You’re awake.”
His voice is low, calm and steady. He hasn’t done anything except help, I realise. He’s… amazing.
“You found me,” I breathe, unable to look away from his kind eyes. “I… I fell – and then, I don’t remember, I –”
“Hush, now,” he murmurs, laying the tray of food down on the bedside table and coming to sit next to me. “You were climbing the ladder, remember?”
I shake my head. “I –”
And then I remember, I remember it all: from the running to the dance to the more running to the ladder, climbing it, then slipping off…
Whimpering, I curl up into a ball, tucking my knees up to my chin.
“How?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You really thought I was just going to let you go after that incredible dance?” Luke chuckles softly. “I was trying to find you. Luckily, I did.”
“So where am I?”
“My house,” he replies. “Safe.”
“You saved my life,” I realise, my eyes widening. “Th-thank you.”
Standing up, Luke grabs a mug off the table and hands it to me.
“Hot chocolate,” he winks. “You must be starving.”
“What time is it?” I ask, unfolding my legs and taking the mug from him, sniffing it sceptically before taking a sip.
“Six a.m.,” Luke smiles as I go to drink more of what could possibly be the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours.”
“You carried me back?” I ask incredulously.
“You’re very light, you know. It was like carrying a feather.”
I bite my lip, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. Before I can decide, the unmistakeable sound of a stomach growling hit my ears. Blushing, I tuck a strand of soft, dry hair behind my ear.
“Here you go,” Luke laughs, laying the tray on the blanket, in front of my crossed legs.
Holding back a grin, I dive into the food; eggs and toast and juice and potato chips, which probably isn’t the most ideal breakfast, but I don’t care, it all just tastes so good. Munching on a bite of egg, I giggle as Luke’s hand darts out and snatches a chip away, dropping it into his mouth and smiling cheekily.
We both swallow and I freeze as Luke’s hand brushes my cheek, his fingers as light as a butterfly.
“You look so… beautiful when you smile,” he whispers, eyes wide in wonderment.
My cheeks redden ever more at this. And yet, I still cannot move, my cheek trapped in his hand. Luke’s eyes graze over my face, searching for something. Answers, maybe? An explanation as to why he’s doing this?
He leans in closer and my eyes widen. No, no, he can’t, he can’t do that, he can’t kiss me –
“Why are you running?” he whispers, words as soft as a butterfly’s.
Freezing, I force my body back and lean against the headboard.
“It’s a long story,” I say, crossing my arms.
Luke smiles, crossing his legs on the bed and finding a comfortable spot. “We’ve got hours.”
“You do,” I grumble, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t.”
“Well then talk quickly,” Luke’s eyes beseech me. “I’m sure I can keep up.”
Locked in his gaze, I sigh, dropping my eyes and fiddling with my cardigan. It’s a pretty cardigan, and my favourite, as it’s designed to sort of resemble a small cloak. It’s a deep green colour, and is knitted, not cotton. The sleeves reach my palms, and the hood is always there to throw over my head when the wind is strong.
“Have you ever,” I pause, taking a deep breath, hesitant, “…lost someone? Someone you were really close to?”
“Yes,” Luke replies simply.
I stretch my arms out and play with the green sleeves. “Have they ever… come back?”
Luke shakes his head. “No.”
Biting my lip, I twist my fingers together. “One of mine has.”
“Is that why you ran?” he asks softly.
I nod.
Sighing, he shuffles over next to me, so we’re shoulder to shoulder. I lace my fingers together once more, but this time it’s not out of sadness.
“Did they hurt you?” Luke asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say, the heat from his body forcing small butterflies to form in my stomach.
“Can you forgive them?”
I pause, thinking it over, scared of my own answer.
“I don’t know,” I reply finally, chewing on my lip. “I still think of her, but… I always lament over what has happened. What she’s done.”
“Maysilee,” Luke calls to me after a few minutes. I turn my head to look up into his eyes, those blue, blue eyes.
Slowly, gently, his slides his arm around my shoulders, the full force of his warmth encasing me like the heat from a fire.
“Talk to me,” he whispers, breath tickling my face as our lips are barely inches apart.
It’s time to fly or fall, Maisie, I think to myself. It’s time to sink or swim. Take the risk and make the plunge, or stay behind the safety ropes and never know what’s truly out there.
One more look into his eyes sealed the deal.
Out everything tumbled. From the day I was born to the first memories I ever had, to my sisters and school and all the fun adventures I went on. To growing up and working at the school, to acting and my sisters’ lives in the media.
“You sisters are Desirée and Isobelle Dillow?” Luke asks incredulously.
I nod. “I got the bad genes.”
“On the contrary,” he smiles, a finger grazing my cheek. “You got the beautiful ones.”
I blush to the roots of my hair, which is now curling around my waist, all dry and warm and fluffy.
“Anyway,” I try to continue while ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. “I got accepted into the school. When I reach seventeen, I can go.”
“Go?” Luke exclaims. “Maisie, that’s awesome!”
“Thanks,” I blush once more. “I’m actually… I’m kind of excited about it. It’s… exciting.”
Luke laughs, tapping my nose. “You’re a funny one, you are.”
“Sure,” I giggle, ducking my head and twisting my hair behind an ear.
“So your sisters, did they go to this school as well?”
“No,” I bite my lip. “They auditioned, but I am the only one who has gotten in.”
Luke whistled. “You must be a really good actress, then.”
“I try,” I wink.
“So do they know?” he asks. “About this person who’s hurt you?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, dropping my eyes.
“Why don’t you call them then?” Suddenly, there’s my phone in his hands. Creasing my brow, I give him a worried look, before reluctantly taking it out of his hands.
Flipping it over, I press the on button. To my surprise, it actually works, even after being out in the rain for hours. Shaking my head, I tap in a number and hold it to my ear, grabbing Luke’s hand nervously.
“Hello?” the line clicks open.
“Hi, Izzy –”
“MAYSILEE JADE DILLOW!” Isobelle yells down the phone.
Luke raises an eyebrow.
“WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I’VE BEEN –”
“I can explain –”
“ – IF I KNEW WHERE YOU WERE I WOULD – ”
“Please, Izzy, keep it PG.”
“Where are you?” Izzy finally lowers her voice. “Everyone’s been worried sick. Are you safe? Have you been kidnapped?”
“I’m fine, Izzy,” I reassure her. “I’m warm, and I’m safe. Relax.”
I hear her exhale loudly. “When are you coming home? Are you coming home?”
I hesitate. “Yeah, yeah… I am.”
“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Isobelle prays. “I was – I was so scared you wouldn’t – I mean, I’m tough and all, but without you –”
“Chill out,” I smile sympathetically. God, I love my sisters. “I would never leave you guys.”
“Yeah… yeah, I know that,” Izzy scoffs at herself. “Stupid, stupid.”
“So…” I look at my fingers entwined with Luke’s, his thumb stroking mine, sending shivers up my arms. “How is… how are things?”
“They’re… interesting,” Izzy allows. “We’ve talked, but… she wants to see you. Properly.”
Luke sends me a silent question with his eyes. Shaking my head, I look back at our hands.
“Listen, Izzy, I’ve got to go,” I mutter. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Wait, Maisie –”
I wince as I tap the end call button.
“Crunch time…” Luke sings softly. “To go, or not to go?”
“That is the question,” I reply, dropping the phone into my lap.
What was I going to do? I could stay here, and be warm and happy. Luke is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met… not to mention those shivers he always gives me.
But if I stayed here, how would I ever know what happened at my home? What if I was too coward to go back? Face your fears, everyone says. What if I had to face this one?
Luke takes one look at my face and immediately opens his arms. Without realising it, I jump into them, laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm, a lullaby tempting my mind to sleep… Something solid and real, that would always be here.
“I had a friend, once,” Luke murmurs into my hair.
“Really?” I ask softly. “What was their name?”
“Laney,” he whispers, a smile spreading across his face.
“Laney,” I test it out. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Yes, it is,” he says. “This Laney, you see, she was my best friend. We met when we were only the beginnings of teenagers. We became the closest of friends, so close that we could almost read each others’ thoughts. We would invent games, go to school, and cook grotesque masterpieces for our home economics class together.”
“Sounds like a good friend,” I smile.
“She was,” Luke’s voice becomes far off and distanced, but quickly returns. “Well, whenever we were upset or needed to vent, we always just turned to each other. And there was this small saying that Laney lived by. After I had told her all my problems and fears, she’d walk up to me, cup my face, and whisper them to my forehead. And suddenly, I’d feel better, and happier.”
“Past tense,” I whisper suddenly.
“What?”
“Past tense, Luke. You’re talking in past tense.” I turn my head to look into his eyes. “What happened?”
He looks down at our hands, still tied together. “She’s... lost. I lost her.”
My heart swells in sympathy, but I don’t know what to do, or what to say. So I simply look at our hands too, and relax into his muscled chest, feeling safe from the world.
I don’t know how long we lie there. It could be seconds, minutes, hours. It could be days, weeks, months, even years. Time doesn’t tick the way it does in the normal world. The only thing I’m aware of is Luke, and our heartbeats, and the fire torches, and the rain.
“It’s still going?” I ask, disbelieving.
“Yup,” he chuckles. “Hasn’t stopped pouring and storming for almost a day now.”
“Wow…” I say intelligently, before snuggling back down.
“Nope!” Luke sits up, pulling me with him. “You have to go. You know that.”
I frown, sitting up properly and moving away, crossing my legs. “But… it’s nice here. And safe.”
“But you’ll never be happy until you go out there and confront whoever it is you need to confront,” Luke folds his arms knowingly. “I’ll still be here if things don’t work out.”
Reluctantly, I stand up, pushing my hair out of my eyes and attempting to make myself look presentable.
“And if things do work out?” I ask in a small voice, staring intently at my toes. “What about then?”
I hear the creak of Luke getting up from the bed. I bite my lip, still staring at the ground as I hear the thud of soft footsteps coming closer to me. Suddenly, there’s a finger under my chin, lifting my head up to meet Luke’s brilliant blues eyes. I freeze, staring into them. They’re like the blue of the ocean on a warm summer’s day, waves rolling over sand like butter over bread.
His face is bare centimetres from mine. I can feel his breath across my cheeks, warm and soft and delicious. His eyes search my face, a small smile on his lips. He wraps his arms around my waist in one fluid motion before lowering his head.
When his lips touch mine, it’s… magic. That’s the only way I can describe it. I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with his hair, deepening the kiss. He pulls me tighter to him, so tight that my feet almost lift off the ground. Our lips move together in sync, perfectly made for each other, as I close my eyes and watch the fireworks show come alive.
Finally, I pull away, resting my forehead against his. My stomach is still rattling, my heart still performing backflip upon backflip. We’re both panting, in awe of what just happened. I open my eyes to meet Luke’s once more, who is staring at me so intently that I am paralysed.
He moves suddenly, cradling my face with both hands and pulling his lips to my forehead.
“Remember this, Maysilee,” he kisses the skin. “Tomorrow will be kinder.”
I grab his hands, memorising the feel of right here, right now; our bodies pressed against each other, hands holding my cheeks, heartbeats working overtime. I give him one more fleeting kiss before turning away, racing out the door, through the hallway and out onto the desolate street.
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Epilogue will be up tomorrow!!! :D Tell me what you think, please? :)