broken thieves

twenty-one

I haven't watched Alyx paint in a while, so as soon as I saw them sitting outside in front of an art easel, I knew I had to join them. Their brush strokes are slow and gentle across the canvas as they paint the landscape in front of us, and just like every other time, I feel relaxed.

I'm not alone this time. Fauna is here, too, watching Alyx and picking at the grass beneath her. She did try to make me a daisy chain, before she realised there aren't many daisy's around and she couldn't be bothered to move over a few metres to a patch of them nearby. The thought was there, I guess.

Over time, I've started to notice something about Alyx's artwork. Also they are painting the trees and grass and hills just as they are in real life, I've noticed that they've made the sky grey, and something about it feels off. Like, I'm looking at somewhere I've been a million times before, but it doesn't look... right.

If they've done it on purpose, then I could understand why. I know that Alyx hasn't been doing great since seeing the death back at the warehouse, and they have their ways of coping with that kind of trauma. We all do. Alyx paints, I watch them paint, Zavier plays piano, Jayden makes jokes. Then Blake's probably sleeping.

Some people struggle to cope, though. The reality is that death is a heavy theme in this world we're a part of, and that can take it's toll. Not only has every person in this village seen and been though shit that the average person wouldn't believe to be true, but things keep getting worse. Claudia leaving and the news that the Drakan's had left the warehouse was enough to dishearten everyone, as we really thought we'd get Chelsea and Enoch back soon. No such luck.

Maeve is struggling. I can just tell. Recently she's been walking around like a ghost, all tired and pale like she hasn't been sleeping well. She tries to put on a front, acting like everything's fine, but between the way she's been acting and her cold, exhausted eyes, I know that everything is certainly not.

Glancing away from Alyx's artwork, I watch Maeve now. She's laying in the grass with Elodie, her feet crossed and hands clasped over her stomach. She looks peaceful, but I know that her mind is anything but. I realise she has Elodie to talk to her, but I'd have to be a pretty shit friend to not make sure she's okay.

For the next twenty minutes or so, I continue to watch Alyx paint, but I'm not exactly paying attention. Then, I pick myself off the floor and dust the grass off my jeans.

"I'm just going to speak to someone," I mutter. "Thank you, Alyx."

They turn to give me a quick smile, just as Fauna does as well. I return it before walking off, seeing that Maeve is still laying in the grass, only Elodie has disappeared by now. As I approach I can see that there's a frown etched on Maeve's face as she watches the few clouds in the sky, and a single tear drips down her cheek. Looks like it was a good idea to come over here.

I drop myself down onto the grass, laying beside her. She is quick to wipe away the tear from her face, but she doesn't say anything. So I don't either. We simply lay together, feeling the grass grow and watching the clouds slowly pass by.

Until... "I haven't been sleeping well," Maeve says suddenly. I turn my head to look at her, clasping my hands across my stomach like she has. "Like... at all. I mean, I never really have, but recently..."

"Is that what's been bothering you?" I ask, watching her. Her eyes are still trained on the sky, her irises reflecting the same blue.

She shrugs, itching her leg. "Not just that." She's quiet, as if contemplating what to say and what words to use. Then she sighs as if she's about to talk, and I'm glad that she feels as though she can confide in me without me even having to ask. "I keep getting, um, flashbacks. Most of the time they're about the night that Chelsea and Enoch were taken. Sometimes there's other stuff. Like, when the Winter's house was shot up. Or when I've been hurt in the past. It all comes flooding back to me, and it's all very realistic. It's like there's no escape from it at the moment, which makes me feel trapped."