“Pass.”

“What? You didn’t even give it a chance yet!”

“You said it’s a book that jumps around from character to character?”

“Yeah, and that's what I love about it! All of the characters are my absolute favorite and I think they can be yours, too!”

“No, Maisie, you're wrong. Hard pass.”

Maisie wondered what would happen if she shoved the book into his hands and ran away giggling.

Then she thought better of it.

No use asking a third time. Prince was his own person, and he probably liked different things. Maisie could relate. She wasn't fond of grape-flavored things or subway rides or movies where the hero died at the end. She was fairly certain she didn't like taxes, but she'd never bought any so she wasn't sure yet.

Prince upped his pace, mindful of the cold. Maisie matched him step for step.

The two of them walked alongside the East river. Twin pairs of boots crunched over frozen dirt and snow-dusted grass. A flurry of wind rushed past them, disrupting the water and making the branches sway.

Prince shivered, full-body, and twisted his fists deeper into his pockets.

Maisie was too cold to shiver. The wind ripped into her and stole her warmth. It was so bad now. Maisie thought of mice nipping at her ears and fingers and imagined it would feel the same.

"Rough one out here," Prince said, "Think I'm gonna head back."

Maisie nodded sheepishly. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day with him, the cold was getting to her, too.

Prince unbuttoned and unzipped the collar of his jacket and removed the bright yellow scarf from underneath. He passed it to Maisie, then stopped, letting it dangle between them.

"Hey, I liked wearing this. Mind if I keep it? Trade you for a kiss."

Maisie’s heart fluttered. A kiss from Prince was all she wanted. She would trade a million yellow scarves and it would all be worth it for a kiss.

She reminded herself to stop and think like an adult. Would Jules or Charley take this deal?

No. They already loved each other, and kissing Prince would be cheating. Maisie couldn't use the 'think-like-an-adult' strategy, which meant she had to think for herself.

She looked at the scarf. It was her favorite of the two scarves she owned. Better color, better material.

Then she looked at Prince. So unbelievably tall for eleven years old. Such a nice boy, but Maisie knew he could fight. He wore good clothes; button-ups and sweater vests, everything name brand. Nice shoes, nice hair. Never seen without at least one accessory to bring it all together. He said nice things and knew a lot about history. He was the whole package. As dreamy as a boy could be.

"Yes, of course I accept," Maisie said, trying not to sound eager.

"I knew you would," Prince said, "Would you like it now or later?"

Maisie smiled wider. Prince was so great at setting up this sort of thing. Always awkward with the follow-through. Too cute to handle. A tiny voice screamed in the back of her head.

"You pick," Maisie said, shyly.

"Ok."

Prince took a step towards her and stooped. Maisie closed her eyes and craned her head.

And Prince planted a kiss on her cheek.

Everything went warm and fuzzy then. Butterflies in her head, in her chest, in her stomach. Making it hard to think or move.

Prince touched her chin, and the feeling started all over again.

“Aha,” she said.

“You okay?” Prince asked.

Maisie nodded fervently.

“Ok, good. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not,” Maisie said, “I won’t.”

Prince nodded, wearing a look of pure satisfaction. Maisie smiled.

Then watched him turn and go. No goodbye.

Never a goodbye. Charming in its own quirky way.

Maisie huffed, still winded by that precious kiss. Nearly all of her senses were shot. She listened as fairies played harps and violins in her ears, easing her into a calm state. The world looked and felt more colorful. Deeper browns, bluer blues, and full whites surrounded her. She tasted the boy's cologne and felt his lips on her cheek; a tickling sensation.

A gust of wind howled in her ears, reminding her of the snow and the cold. Maisie resumed walking, spurred on by the nasty weather. Wind pierced through her thin white jacket. Poking and scraping at her face.

None of it bothered her. It was hard to feel miserable with romance on the mind.

The memory of the kiss warmed her on her way.

♠

Maisie picked up a chunk of coal, cradling it between two hands. It had a chalky texture and left smudges of ash all over her palms.

She cupped her hands and squeezed as if she herself could warm the rock. If she squeezed and squeezed, the coal would get warmer and maybe catch fire. Then she could do the same for the rest of the bag.

Charley looked at her funny, then pried the stone from her hands.

"Don't hurt yourself, little one," he said to her. He tossed the stone into the open stove. A single metal clunk echoed.

The stove was Charley's prized possession. He'd been searching for one for weeks. Junkyards, flea markets, moving sales. He hadn’t been able to find anything that was intact or affordable.

Today he'd done it. He'd haggled with one of the local business owners until they’d sold him the floor model at a discount. Now it sat in the center of their squat living room, next to half a bag of coal Charley’d scavenged from a dumpster. Short with a slate finish. Decorative ridges were fashioned into the legs and the tiny hatch door. A narrow pipe extended halfway to the ceiling, topped with a stripe of yellow paint.

Charley tossed a few more charcoals into the open hatch before giving up and hefting the bag. He awkwardly maneuvered the bag next to the hatch and dumped the contents.

Half of the coals missed their mark and went skittering across the tile floor.

“Darn and fetch!” he swore, dropping the empty bag.

Maisie hurried to retrieve the scattered nuggets, starting with the ones only she could reach. She crouched next to the fridge and shimmied her arm into the gap. Her fingertips tapped the lost lump, barely out of reach. She made clawing motions.

Charley pulled the fridge out of the way. Maise snatched the coal and brought it close to her chest.

“Good job,” he said to her, “Now let’s get the rest.”

Jules joined them as they collected the last of the coal pieces. She rubbed a circle into Maisie’s back in passing, then took a seat against the wall.

"I can feel the heat already! Must be the excitement!" she said.

"Come on, don't say that," Charley said, "You gotta feel the real deal!"

He disappeared into the bedroom. When he returned, he was triumphantly touting a large container of lighter fluid.

"I went ahead and got us the biggest size they had. Should last us the rest of the winter!" Charley proclaimed.

Maisie smiled and applauded. When her mom didn't do the same, she turned and saw the look of caution.

Why did she look so scared during a happy moment? Did fire scare her?

Maisie could imagine why the fire might scare Jules. For one thing, her hair looked highly flammable. Straight, brown, and choppy, like a bundle of firewood had been smushed around her head. Maisie's hair looked similar, but she'd taken the time to smooth it out, and she'd added a bow.

Charley drenched the coals in the stove, then capped the container. He withdrew a newspaper from the floor and bundled it up, lit it, and tossed. The paper ball bounced to the back of the stove.

A few seconds later, a fire sprung up.

With a slight screech, Charley closed the hatch. Then, he faced his family and took a bow. Maisie renewed her applause, hooting and laughing with content. She elbowed her mom, who offered no applause.

"Come on, mom, cheer up! It'll be warm in here in no time!"

Jules shook her head slowly.

Half a minute later, the stove went dark.

Charley, who had just been getting comfortable on the floor, stood, grabbing the container of fluid.

"Just needs some more juice to get it going," he said, removing the lid.

Jules stood and cupped a hand over the container before he could pour.

"You're going to waste it," she said, being careful not to sound rude.

"Huh? No, it needs a pinch more to get going. Not gonna dump a whole lot," Charley explained.

Jules found the lid and resealed the container.

Charley dropped it, making Maisie flinch.

"You gonna light the fire, then, is that it?" he asked, "Hurry up, then, I'm freezing. Maisie is, too."

"Coal isn't something you can just douse with lighter fluid. You need wood and paper. Kindling," Jules explained.

"Is that so? If you're so knowledgeable, then why'd you never tell me?"

"I assumed you knew."

Maisie made a small noise. Not sure what to do. She had never been in a nasty situation before. Why were her parents fighting? Did they still love each other?

Maisie knew love wasn't forever. Prince wouldn't love her forever; he'd told her. Her parents wouldn't love her forever either. One day they would be gone or retired or Maisie would move to her little paradise, and they'd stop loving her.

"If I'd known, then I woulda invested in something else! If we can't afford gas or electric for heat, why would we be able to afford firewood? Fuggin great."

"Charley! Use your safe words!"

"I am!"

"Safer words," Jules said, "And you just need sticks; not firewood. Leave, go out into nature, and find some!"

Charley crossed into the kitchen and rapped on the window.  "'Go out into nature.' Yeah, yeah, good freakin plan. We live in a city, Jules!"

Maisie meeped again, then looked to the door to the apartment. It was slightly colder outside, but maybe it would be better if she left. If her parents were deciding whether or not to love each other, they'd need space.

She also didn't want to hear her dad's danger words.

Maisie stood and zipped her jacket all the way to her chin. She made it two steps before her mom intercepted her.

"Maisie? Are you okay? I’m sorry... we're not fighting," Jules said.

"You aren't?" Maisie asked, a sinking feeling in her throat.

"We're not," Jules said, "We're problem-solving."

Problem-solving. While using loud voices and danger words.

It was hard to believe. But if it came from her mother, it was always the truth.

"Okay," Maisie said. Accepting the words provided her so much relief. She felt a tear well up in her eye before she could stop herself.

Charley's body sagged, his expression transforming.

"Aw, Maisie," he said, "Please don't cry. Your dad lost his temper, and... maybe he shouldn't have. He's... I'm sorry, little one. Forgive me?"

Maisie nodded shyly and mumbled, "Yes, of course."

Charley smiled wide, "That's big of you, Maisie. Group hug?"

Maisie nodded again, then shuddered a little. Before, she had wondered if her parents were falling out of love. It had taken until now for her to realize how scary that was.

Her mom and dad eased her shaking, wrapping their arms around either side of her. Their arms were just as cold as her own, if not a little colder. But that wasn’t important.

The true warmth came from the love they permitted.

♠

Maisie peeled back the tape, careful not to damage the wood underneath. Then she removed the other half of the tape, prying it away from the neon green paper. A new strip was delicately applied - sticky and unblemished. Maisie smoothed it over the paper to remove any bubbles or creases.

“Tell me you’re joking,” came a voice. Maisie looked up.

Layla approached the customer service desk, wearing her employee lanyard over a half tee and jeans. It was an outfit that pushed hard against West’s code of conduct. There would be conflict later, and Layla would be forced to change into something less revealing.

Maisie knew Layla didn’t care. If she got to wear the outfit for even an hour, she would mark it down as a win.

“Are you seriously replacing the tape for some shitty paper flier?” Layla asked.

Maisie shrugged, smiled, and said, “Everything else is pristine, so I thought, ‘why not? Couldn’t hurt!’”

“Yeah?” Layla said, “I love you, Maisie, but literally no one is going to notice or care about some bad tape job. Besides,” Layla slapped a pair of earbuds onto the counter, “While you were distracted by this, some dumbass punk tried to steal these. Caught him in the parking lot.”

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Maisie picked up the earbuds. They were halfway out of their packaging. One bud was crushed, the other mangled.

“Is this punk alright?” Maisie asked, a note of worry stirring in her heart.

“Oh yeah, he’ll be fine. Twisted his wrist, might have sprained it. Told him what’ll happen if he tries that shit again. Basically, I let him off easy.”

“Basically,” Maisie said, only half agreeing, “Closing today?”

“Yeah,” Layla said, “Fuck me, right? Fuck me. Anyway, I’ll see you in a bit. Looks like you’ve got a customer.”

“Okay!” Maisie said as Layla turned and made for the break room.

The man who replaced her was thin, wearing a tight button-up with muted colors. His meticulously straight facial scruff matched his critical demeanor.

He passed a sheet of paper to Maisie, and said, “I’d like to pick up my TV, please.”

Maisie looked at the paper. A receipt for an online purchase under the name Adam Thorpe.

She used the scanner on the barcode, and the computer spat out an error message. She tried again.

“Problem?” Adam asked as Maisie continued to scan the paper.

“Minor hiccup,” Maisie said, “Scanner isn’t working, so I need to look up the purchase in the system. Phone number?”

Adam scoffed, “I gave you my receipt. All the proof you need is there. How about you go and get the TV so I can get on with my day?”

Maisie wanted to. If the man had places to be, she didn’t want to hold him up.

But policy was policy, and West wanted her to follow policy.

“I’m sorry, but I need to clear the purchase in the system. It won’t take long, I promise.”

“You’ve already wasted enough of my time. Where’s the manager? I want to see him read my receipt.”

Maisie stared at the man’s shirt, no longer able to meet his eyes. The muted colors seemed more vibrant now. Brown and grey becoming orange and blue.

Adam was lying to her. Trying to steal a TV he never purchased. The situation was making Maisie horribly uncomfortable and a little sick to the stomach.

She breathed, then met his eyes again, “That’s fine, I’ll skip looking you up. If you show me your ID, I’ll go and get the TV.”

Adam sighed dramatically, then handed her his license.

Maisie looked it over, then slid it into her pants pocket and left the desk.

“Just a minute while I get that for you!” she called back to him.

“Hey, what are you doing with my license! You gotta give that back!” Adam shouted.

“Just a minute, please!” Maisie said, voice croaking. She picked up her pace.

When she reached the hallway leading to the back, she broke into a run. Her composure immediately cracked, giving way to the nervous ugly feelings building inside of her. She didn’t want to be in this situation anymore. Or ever.

She ran to the manager’s office rather than the warehouse. The door was open, and West was inside, holding a phone to his ear.

“Thank you. We’ll help in whatever way we can,” West said, before hanging up and addressing Maisie, “Police are on their way. Good job out there.”

Maisie looked at the man and felt herself melting. All of the panic washed out of her.

West had been tracking the situation with the store cameras. He was on top of things.

Maisie passed him the license.

“Just in case he made a run for it?” West asked.

“Mhm,” Maisie said.

“That’s some quick wit,” West commended.

“Thanks,” Maisie said.

West deposited the card in his shirt pocket, then shuffled past Maisie.

Maisie started to follow him, but he stopped her.

“Hey, that’s alright. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” West said.

Maisie shook her head, “I should. The police will have questions.”

“Never mind about the questions,” West said, “Maisie, you handled that exceptionally well. Let me take over from here.”

“It’s alright, I want to help,” Maisie said, “I-,”

She choked on her voice and a tremor ran through her. Icy cold and paralyzing.

She couldn’t go back out there. A man was getting arrested because of her. He would be angry with her. Say mean things to her.

West met her eyes, “Please, you can stay back here. Take it easy in the break room. Or stay in my office and lock the door. I’ll let you know when things have blown over. Alright?”

Maisie sniffled and touched a finger to her cheek. Checking for tears.

Then she nodded, smiling glumly.

“Good. Take it easy. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He left, and Maisie didn’t follow.

Instead, she re-entered the office, closed the door, and gingerly turned the lock. The click was whisper-soft.

Maisie stood by the door for a while, unable to reconcile the shaky feelings. She regretted not asking West for a hug. It would have been wrong, of course. The man was at least ten years older and also her superior.

But she needed a hug. Needed to shake the cold, brittle feelings sliding down her arms and up her throat.

She might have asked Layla for a hug. But she could see Layla on West’s computer. The camera feed showed her joining West on the way to the front of the store.

She would have to deal with her feelings alone.

Maisie croaked again. Then made her way to the desk. With the sluggishness of a toddler, she climbed into the office chair and took a seat, bringing her knees to her chest.

She hugged her knees. Tight enough to make the skin white.

In the quiet isolation of the office, Maise tried and failed to find solace.

Faintly, she whimpered.

♣

“Maisie, no. We don’t need them. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

Maisie ignored Layla and broke from the group, angling towards the lone woman on the opposite sidewalk. She heard a clack behind her. Cassie setting down the other side of the stretcher.

A short detour, but worth it. Cecilia was in pain. Painkillers were a solution.

“Painkillers?” Maisie asked the stranger, “Please, do you have any? Even a few.”

The woman looked past Maisie, seeing the two stretchers. Kioshi, drugged by the men who had kidnapped Teddy, skin glowing as bright as the moon. And Cecilia, with a black shirt secured to her upper face by a red tie.

Maisie wanted badly to replace Cecilia’s blindfold. It had been hours since they’d applied it.

The woman fished in her quilted purse and drew out a bottle with a green cap.

“Not many left,” she said, “You can have the bottle.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Maisie said, taking it.

“Mhm, mhm. Goodnight and God bless,” the woman said.

Maisie took that as her cue to leave and rushed back across the street.

A car came to an abrupt stop in front of her, brakes screeching. Maisie waved at them apologetically.

Then she stepped onto the sidewalk, crouching and uncapping the bottle.

“Woah, love,” Layla said, “Don’t do that.”

Maisie poured four red pills into her hand. She reached toward Cecilia with the other.

Layla grabbed her wrist and Maisie had to clench her fist to avoid dropping the pills.

She looked at her best friend, harrowed and confused.

Layla explained, “The hospital will have stronger drugs. Give her ibuprofen now and you limit what they can give her. Drug interactions, chemical reactions. I know you want to, but don’t.”

“Ok,” Maisie said.

“Pills. Back in the bottle.”

“Ok.”

Maisie took the empty bottle from the ground and dumped the pills back inside.

“Gimme,” Layla said.

Maisie pocketed the bottle.

“Maisie.”

“What happened to ‘tread lightly?’” Maisie argued.

Layla eyed her up.

Then nodded. Satisfied.

“You remembered my wisdom,” she said, “Good.”

“Um. Can we please go?” Cassie asked, her voice small.

Cassie. Worried about her sister.

Maisie’s heart fractured.

Poor kid.

Poor Cecilia.

Poor Kioshi.

Poor Blaine, poor Layla.

Teddy, Alec, Addy, Kendra.

Poor...

West.

Dead.

“Maisie?” Layla asked.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m on it!” Maisie said, hurrying to pick up her side of the stretcher.

As soon as she did, she was reacquainted with the image of the dying girl. Blood streaking from the blindfold like tears. Mumbling and groaning, even in sleep.

She would be blind forever.

Would she choose a service dog or a walking cane?

Maisie tilted her head up, staring at Cassie instead.

Cassie was being strong. Physically, because she had to carry half her sister’s weight. And emotionally, because she hadn’t cried yet. Maisie respected her endurance. The girl had almost as much steel as Layla.

Maisie would never have that.

“Left onto Hillview!” Blaine called out, using the phone to navigate.

Blaine. His face was still buried in the stolen phone. Reading the messages of a dead man. Addy had commented that Blaine and Jakob led similar lives. Blaine would be looking for proof that Addy was wrong. Or - quite possibly - proof that he was right.

Maisie suspected the latter to be true, especially given the number of lies Blaine was comfortable telling. Even before Photo had changed her, she had been an excellent lie detector. Now, she was a perfect one, picking up on the little lies that would usually go unnoticed by everyone.

Maisie could deal with the lying. Jakob was dreamy in his own right. Handsome features, good charisma. The kind of guy who would throw himself at a girl, giving them all his affection, and finding excuses just to be with them. Maisie was sure he had a knack for fashion, too, just like Prince had. He seemed like the type.

If they dated, Blaine would lie to her, and some of the lies would be bad. That was acceptable. After all, love never lasted.

Some of the lies would be good, too. He would tell Maisie all of the little things she wanted to hear. Maisie felt like she could benefit from that, indulging in a reality where everything she did was perfect. All she’d ever wanted was to be a Mary Sue from one of her books, making no mistakes.

Someone groaned, and it wasn’t Cecilia. Maisie looked.

Kioshi was waking up. He opened his eyes, then squinted. Blinded by his own light.

Then he rolled off of the stretcher and sprung to his feet.

“Teddy, Alec. Where,” he demanded.

“Alec and the others went after Teddy,” Blaine said, “That’s all we know.”

Kioshi swore in Japanese, then said, “I told them not to!”

“Yeah? That’s not how they interpreted it,” Blaine said.

“‘Don’t give chase.’ Only one interpretation.”

“All you said was ‘don’t,’” Layla said, “Many interpretations.”

“Shinjimae. Fuck yourself,” Kioshi said.

Layla dropped her half of the stretcher and took a bold step toward Kioshi.

Maisie seized the distraction.

She lowered her half of the stretcher to the ground and Cassie mirrored the motion.

Then she took out and unsealed the bottle of pills.

She’d lost enough people over the years. Each loss had rendered her soul a touch colder.

Maisie didn’t want to be cold anymore. She desired the warmth that would come when Cecilia was in good health again. Cuddling and offering treats to her service dog. Hugs, laughter.

“What are you doing?” Cassie whispered as Maisie dumped the contents of the bottle into Cecilia’s mouth.

“Helping her,” Maisie said.

She checked Cecilia’s pulse.

Then she checked her temperature.

Too slow and too warm.

Maisie looked at the blindfold.

Losses. Of love and of life.

Prince, who had told her he loved her and treated her like royalty. She had gone to his house one day and he’d been gone. Moved away. No goodbye.

West, who had sacrificed himself to buy humanity a few extra hours. Noble, heroic. Dead without a goodbye.

Two losses were enough. She couldn’t deal with a third.

Maisie removed her shirt.

Blaine whistled, “Yeah! Let’s get it-,”

“Stop her!” Layla shouted.

Maisie had been noticed. She had to act fast. Frantically, she undid the tie and removed the soggy dress shirt...

Blood and gunk flowed from the open wound. In streams and in pools.

Maisie knelt beside the girl, bundling her shirt into a cord. A fresh blindfold. A solution. Moving forward. Saving a life.

Cecilia awoke, gasping and choking on the unswallowed pills.

Maisie froze.

She- she needed to- needed to apply the new blindfold, but-

Cecilia was dying. Choking on the pills. Bleeding from her face.

Maisie’s breasts were exposed. A summer breeze blew by and chilled her.

She needed to move, to act, but she didn’t know how anymore.

Blaine tried to rip Maisie’s shirt from her hand. Maisie clutched it tightly and the fabric tore, nearly splitting it in two.

Layla dropped to her knees, removing her own shirt. She was bleeding from a slash on her cheek. Bleeding. All of her friends were bleeding and leaving and dying and-

Maisie shuddered. Full-body.

Layla said some words. Blaine, too. One of them nudged Maisie, trying to get her attention.

Maisie stared at the dying girl. Choking, bleeding, gasping. One of the pills spilled out of her mouth, accompanied by a trail of drool. Her chest rose and fell with the effort of the gasping.

A white shirt went over the girl's face, being reapplied to the wound. Maisie watched the blood immediately soak through, painting a red slit from ear to ear.

Cecilia would be okay. There was pressure on the wound again. It was okay.

Maisie couldn’t stop shuddering.

More words were exchanged. Someone nudged her. Layla.

Maisie tried to say something to her friend. It came out as a guttural noise.

More words. This time, Maisie listened, because it was Cecilia who was speaking.

“Cass... Cassie. Are you there?”

“Cecilia!” Cassie said, “Don’t speak! Focus on getting better!”

“No,” Cecilia groaned, “Don’t tell me that and don’t think like that. Things aren’t going to get better.”

“What do you mean? Are you okay?”

Cecilia sputtered, coughed, and said, “Not me. I mean things. This deal with Clemente taking us away from our mother.”

“Don’t call him that! He’s Kendra now!”

“No. No, he’s not. He’s not Kendra and he’s not our mother. Don’t let him be.”

“Why are you saying this? Why are you being so mean all of a sudden?” Cassie whined.

“Because you’re being a hippo-crit, Cassandra. Do you wanna know what the word nuclear actually means?”

“No. Not right now. I want you to get better! You should sleep!”

“Cassie is right,” Layla said, “You lost too much blood just now. Stop talking and sleep.”

Cecilia pressed on, ignoring both requests, “Nuclear means your parents are actually your parents. Kendra won’t take care of you in the right ways. You need to find mom and stay with her!”

“Me? What about you?” Cassie asked.

“Shut up, both of you,” Layla said, “Damnit! Listen to me and go to sleep!”

“I’ll be okay,” Cecilia said, “I’ll... make it through this. I’m... strong...”

Cecilia tried to say more, but she struggled. Her mouth went slack.

Her chest stopped rising.

For a moment, Maisie heard the high-pitched screech of wind in her ears.

Then, everything went quiet, replaced by a dull tone and a painful ringing.

No.

Cecilia’s head fell sideways and drool spilled out of her mouth.

Please please please no. No no no no no. Please!

Layla put two fingers to the girl’s temple. Made a face. Not a good face.

Then she pinched Cecilia’s nose and began performing CPR. Chest compressions, airflow. An attempt to bring the girl back. The girl who had just died.

Maisie brought her knees against her naked chest. Pulling them tightly against her body for warmth.

Then she released them. There was no use.

The full body shuddering stopped.

She breathed. Her first proper breath in recent memory.

No use. In getting warm, in staying active. She’d never be warm.

People died, love ended. Always. The world was a cold place. She’d never be happy if she kept believing otherwise.

This was her path forward. Towards happiness and some semblance of being okay. Embracing the cold was the path.

A hand touched her shoulder. Layla again. She’d given up on the CPR. Cecilia was dead.

“Hey...,” she said to Maisie, taking a seat beside her.

“Hi,” Maisie said.

“It’s not your fault,” Layla told her.

Maisie heard the absence in her voice. The emptiness that she’d heard in many of Blaine’s words. This was the gift that Photo had granted her when she’d been abducted.

The lie detector.

Just like that, everything shifted. Her new-found comfort slipped away from her and she was left to scrabble for something else. Something. Any reason to be happy.

She’d killed Cecilia. Removing the blindfold had killed her. Her fault. Layla believed it, too.

The shuddering resumed, unforgiving in its intensity.

“Maisie?”

Maisie hugged her chest. Shut her eyes. Humming, trying to find a melody.

“Maisie!”

Behind closed eyes, a black world took on color. Maisie saw a girl materialize, standing above her. There were no eyes in her sockets. Black holes to match the black backdrop behind her.

Blood dripped onto Maisie’s chest in little splats. Like the beginning of a rainstorm, they fell, dotting her breasts and stomach. Poking her face and eyes. Her vision tinted from the blood in her eyes. Instead of red, everything took on shades of blue.

All at once, dual buckets of blood crashed against her chest. Slimy and cold, turning her skin to ice. The girl above her wailed, mouth gaping. All her fault.

“Maisie!” Layla shouted, "Maisie, we have to go!"

Maisie hummed, squeezing her eyes shut to the point they might pop. If they did, she'd be blind. Just like the girl she'd killed.

"Maisie! We have to go now! The demons back!"

When Maisie didn't react, Layla hugged her.

It was an intimate hug. Skin against skin. Her best friend was trying desperately to comfort her so they could get going. Layla, who was nasty to pretty much everyone except for Maisie.

Maisie reluctantly accepted the hug. Hugging was her favorite, especially when it was Layla. Coming from Layla, it felt more significant. Less freely given.

She extended her arms around her friend and squeezed, returning the gesture. Layla squeezed back.

The world was cold and full of endings. But here was a love that would last for years. Maybe even a lifetime. Decades of warmth and friendship and hugs.

Maisie continued to squeeze, but something was wrong. Something had changed. No matter how tightly she squeezed...

No. If Maisie squeezed and squeezed, it would happen. The warmth would come and love would manifest. That was how hugs worked and she knew it.

She eventually released her friend from the hug. After she’d thoroughly given up.

Something was wrong. Something had changed. All of that hugging...

And Maisie felt nothing.