Darling Belle

Nine

'I thought I saw you...'

Nico's eyes lowered, clasping their hands in one swift swoop and hauling her down the hall. 'You thought you saw me, hmm?' he said dismissively like he wasn't really paying attention but merely repeating the very meaningless idea that left her mouth.

Maisie struggled for a moment. But quickly fell into step with him. 'Nico, I need to tell you somethin—'

He pulled her into a small bedroom, further away from the kitchen and library. Silk bedsheets blanketed the bed completely, the baby blue fabric spilling off the sides like cascading waterfalls. Enveloping. Swallowing.

Nico rushed out of the room, and as if he'd forgotten to speak, in the doorway, he said, 'Wait here.'

'Nico?'

He dashed through the corridors, then.

She swallowed hard. What the fuck?

Was she fucking crazy? If that wasn't Nico nor Noah, who was it? A hallucination?

Darling Belle.

Why did that sound so familiar?

I'm losing it, aren't I?

Her eyes roamed the room. A purple-heart wood jewelry box with delicious, flowery designs engraved on the surface sat primly upon an ivory vanity, clustered and lined with fine dust. Burnt candles, a tin of blueberry pastilles, a small stack of romantic classics that consisted of Jane Austen to Charlotte Brontë and a bit of eroticism from Anaïs Nin, an untouched bottle of red wine, tangled medallions & pendants, rotting tangerine peels, an empty crystal glass, pigmented scarlet rouges, and brand lipsticks took over every bit of space.

Whose room was this? She spun in place, her flowing nightgown twisting around her.

But what really drew her eye was the jester card with a pale ribbon wrapped around it, sticking out right beneath the bed.

She kneeled down, picking it up. And observing the slight dents, she flipped it and gasped. In ink, it read NV + MB.

'There's no monster under the bed.'

She dropped the card, jumped to her feet. Looking back at the owner of the honeyed voice. Quick to speak as a reflex of being crept up on. 'But there is a monster?' she challenged.

No scar.

The dark haired boy stood at the other side of the door like he was too scared to step in. As if he were a vampire that had to be invited in to enter.

'Who are—'

He smiled though it's a weak, terrible thing. It silenced Maisie. Strained, his downcast eyes on the card, then moved up past her. 'It's raining.'

Without conscious thought, Maisie turned to the window.

It was a clear day.

It wasn't raining.

And then, he is gone. Again.