Beyond the floorboards || G/T

chapther two • something new

There she laid on the cold dewey grass. The garden no longer a forest to the girl, she was no longer tiny.

How long she had laid there no one knew, but she wouldn't have to lay there for much longer.

Inside the house, Steve had just come home from school. He went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and as he filled the glass, his gaze wandered out the kitchen window. A girl laid unconscious in their garden.

He turned off the sink, confusion and shock on his face. She was wearing old ragged clothes, she almost looked homeless.

He put the glass down and made his way outside. He brought the metal shoehorn with him as defense in case she was a nut job.

Approaching the girl, he poked her with the shoehorn, to his surprise her eyes shot open. Paige, disoriented, shrieked and instinctively scooted away, oblivious to the fact that they were now the same size.

Steve raised his arms in a placating gesture, assuring her he meant no harm. As Paige's wide-eyed gaze met his, realization hit her. He was her size.
Casting a look on her surroundings she realized, no, he wasn't her size, she was his.

"Holy shit," she said getting up from the grass. She looked down on herself. Her clothes were cold and wet, but still the same, however her bag and needle were nowhere to be seen.

"Are you ok?" Steve asked still holding a tight grip on the shoehorn. "I'm sorry if I scared you,"

Paige looked him up and down, noticing his tense posture.

"I'm fine, looks like I maybe frightened you to," She remarked, realizing that it had been a long time since she had spoken to anyone other than her wall.

"You should go," Steve said.

Paige bit her lip, contemplating the reality that she might need to leave. While she may have known the Carpenter family, they knew nothing about her. Where could she go? Outside their house was an unknown world.

"Uh, yeah," she finally conceded.

Just then the sound of heels clicking against the floorboards approached. Both Steve and Paige knew who it was.

"Steve, who's this?" Holland asked confused walking over to her son.

"I don't know," Steve said.

"It's Paige," Paige interjected, a nervous tremor in her voice. "Uh, my name—it's Paige. I'm really sorry; I didn't mean to intrude."

Holland could tell Paige was young, probably not any older than her oldest son Ethan.

"Paige, are you okay, hun? Where do you live?" Holland inquired.

"I don't live too far from here, I think," Paige responded.

Holland assumed Paige might be hungover. "You're all wet; come on in so you can warm up," she said, gently guiding the girl inside, her arm comforting Paige along the way.

Holland had loaned Paige some of her old clothes to wear. It was vintage, probably from the 90's. She gave Paige a pair of mid rise denim jeans, a dark green shoulder off sweater and a pair of worn out converse.

"Here, you can get changed in the bathroom there," holland said pointing to a door by the entrance.

"Thank you," Paige said before entering the bathroom. She took off her chunky wool sweater and replaced it with the clean fitted one. She then took of the skirt and put on the pants. They were a bit uncomfortable to wear at first, but she got used to it.

As she gathered her clothes from the floor she noticed something. A note was stuffed i to the pocket of her skirt.

Her brows narrowed as she gently picked it out. It was a bit moist and she didn't want to tear it.