Echoes of Three Souls

Chapter 1: Maeve Prologue

^^^Maeve^^^

I convinced myself that loneliness was my fate. I locked the world out, afraid to let anyone in—terrified that if I did, I'd lose them, too. I had already lost so much, and I couldn't afford to feel that kind of pain again. It became an unshakable truth, a sentence I imposed on myself: I was a danger to those I loved, and the only way to protect them was to keep them at arm's length. I was a loner. I *deserved* to be alone.

It all began when I was just eight years old. We were driving home from my ballet recital, the air still buzzing with excitement. Then, in an instant, everything shattered. A drunk driver hit us head-on, and life as I knew it ended. I still hear it—the crash, the deafening crunch of metal, my mother's scream. I remember their faces as if it happened yesterday: my parents turning to look at me one last time, eyes full of love and fear, whispering their final words.

"We love you."

And then, silence.

They never spoke again. That night, I lost them both. The nightmares never let me forget. And after that, I stopped letting anyone close. I couldn't. Losing people was too much to bear. So I chose solitude. It was easier that way, safer. I became a ghost, moving through life without attachments, convinced that I deserved nothing more than my own isolation.

I drifted through my teenage years like a ghost, invisible yet painfully aware. A wallflower, wrapped in a suffocating blanket of darkness and melancholy. I was shy, awkward, and quiet—a perfect storm of insecurities. Braces clung to my teeth, acne dotted my skin, and I carried extra weight that made me an easy target. The bullies saw me and pounced.

Every day, their words followed me through the halls like shadows I couldn't escape.

"Why don't you just disappear? No one would notice."
"Watch out for the fat freak."
"She killed her parents, didn't you hear?"

Their voices were daggers, stabbing at my already fragile sense of self. The whispers never stopped, relentless and cruel. But I didn't fight back. I couldn't. I just let it wash over me, suffocating under their words, retreating into the safety of my room—the only sanctuary my grandparents could offer me. There, surrounded by the scattered books that lined my shelves and floor, I found my only escape. Each story became a refuge, each page a doorway out of my misery.

But the bullying grew worse. Teachers noticed. So did the staff. Eventually, my grandparents made the decision I couldn't: they pulled me from public school and enrolled me in online classes. My tormentors couldn't reach me there, and for the first time in years, I could breathe. My grandparents became my only friends, my only source of comfort in a world that seemed determined to break me.

When the nightmares came, dragging me back to the night I lost everything, I would crawl into their bed. They'd wrap me in their warmth, whispering kind words to chase away the darkness. In those moments, their love was the only thing that kept me from drowning entirely.

By the time I graduated high school, I was determined to become someone else—a new version of myself, a *glow up*. I traded emotional eating for early morning workouts, shed the weight I had carried for years, both physically and mentally. The braces came off, the acne faded, and for the first time, I embraced my femininity. I learned how to apply makeup, how to style my hair, how to feel beautiful in my own skin. In just a year, I became unrecognizable, even to myself.

The nightmares that haunted me began to fade, though not entirely. Therapy helped, and I enrolled in community college, both in person and online, testing the waters of a world I had shut myself off from for so long. But despite the external transformation, something still held me back. I was still alone, unable to form real connections, as if the scars on my heart were too deep for anyone to reach.

Then I met Devin.

Devin was everything I wasn't: confident, warm, outgoing and strong willed. She took me under her wing with an openness that caught me off guard. Her energy was comforting, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. She welcomed me into her world—into her friend circle, her life, and eventually, her home. When she found out I was living in a run-down motel, scraping by until I could afford a place to rent, she and her husband, James, insisted I move into their guest house. I resisted at first, but Devin wouldn't take no for an answer.

Living with them was healing in a way I never expected. Witnessing a family—an intact, loving, 'nuclear' family—was painful at first, stirring up old wounds I thought had healed. But over time, it became a balm for my soul. Devin and James had four children—Olive, Aurora, Mila, and Henry—and each one of them became a small light in my otherwise dim world. They filled the cracks in my heart with their laughter, their innocence, their love. They became the family I never thought I'd have.

Eventually, I moved out. I found a small apartment, and for the first time in my life, I was truly on my own. But the weight of solitude returned, heavier than ever. I had built a new life, but I was still haunted by the same old loneliness, the nagging belief that I was destined to die alone—just me and my little chunky grey cat, Archie. Love, I convinced myself, wasn't something I would ever experience.

I had no idea how wrong I was.

In just a few short months, everything would change. I would meet two souls who would turn my world upside down, heal parts of me I didn't know were broken, and, in return, I would help heal them.

This is my story—the story of how I met the people who would change my life forever. And how, together, we would find a way out of the darkness.