_Years ago . . ._

_I was broken_

_I lost my place, I found darkness_

_I pushed them away_

_The people who still cared_

_I killed my happiness, but blamed it on something else_

_Until . . . That day_

_I lit up from the sight of a girl_

_I changed my ways, I tried to start over_

_And still everyday I had the same thoughts_

_I wanted to kill him_

_The one who took my parents _

_But you can’t kill someone who doesn’t exist_

_So I just yelled, screaming at the top of my lungs_

_I did bad things, things I never would have done if they hadn’t left_

_I hurt my family, I ruined my life_

_And then I found her_

_I decided she was it_

_The reason to change_

_So I turned my leaf _

_I started again, in hope that I’d find my old self_

_The boy I was before I lost my parents_

_The kind boy who cared too much_

_But . . ._

_How am I supposed to find myself _

_If I spent so much time in the dark_

_I killed her mother_

_I killed her heart_

_If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life_

_Its that leapords never change their spots_

I think I’ve found my thing. Writing. I’ve never been able to get my thoughts out, but there’s something about using words on a piece of paper.

I’ve been doing it a lot lately, ever since I wrote my first thoughts the morning of Maisie’s mother’s funeral. It was hard, going there. I felt like she could tell, I felt like she was there.

She was mad, that’s why it was raining so hard. Because she was mad at me for taking her away from her daughter. I hope she knows I’m killing myself inside, but I also hope she knows that Maisie is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

_Maisie_. I think as I stare at my writing. _I should write about Maisie. _

I kind of already have but I want to describe her the way my head does. Which makes no sense, maybe that’s a thing with writers, their thoughts that make no sense.

I twirl the pen in my fingers as I stare at the new freash page. Before whenever a white page was placed in front of me I’d get so freaked out. What was I supposed to do? What if I did it wrong?

But now I just smile at the idea of filling it with words that only I’ll read. There’s no stress, no racing heart, just plain excitement.

_My heart races like I’m dying_

_But if I were dying I wouldn’t be smiling_

_Even if I were leaving this world_

_I wouldn’t really care_

_As long as the last thing my eyes saw were Maisie’s_

_As long as the last thing my ears heard was Maisie’s soft breathing_

_As long as the last thing my hand felt was her’s tightly hugged in mine_

_As long as the last thing my nose smelled was that strawberry coconut shampoo that always floated in the air when she was near _

_As long as the last thing my head thought was of her _

_Of the girl who changed my life_

_The girl I am and always will be in love with_

I throw my pen onto my notebook as my heart races. I’m in love with her . . . I love Maisie.

I didn’t realize it before, that this little race in my chest is my heart begging me to kiss her. That this little tingle in the palm of my hand is the urge to feel her warm skin against mine.

Is this love? The way I feel? I wonder if it isn’t then what does love feel like? It must be amazing, the feeling of love.

Again I pick up my pen, I guess words are just floating out of me today. Words that Maisie created, _feelings_.

_I’ve found the secret to feeling alive_

_The secret to living a life that’s worth living_

_It’s love_

_That little flutter in your chest_

_That little burst of light when you’ve found the one_

_But most importantly . . ._

_That feeling of happiness_

_And if you’re the happiest person_

_I mean the happiest person ever_

_The girl you love decides to love you back_

I hope my girl feels this way about me. ‘Cause I don’t think anything could take this feeling away from me.

Maisie is my girl, and I hope that somewhere deep inside her heart I’m her boy.

I shut my notebook, rising to my feet as I grab my leather jacket off the back of my chair.

I need to find Maisie, I need to tell her how she makes me feel. Not that I love her, because there’s a chance maybe I don’t. But either way she needs to know I’m never giving up on her.

. . .

I only have to wait for a few seconds after I’ve knocked on Maisie’s white front door before it creaks open.

I was worried that it would be her aunt who would answer, but to my relief it’s that most beautiful girl ever.

“Davian,” Maisie smiles as she licks her lips. “What are you doing here?”

I can’t help smiling as she tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. Gosh, she really is beautiful. “You feel like going for a walk?”

Maisie nods once, as she steps over the threshold, zipping her grey hoodie. “With you?” She says. “Always.”

Instead of our normal stroll around the town we venture into the dark, green forest that circles the world like a gate.

We don’t talk for most of the walk, we just let our feet lead the way as we step over logs.

“Can I tell you something?” Maisie asks, stopping in the middle of her tracks. “Something . . . I’ve never told anyone.”

No one has ever wanted to tell me something like this. Something personal that means the world to them.

“Yeah,” I reach out for Maisie’s hand that’s hanging at her side. “Of course.”

Maisie sighs as she looks down at our hands that are linked by her side. “It’s . . . I don’t . . .” She trails off, slipping her hand out of mine and lifting her left wrist up to me.

Again she sighs shakily, pulling back the sleeve of her hoodie to reveal a deep, scar that’s tracing her wrist just like a bracelet.

My heart stops in my chest as I reach out, gently touching the pink cut. “Maisie . . .” I mutter, fighting tears that are pooling in my eyes blurring my vision. I’m glad that my tears are fading the world around me. I don’t want to look at this, I don’t want to see something that Maisie’s done to herself.

“Maisie . . . “ I whisper, unable to say anything else. I can’t save her . . . I can’t protect her from herself, and I thought that killing her mom was the worst thing I could do. But not being able to save her from herself . . . Somehow in my mind that’s worse.

“Help me . . .” Maisie sobs, and I realize that she’s been crying. “I’m scared.”

I want to know what happened, I want to know why she did this. But right now what we both need is to know we’re gonna be okay.

I grab Maisie’s hand and pull her to the trunk of a tree. I sit down reaching my hand up to help her sit next to me.

Maisie leans her head against my shoulder, folding her arms across her chest as she brings her knees up to them. I wrap my arm around her shoulder, holding her close as I listen to the world around me.

The birds flapping their wings through the sky, the leaves that slowly drift from the branches to the forest ground. Everything is still moving, the world is still going even though for me everything has stopped.

“Can you promise me something?” Maisie asks, her voice flooding with tears. “A third thing?”

I hug Maisie tighter to me, wishing that for one second I could just take all her pain away. “You know you can.” I mumble.

“Can you promise me that you’ll stay here, and hold me for a little while?” Maisie asks, her head gently shifting on my shoulder.

“Always,” I murmur into her ear. “You don’t have to ask me. You never do.”

I don’t want to leave. I almost told Maisie that, but something told me I shouldn’t. We’ve known each other for only a few weeks maybe a month. And yet it feels like years.

I’ve been trying to figure out why and I think I finally have. It’s because we didn’t start off with hi and what’s your name? We started off with the darkest, deepest parts of us. We told each other about the shadows in our lives, and it connected us on a level that’s high.

I love Maisie Bowden. I realized that when she told me about her scar. I realized that when the feeling of her head against my shoulder was the greatest feeling ever.

I love her, and I _know_ I always will.