Dark and

Twisted Souls

Written by Tamara Arts

DARK AND TWISTED SOULS

First publication date: 0ctober 6th 2023

© 2023 Tamara Arts

© 2023 Hamley Books Publishing

Cover design by Sleepy Fox Cover Designs

Interior design by Kelley, Sleepy Fox Cover Designs

ISBN 9789464661927

NUR 285

Theme Code: YFCB 15+

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“For everyone who thinks they have lost themselves.”

Prologue

Darkness lurked in every corner and spread through the rooms. It devoured the people who roamed there, swallowed the ship whole until it succumbed under its power.

No one was safe.

Not even him.

The years dragged on. It passed by slowly, but at the same time all perception of time vanished. Every day, every night, he prowled the corridors, walked soundlessly through the doors, and he never let his guard down.

Waiting for her to return.

He knelt down in front of the girl who was playing with her little friend who, unbeknownst to her, had lost his life decades ago.

“You’re back!” The smile that appeared on her innocent, life-filled face, could light up the whole world.

“Yes.” He lifted one corner of his mouth as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. The realization that he would do anything to protect her, that he would always take care of her, hit him again.  

Hope filled her eyes. “And her? Has she come back yet?”

He looked at the man towering above him. His friendly, but urgent gaze penetrated him as he nodded, a sign that the time had come. He immediately saw the resemblance between the man and the little girl sitting in front of him. Like father, like daughter.

“She’ll get here soon, we’ll make sure of that.”

No matter what it took. However, not without danger.  

Chapter 1

If she hated anything, it was rain. Right now the raindrops plagued the windshield of her car, forcing her to put the wipers on their fastest speed. It blurred her vision, but worse: the fear of the wet road surface. The idea alone that her car could skid at any moment was enough for Maeve to tense up behind the wheel. Her knuckles turned white from the force with which she gripped her steering wheel and her legs cramped.

The summer storms were her least favorite part of the otherwise beautiful season, although the farmers would say otherwise. After all, the rain was good for the soil and crops would grow decently.

“Hey!” She furiously pressed the horn. “Look beside you before you merge!” The car in front of her swerved back to the lane it had initially come from before it tried to get her killed. She had often seen her life flash before her eyes on this road, which she took to and from school every day. Because of the high speed limit and the reckless youth—she was nineteen, so she didn’t consider herself to be a part of “the youth” anymore—she was always on high alert.

Maeve couldn’t help the thought crossing her mind that she wouldn’t even care so much if she was driven off the road and her life ended that way. But she couldn’t put her friends and family through that. And she shouldn’t think like that. She still had a lot to live for and it would get better. At least, if she were to believe her therapist.

She quickly glanced beside her and saw a boy that looked like he had just gotten his driver’s license holding up his middle finger. Sixteen-year-olds. Yuck. It had only been three years since she was sixteen, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

All she did was roll her eyes. Fortunately, the boy in the car left it at that. He reduced speed and merged behind her into another lane, so he could pass her.

The rain distorted the lights of the other cars until they were nothing more than blurred spots and she squeezed her eyes to slits to try and see the road clearly. Only a few more minutes before she would reach the exit that would lead her to her school.  

A new car merged into the lane in front of her and the red light, which was just a bit too bright, came as a shock to her eyes. Suddenly she saw nothing but white. As if a bright lightning bolt had come down from the sky and completely surrounded her.

The white slowly turned into an image and her surroundings became clearer. She found herself in an unfamiliar room with many yellow lights on the ceiling. There were tables and chairs, like a restaurant, and old wood covered the walls. The floor consisted of old-fashioned carpet, shades of brown dominated the room.

Her heart seemed to stop beating for a few seconds when she saw him. At a table, in the faraway corner, sat her father. Her father, whom she had missed every single day since she was ten years old. Whose grave she still visited at least once a month after almost ten years. And he sat there. Eating and laughing at something someone had said, as if he had never died.

Maeve opened her mouth to call out to him, but no sound came out of her throat. Still, her father turned his head in her direction.

Just before their eyes could meet, a loud noise jerked her back to the present. In her car, on a highway. Her heart was beating like crazy in her throat and her hands were shaking. The taillights of the car in front of her, where the honking sound came from, were far too close. She almost drove into it. She soon realized that she was no longer driving in the lane where she had just been, but was driving diagonally across the lanes towards the shoulder. She swiftly slowed down to avoid a collision with the car in front of her and straightened her steering wheel.

Sweat had gathered on her forehead and under her armpits. All she wanted to do was stop the car on the side of the road to calm down. However, that was not a possibility since there were no parking spots, so she was forced to calm down at a high speed on a busy road.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re driving at normal speed, keeping good distance, nobody is hurt...” She told herself more things to ensure herself everything was safe.

Maeve reached the exit and left the highway. Now that she was driving on a quieter road, she could think straight. She couldn’t fathom what just happened. Had she passed out? Had she blacked out? It was impossible that she had been daydreaming, she never did that while driving. The images replayed themselves in her head, but more vague. Especially the colors of the room had stayed with her: shades of brown. And her father.

She swallowed away the lump in her throat. The things she would give to spend one last day with her father. To tell him she loved him. As a ten-year-old girl that was self-evident, it didn’t need to be expressed in words. But the burning desire to tell him those words and him needing to hear them was painful. She had lain in bed many nights and had daydreamed at school about the moments she had spent with her father. Memories whose images seemed to fade more every day, something that made her feel incredibly guilty. She feared that one day she wouldn’t be able to remember what her father looked like, unless she saw him in a picture.

But the way she had just seen her father, it was like he had been real, even more real than in her memories. Her eyes stung with tears trying to wriggle their way out. She forced them back. The last thing she wanted was to arrive at school with tearstained eyes and makeup on her cheeks.

The flash must’ve been a memory, triggered by the lights or something. Maeve breathed in and out deeply when her school came into view. It was time to push aside the images and emotions. She had a long day of school ahead of her.

Maeve neatly parked her car. She took a few more deep breaths to dispel the strange, indefinable feeling that had risen in her chest, before she gathered her things and exited the car.

Before she even had the chance to close her car door, she heard a loud “Mae!” behind her.

Maeve turned around and saw Sam walking toward her with a smile on her face, with Minho in her wake. Her best friend looked gorgeous, as usual. The wind blowed through her blonde hair and the white skinny jeans combined with a light blue top accentuated her curves, which she was very proud of.

“Sam,” she replied. She walked towards them. Maeve was always happy to see her friends again.

“Good morning.” Minho’s greeting was immediately followed by a yawn.

“Bad night?” Maeve asked, studying the bags under his eyes.

“Well, bad night...” He smiled slyly. “More like staying up too late. I spend a lot of time on my homework, of course.”

Sam coughed. “Gaming, you mean.” 

Minho put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and said: “Ah, can’t you just pretend for a moment that I am an excellent student? Besides, I was editing some pictures.” He had photographed the unknown, deserted places of their small town a few days ago and of course he preferred to work on that rather than the obligatory homework.

“I don’t lie,” she replied with a wink.

Meanwhile, they approached the school building. It was nothing special. The walls were painted gray and the square windows occupied most of it. The entrance consisted of two large doors made of wood. A staircase with long steps led op to it. Next to it was a sloping platform for those who moved in wheelchairs.

In other words, their school had a very dull look, which wasn’t conducive to the students’ mood. At least not Maeve’s. She already had great difficulty getting out of bed in the morning to start a day she wasn’t looking forward to. The fact that she had to spend it in a building that looked like... well... this... didn’t help.

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho laughed. “That is your first lie of the day.”

Sam poked him in the side and turned her head away from him, because she was supposedly angry, but Maeve saw the tiny smile forming on her face.

Minho grabbed her chin between his fingers and pecked her lips, making her smile even wider.

Even after two years they didn’t miss a day when they showed each other how much they cared about the other. Of course Maeve had also witnessed the bad days, but they were nothing compared to the good ones.

She couldn’t imagine being this crazy about someone after being with them for such a long time. Her relationships had been too short and too little to know. The fact that her chronic depression hung over her head like a dark cloud didn’t exactly help the situation. It was like a blanket that neutralized her emotions. She had never experienced the real, intense love she saw in the movies and read about in her books.

“Gross, do that on your own time.” Maeve pulled up her nose, as if she had smelled something dirty.

Sam laughed and rolled her eyes. “Just wait until you are head over heels in love with someone, then you’ll think differently.”

“Right.” If she ever found that someone, that is.

They arrived at their lockers. Maeve put her coat in there and took out the books she needed for the morning classes. She groaned. Physics was the first up. She sucked at that. And the teacher explained everything they didn’t really need to know with such a monotone voice that even the birds outside fell asleep.

“I feel your pain.” Minho dramatically dropped against the lockers. “Physics. Why can’t we just follow the subjects we find really interesting and that we are actually going to use during our careers?”

“To punish us.” Maeve sighed. “Ah well, we are going to have to deal with the mandatory subjects to broaden our horizons.”

Minho casually leaned against the lockers and kept an eye on Sam, who was struggling with her earphones at her locker across the hall.

Maeve remembered the day he arrived as the new kid very well. He was assigned his locker right next to Sam’s. And Sam, being the social butterfly that she was, had immediately introduced herself to him. Minho had soon become a part of their friend group, previously consisting of just Sam and Maeve, and he had lost his shyness. Since then, he had casually hung around Sam’s locker every morning to wish her good morning and every afternoon to say goodbye to her. At one point he had started bringing small gifts, like a picked flower, a note, or something to eat. Sam had found herself to be all smiles because he was so thoughtful, and after six months, they had gotten into a relationship. That was two years ago.

Maeve couldn’t deny that she had felt left out for a while. She had some trouble when Minho joined the two of them, because she didn’t want to share her problems and secrets with someone new. It had always been her and Sam. A duo. And especially when the relationship between Sam and Minho had started to blossom, she had felt as if she had not been included in everything. The two of them went on dates and Maeve had found it difficult to see the person she shared everything with less and less.

The fact that Sam and Minho were spending their time together wasn’t the thing that really bothered her. It was mainly because Maeve didn’t know what was going on in Sam’s life at any time. She was no longer the first person Sam would call when something had happened. The things that used to be their tradition, Sam started doing with Minho alone. They made inside jokes and laughed at things Maeve didn’t understand. She knew it was selfish to think like that, not everything was about her, which she felt even more guilty about. Above all she had just felt... lonely.

Eventually, she had a serious and openhearted conversation with Sam and she managed to balance her relationship with Minho and her friendship with Maeve. She even developed a good friendship with Minho, something she hadn’t expected, since she didn’t open up easily.

At that thought, the indefinable feeling she had experienced in the car came rushing back.

“And the books are so heavy,” Sam huffed as she joined them. “Luckily I have my two favorite people with me in class.” Her eyes squeezed together when she smiled.

“Then I’ll carry them for you!” Minho snatched the books out of her hands, which made Sam almost lose her balance, and quickly walked away from them.

Sam hurried after him. “Hey, that really isn’t necessary... okay.” She sighed when it became clear he had no intention of stopping.

Maeve followed them and watched as Minho started hopping through the halls, which earned him strange looks from their fellow pupils.

“He’s such a fool,” Maeve laughed.

Sam hooked her arm through hers and nodded in agreement. “Yes, but he is my fool. By the way, I made something cute yesterday! Want to see?”

Her mood immediately brightened. Sam was always enthusiastic about her art and the things she painted were beautiful. They always managed to bring Maeve’s emotions to the surface. “Of course.”

Sam pulled out her phone and searched through her pictures. “Here you go.”

Maeve took the phone from her and studied the picture carefully. The painting was a little darker than what she was used to, but equally beautiful. A dark background was overshadowed by silhouettes sitting side by side on a hill, by a fire. Beautiful trees, a river and all kinds of animals had been painted around them in lighter colors. The life and enthusiasm the animals exuded where contrasted by the dark and calm colors of the people and surroundings, made her feel as if the painting were calling to her. “Even in a dark mind, bright butterflies fly free.”

Sam always managed to touch Maeve on a deeper level. Sam knew this, which was why she showed Maeve her art when no one was around.

“It’s gorgeous. How do you do this?”

Sam shrugged. “I just sit down and paint what I feel.”

Whether Sam had felt the same way Maeve did right now when she had sat down to paint, she didn’t know, but Sam was a sensitive girl and needed art to calm her mind.

“I want to hang this painting above my bed and stare at it every night,” Maeve said.

Sam smiled, clearly happy with the compliment. “Thank you, I always wonder whether it comes out nicely. I’m glad I succeeded again.”

Maeve wouldn’t be surprised if Sam chose art after high school.

Chapter 2

As expected, the class was boring as hell. Something about electric currents, electrons, conductors, semiconductors and potential difference. She couldn’t care less. The information didn’t get through to her brain, not that she was even trying to listen...

Maeve stared out of the window and watched cars drive up and down in front of the building. All she could think about was how tired she was and that she had such a long day ahead of her. According to her psychologist, it was better if she thought positive thoughts. She did her best to transform her thoughts. I am awake and fit and have all day to do fun things. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

In the distance, she saw a girl that couldn’t be older than five being lifted by her father to cross the busy road. Maeve closed her eyes.

Sometimes, when she would daydream, it was as if her father was still alive. Then she thought, even if it was only for half a second, that she would come home to her father reading the newspaper while her mother was absorbed in a book, sitting next to him. Both of them were off work on Wednesdays and they would spend that free time together. And every time she realized that this would no longer be the case, a piece of her heart broke.

She opened her eyes and father and daughter had disappeared from sight. A feeling that could be best described as a hole in her stomach intensifing and spreading through her body. Every bit of her skin tingled while she wondered what this indefinable feeling was supposed to be. It was akin to sadness and longing, but it went deeper than that. Like she was being pulled somewhere. The feeling that she had to be somewhere other than here. It made her feel uneasy and the tingling did not stop.

Slowly, her gaze no longer focused on the outside world, but on the reflection in the window. She saw the classroom, her peers, and finally herself. Short, black hair and bright blue, cheerful eyes that belonged to the face of a seven-year-old stared back at her.

Maeve’s breath got caught in her throat. A jolt went through her body, causing her arm to slip off the table and she scraped her elbow on the edge. A mixture of a scream and an inhalation was the result.

She blinked once and the reflection in the window had changed. Now she saw the nineteen-year-old version of herself. Her black hair long again, the blue eyes duller.

“Mae,” Sam hissed beside her. “What are you doing?”

Maeve swallowed and tore her gaze away from her reflection in the window. “Nothing, I somehow slipped. You know me and my clumsiness.” She sent her friend a small smile.

Sam looked at her like she didn’t quite believe Maeve’s explanation, but she let it slide. For now.

However, her actions had also drawn the teacher’s attention. “Maeve, are you all right?”

Her cheeks grew warm now that all eyes in the room were on her. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Mr. McMurphy nodded and looked at her over his glasses, which were far too low on the bridge of his nose. “Okay, will you start paying attention, then?”

Maeve nodded and continued to stare at the teacher for the long minutes that followed, without actually concentrating on what he was saying. The words flew past her.

The image of her seven-year-old self had only magnified the strange feeling. It reminded her of the fact that she hadn’t felt happy since then. Since that age, even before her father had died, the childish innocence and happiness had disappeared from her eyes and she had witnessed her parents’ growing concerns. She couldn’t recall the exact moment when the heavy blanket of apathy was wrapped around her and she no longer enjoyed anything, she could no longer feel anything anymore.

A poke in her side. She returned back from her thoughts. Sam slid her a note.

I can hear you thinking from here. Take it easy, all right?

The eyebrows rose slightly more towards each other making her eyes wide, her lips formed into a tentative smile, and her eyes scanned Maeve... Sam was worried.

Maeve took the piece of paper and grabbed a pen. I know. It’s one of those days, I think. She slid the paper back.

Sam nodded understandingly. Is it an “I want to talk to my mother about it this afternoon” or a “let’s get ice cream together this afternoon” kind of mood?

She smiled when she read that sentence. She greatly appreciated that Sam always gave her the choice and was okay with whichever answer she gave. The first one. Yes, she needed her mother. Her soft voice and soothing embrace. She always did when she thought of her father. Every day she witnessed how much her mother missed her father. Sometimes she felt guilty for being depressed and throwing that on her plate as well. At first she had her husband to share the burden with, now she had to do it all on her own. Maeve tried her best to be a good daughter, but it was exhausting to feign a mood she didn’t have. Still, she felt she could go to her mother with anything. It had become clear to her that the only one who thought she was a burden was herself. It had taken a lot of conversations and therapy sessions to realize that.

Sam squeezed her hand briefly for encouragement. She smiled back. How had she earned such a great friend? She couldn’t imagine having this connection with anyone else.

After two more classes, the redeeming sound of the bell echoed through the school halls. Maeve gathered her things as quickly as possible, just like her friends, and they hurried out of the classroom. Let’s say that their school had more students than available seats in the cafeteria. At least, the good seats. They had to get there in time to get a good seat.

Minho walked a little faster, ahead of them, while Maeve and Sam did their best to keep up.

“Wait for me, I’ve got little legs!” Sam cried dramatically.

Maeve laughed at the reference to the video on social media. Together, they ran after Minho, deliberately taking small steps with their arms stretched out in front of them as if they were babies who had just learned to walk. This time, she didn’t care if others looked at them strangely. They were used to that by now.

Finally, Minho slid into a table right before other students wanted to sit down. Maeve and Sam quickly took the other free spots. Not very kind, but well... It was like a wild jungle here, survival of the fittest.

They took turns getting their food to keep their table occupied. Sam was the first to leave.

“Hey”—Minho leaned forward—“what happened during class?”

Maeve sighed. “I don’t know.” She supported her head by putting her chin on her hand and looked dazedly ahead. “It was so weird, for a second there I thought I saw myself in the reflection of the window.”

Minho tilted his head. “Wow, that’s so... weird?” The sarcasm couldn’t be missed.

“No, I mean that I saw the reflection of seven-year-old me.” She shrugged. “I must’ve been tired.” The unpleasant feeling came back again. Jesus, why?

“You think so?” Minho leaned forward even more and squeezed his eyes to slits.

“What else could it have been?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and shrugged. “I have no idea, I was just fooling around. Does this happen often? Have you discussed this with your therapist?”

“No, today was the first time. I’m just tired, that’s it,” she dismissed it.

Minho nodded in agreement. It was so much easier convincing a guy that everything was okay than it was a girl.

“By the way, Sam and I will have officially been together for two years during the second week of the summer break. I want to give her something nice, but I don’t know what. I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now. Ideally, I’d like to give her the whole world, but well”—a playful smile formed on his face—“that’s going to be a bit difficult.”

Maeve looked at him endearingly, grateful that he changed the subject. He was so sweet. “Well, that’s what you get when you give her something small every single day,” she laughed.

“Hey! I’m trying my best to be an excellent boyfriend.”

“And you succeed excellently at that.” Maeve glanced over her shoulder and saw that Sam had almost reached the end of the buffet line. “Uhm, I can’t think of anything that fast, either. But it’s more fun when it comes from you anyway. She must talk about what she likes to you a lot. Remember the details and then you’re bound to come up with something great.”

“Can I top last year’s surprise?”

Last year he had taken Sam to a nearby mountain, where he had arranged a picnic for the two of them. They had had a beautiful view of the nature park. Later, they sat in the back of his car’s open trunk, where Minho had provided blankets and pillows. They’d watched a downloaded romantic movie. Maeve had heard every single detail from Sam.

“Sure you can!” she said. Although, she wasn’t so sure. He would have to really exhaust his creative brain to top something that romantic. “But there’s no need to try and top it. If you two are having a good time and you put in the effort, she’ll like it enough.”

“What will I like enough?”

Maeve’s eyes grew big. She hadn’t noticed that Sam had approached them from the side.

“You were talking about me, right?” She looked from Minho to Maeve and back again.

“We were just saying that...” began Minho.

“That you can really enjoy a night alone with your art. That you enjoy that enough and don’t need every night to be spectacular for you.” Maeve smiled and bared her teeth. They were such bad liars.

“Okay...” Sam cautiously took a seat and put the tray of food in front of her on the table. It was clear that she didn’t quite believe them, but she left it at that. “Your turn to get food, Mae.”

Thank God. Her stomach rumbled with hunger and she could escape Sam’s interrogation. She sent Minho an apologetic look before she joined the back of the line.

The more the line dwindled and the closer she got to the food, the more she began to doubt her choice. Maeve loved food too much and often struggled with making choices in the school cafeteria. It would’ve been so much easier if they just served one dish. Eventually she decided to go for a tuna pasta salad. Reasonably healthy and it gave her the carbs she needed to keep her energy levels high for the rest of the day. She turned around with a full tray and walked back to the table where her friends were sitting.

Suddenly, a flash overtook her. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she abruptly stopped in her stride, not realizing that someone almost bumped into her. Her eyes widened. Right in front of her, she saw a man turn red and reach for his left arm, then he grabbed his chest with a cry. He jerked and fell off his chair.

It took Maeve a few seconds before she realized she was no longer in the school cafeteria. The room consisted of shades of brown, tables and chairs. Again.

Meanwhile, the man lay still on the ground. Chaos ensued around them. People were running around trying to help the man, those who were dining as well as the workers. Loud shouts and screams drowned out all other noise and she didn’t know what to do or where to go.

The image blurred and she was sucked back into her own world, the school cafeteria, at a sickening speed, it seemed.

She couldn’t manage to get her focus back to the cafeteria. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. When those subsided and she looked around the room, she noticed that all eyes were on her. The first thing she felt were her hands shaking uncontrollably, then her legs that felt like Jell-O, and eventually that she was breathing far too shallowly and rapidly.

Her tray was scattered on the floor along with the food. She had apparently dropped it, but she could not remember when.

Maeve swallowed. Her body wouldn’t stop shaking. This cafeteria, all those people. She felt like a mouse in a trap. She had to get out of here as soon as possible. She had to get away from all those piercing eyes.

Before she knew it, her legs carried her out of the cafeteria. As fast as she could, she ran in the direction of the doors, which she flipped open, before running into the nearest bathroom.

Maeve came to an abrupt stop when she bumped into the sinks. She desperately grabbed the sides. Her knuckles turned white from the force with which she clung to them. She was afraid that if she didn't, she could fall over at any moment.

With her head bowed, she tried her best to control her breathing, but the lump in her throat prevented air from entering her lungs. Her heart was beating far too fast, so fast that she wondered if it was beating at all. A strange, gurgling sound came from the back of her throat.

She was dying.

She was sure of it.

Maeve looked up at the mirror and what she saw made her turn away from the sink and stumble backwards. Her back hit the cold plastic of a stall door. She clasped her hands in front of her face.

“No, no, enough!" she cried desperately. Not again. It was quite obviously the seven-year-old version of herself staring back at her. The memories and emotions this evoked in Maeve became too much. Why did she keep seeing herself like that? It wasn't in her head. She was really seeing it.

Her legs gave out. She slumped down until she was sobbing with her knees drawn up and hands in front of her face. Knowing she would not survive this. That something was chasing her and messing with her head.

The door to the bathroom creaked open. She heard footsteps, rumbling, but it all seemed very far away. She didn't care.

Maeve was startled by two warm, soft hands encompassing hers.

“Mae? Mae!" a loud voice yelled.

“No!” she screamed. Why couldn't she breathe?

“Maeve!” The formal use of her name made her look up. No one had called her that in years. “You can talk, so you can breathe,” the voice said.

You can talk, so you can breathe. A little voice in her head kept repeating that. Until she indeed felt the air enter her lungs. The black spots that had appeared before her eyes subsided as a result.

Her best friend was kneeling in front of her on the floor of the bathroom. Her blue eyes looked at her with concern. Sam said nothing else at all. She continued to sit there and hold her.

Slowly, Maeve came back to her senses. She was breathing reasonably normally again and her body was shaking less violently. Had she had a panic attack? That had been years ago. She had almost forgotten what those felt like. And the whole cafeteria had seen it.

Immediately she felt her cheeks grow warm. She was probably as red as a tomato. She could not shake off the idea that she looked like a small child seeking attention and needing comfort from someone else. She was disgusted with herself.

“Are you okay again?" Sam asked, rubbing Maeve's arms.

The question grinded through her mind. Was she okay again? No, she wasn't. And yet, at the same time, she was. The panic attack had subsided, but the turmoil that had nestled inside her was increasing by the second.

Despite the fact that Maeve couldn't possibly answer that question correctly, she nodded and took Sam's hand, pulling her up. “I'm fine.”

Sam squeezed her eyes to slits and shook her head, making her blonde hair move up and down. “No way. You're going home, right now,” she said, her voice imbued with concern, soft but compelling.

She always appreciated it when her friends showed her they cared, but at the same time she was annoyed that she needed that help and comfort. Like a small, helpless child. Maeve turned her face away from her. “You sound just like my mother.” Or in other words: don't boss me around like that.

“I don't care.” Her tone became more urgent. “You're not doing well. You've been acting very strange all day, like you're very far away. I'm not used to seeing you this bad. Tell them you’re sick. Call your mother. Go home. Now.” 

“Okay,” she sighed. “You're right. But I don't have a fever or anything, I don't know if they will let me go.”

Sam emitted a sarcastic laugh. “You could literally send the whole cafeteria to the woman at the front desk to vouch for you. You don't have a fever, but you're definitely not feeling well today. Jesus, Mae, I freaked out.”

Maeve studied her friend's face. Her eyes were moist and her lower lip trembled slightly. She was clearly trying hard to keep her tears from escaping.

“Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her friend. “That wasn't my intention at all.” She had scared her friend so badly... and she hadn't noticed.