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       The darkness flooded the streets as Maybelle ran through the streets. Rain was pouring onto the cobblestone streets as Maybelle ran. She ran through the dark alleys and small shops into the empty streets behind them. She wanted to outrun her mind. She wanted all of the horrible, nauseating thoughts she’d ever had to be left far behind. She ran until the rain pounded so hard that she could hear it all around her. Anyone else would have thought of it as just rain, but not Maybelle. She felt the power of the rain all around her, pulsing through her veins. 

       The sun was rising painting the sky in vibrant reds and yellows. Rain drops coated the windows and Maybelle ran back through town. Escaping her thoughts was going to be harder than she thought. She tried to control her breathing as she ran, but she was giving up hope to ever be able to breathe normally again. 

       She wanted to hide away. Anyone else would want to hide away in their mind if they were going what she was going through, but her mind is even scarier than what is happening outside of it. 

       What is fate? Did fate expect her to ruin everything? It felt like fate wanted her to fail. Her whole life was setting her up to fail. Fate was setting her up to fail. Fate killed her mother and made her father go crazy. Fate made her brother kill himself and fate made her think all of these horrible things. Fate. That’s what Maybelle decided to blame. It wasn’t her fault. She kept that in her mind as she raced her thoughts home, but her thoughts won. 

      “I’m home,” she shouted drying off her hair with a blanket on the floor. 

       “Where the hell were you?” Tyler, Maybelle’s sister, demanded. 

      “Racing,” she replied simply trying to walk into the main room, but Tyler blocked off the door. 

       “That’s not a fucking answer,” she said blocking Maybelle when she went to duck under her arm. 

       “Running,” She replied glaring at her sister. Tyler was the her only member alive or mentally sane, and Maybelle was really getting sick of her. 

       “Maybelle you’re sixteen you need to do teenage things. Go make friends, go get drunk, or toilet paper a house. I don’t care, but do something that makes life worth living.”

       “Got it Mom,” Maybelles said ducking under Tyler’s arm and into the kitchen. The kitchen used to be light and vibrant, with flowered plates and subway tile. But now it’s a mess. The plates are broken and the room is covered in dust. The curtains are closed making it look like part of a haunted house. And not a haunted house where Casper would live. More like a haunted house where Pennywise would take his prey. And a permanent decoration was her dad sitting in a lounge chair with a beer glued to his hand.

       “Where did you run?” Tyler asked coming into the kitchen and putting a new beer in her dad’s hand. 

      “Around,” Maybelle said grabbing a beer out of the fridge. She opened it on the table and took a sip of the bitter liquid. Maybe the beer would help her outrun her thoughts. 

       “And when did you start drinking?” Tyler asked dusting off a glass with her shirt and pouring water into it. 

       “Since last night,” Maybelle said blankly, taking a large swing of her beer. 

       “Yeah, Well only the one because you don’t want to be drunk for school.”

       School. The cesspool of germs and the perfect place for her brain to feed on all of the innocent prey. 

       “Why do I have to go?” Maybelle asked, “You didn’t finish high school.”

      “Well somebody had to stay home and look after that,” Tyler said nodding over to where, Micheal, her dad was sitting. 

       “Fine,” Maybelle groaned as she grabbed her bag and slammed the door behind her. 

      

       “Well look who’s back,” Katie Monstoro, the rich bitch, sneered looking Maybelle up and down. 

      “Good observation Katie, to bad you didn’t observe that ugly nose earlier. Maybe you could have done something about it.”

      “I guess having your brother kill himself doesn’t change your sense of humor. A stupid sense of humor by the way.”

      “Fuck off,” Maybelle spit trying to keep her thoughts tamed. She made a pact to herself not to attack anybody. 

      “Oh, looks like I just hit a nerve,” Katie stage whispered to her posse of rich bitches. 

       “I’d be careful. I don’t think the school forgave you for the incident last year.” Katie said loudly so that the kids meandering the hallways looked her way. 

      “I said fuck off,” Maybelle said quietly. 

      “How’s your daddy doing?” Katie asked, and Maybelle’s mind was off.

      She was back in her house when it looked like a pretty princess’s castle. The curtains were open and Maybelle was sitting with her older brother Derrick. Derrick was helping her with her history homework when his phone rang. He picked it up and after about six seconds his eyes were panic stricken. He didn’t say anything he just listened to the person on the other line. Maybelle remembered how he grabbed her hand forcefully and brought her to the car. She remembered how she demanded to know what was happening, but Derrick didn’t say anything as he drove. He drove and drove until they reached the hospital. The panic that hit her at that moment was happening somewhere else. It kind of felt like Deja Vu.

       “Maybelle,” somebody shouted, but it wasn’t in the scene. It was somewhere else far off in the distance, but it slowly got louder. The scene blurred and bright lights made her cringe as she opened her eyes. She didn’t know where she was. “Maybelle,” she heard it again. The voice was soft but demanding. Maybelle forced herself to look at the voice. It was a small, stubby woman with soft red hair and piercing blue eyes. “Maybelle,” she repeated again.

     “What?” Maybelle shouted trying to sit up, but a piercing headache hit her. 

     “Lay back down sweetheart,” the woman said pushing her down. Maybelle didn’t know what she was sitting on, but it was stiff and felt like one of those cots you use when your camping. She determined she was in the nurse's office. The walls were covered in posters about washing your hands and protection. 

       “What happened?” She demanded fighting her headache and pulling herself up. 

        “No clue,” the woman, who Maybelle was assuming was the nurse, said. “Do you have anyone we could contact, anyone to call?”

      “Nope,” Maybelle said. 

      “Well someone needs to drive you home,” the nurse said. 

      “Well I don’t have anybody to take me home.” Maybelle said.

      “Then I’ll see who has a free period and they can take you home.” The nurse said.

      “Fine,” Maybelle groaned, doing her best to stand up and failing. She sat back down on the cot. She looked at her phone while the nurse called the office. 

       “Peter Winters will take you home,” the nurse said clapping her hands which just added to Maybelle’s headache. 

       Peter Winters. The school’s biggest ass hole. 


“Ready to go?” Peter asked as he hopped into the nurse’s  office. He was swinging his keys back and forth. 

       “Yeah,” Maybelle mumbled doing her best to keep her head down. They headed down the hallway and Maybelle headed into the office, but Peter grabbed her elbow.

      “What are you doing?” Maybelle demanded pulling her arm away from his grasp.

      “I know your dad died and all, but you don’t have to be such a bitch. I already checked us out.” Peter said leading her down the hallway. 

       “Where do you live?” Peter asked as they drove. 

       “On Horman Street. You might not know where it is. It’s on the bad side of town.” Maybelle said.

      Peter let out a laugh, “always assuming.” 

     “What?” Maybelles demanded not thinking she said anything funny. 

     “I live on the same street as you. I was born there. So yes, I do know where it is. And you call it the bad side of town, and I call it the side filled with potential.”

      “Well shit. I totally messed up the first impression thing didn’t I? Sorry, I’m not very good at talking without insulting other people.” Maybelle mumbled feeling her cheeks heating up.

     “Well, you were insulting yourself to, which is definitely something you want to work on.” Peter laughed as they pulled up in her driveway. 

     “Well thanks,” Maybelle said reaching to get out of the car. 

     “ Wait,” Peter said, grabbing her hand. Maybelle tried to jerk away, but Peter held strong.

     “What?” Maybelle demanded as she continued to try to pull her hand away. 

    “Give me your phone,” Peter said. He didn’t explain. 

     “No,” Maybelle said giving one big pull before he let go. 

    “Yes,” Peter said. “I’m not leaving until I see it.” 

     “Fine,” Maybelle said handing over her phone.

     “There,” Peter said typing something in, “now you can call me if you need to. We can insult the south side together.” 

    “I’m not looking to date,” Maybelle said.

    “Who said I am?” Peter asked. “Maybe you’re not the only one who has things to rant about. I mean I live right across from you, so it’s not that big of a deal.” 

     “Alright,” Maybelle said. But don’t expect me to use it.”

     “It’s up to you,” Peter said giving her an over exaggerated bow before pulling out of the driveway. 



      That night Maybelle lay in bed trying to clear her head. She had been praying for sleep to come, but every time the clock blared a different number it felt more and more hopeless. Maybelle was fighting to urge to text Peter, but finally she gave in. She grabbed her phone and texted Peter. 

Are you there? She texted biting her nails hoping he texted her back. 

Yeah. He texted. 

Why can’t you sleep? She asked.

Anxiety. You? He texted. 

Same. She said. She went over her window and saw the light on in the next house over. She saw his shadow on the wall. She grabbed a piece of paper, wrote her message, and picked her least favorite pair of shoes. 

     She took a deep breath and threw them at his window. It took two pairs for him to go to his window, but when he did Maybelle put up her sign to the window. All it said was SAME. He smiled and he left the window. But Maybelle stayed there. She knew he would back. He a piece of paper and all it said was SAME.

December 14, 2019 00:34

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1 comment

Terry R Barca
02:38 Dec 27, 2019

Good use of dialogue. I like the way you use italics. A couple of typos -- readers notice. Watch out for words that are spelled correctly, but are not the word you meant -- hard to find when you wrote them. A good story well written. Well done.

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