Room 221 || Lucaya

Welcome Home, Honey

MAYA'S POV:

My entire body cringes at the sound of my phone with another text; my nerves are numbed, my bones quiver, and my muscles ache.

"Hey, Penelope, I'd like to talk to you."

A cold shiver creeps up my spine until it reaches my brain, then it hits me like a ton of bricks.

"Please, Maya, it's been too long."

This is not the bad guy speaking.

"Weeks?"

My eyelids slowly flutter closed in disappointment.

"No months."

A sharp, frozen wisp of air inhales into my lungs, taking my breath away.

"Maybe a year."

The pain his words cause translate directly—I can physically and emotionally feel every syllable he is writing.

"Are you ok? Please talk to me. I need to see you."

Need is a strong word, four simple letters of the alphabet put together to scare the living hell out of me.

"Maya, please answer your phone."

I purse my lips in pain, knowing that replying will only damage the situation.

The one thing he wants me to do, I can't do.

Lucas has not seen me in a month. To some people, that is not a lot of time. That is normal to not see someone for a month, especially in college. But for me, this past month has changed me inside and out. This past month has torn me up to pieces, but yet to put me back together. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, I am changed.

I have scared the boy already. This time, I do not want it to be for good.

All these thoughts, emotions, and fears running through my mind are interrupted by a harsh knock on my door. I glance over at the door, wondering who could possibly be knocking on the door of Room 221 on a Saturday night.

But the knocking grows louder, forcing me to painfully stand up from the bed and walk over to it.

"Who is it?"

"Just please open the door, Maya," the voice outside the door pleads. I swing the door open gently to reveal a slightly buffer Lucas Friar.

"Please leave," I whisper quickly before attempting to slam the door on his face.

I do not hate Lucas. I am not mad at Lucas. I am not upset with Lucas. I am scared of what might happen if he discovers the effects of that night.

Lucas shoves his hand into the door, stopping it from closing. "Can we just talk? Maya, it's been a month."

Walking over to my bed, I sigh in frustration. Lucas's footsteps tetter behind me slowly, waiting anxiously for my voice to boom.

"You shouldn't be here," I whisper, not making direct eye contact with him as I nervously tug on the edges of my gray sweatshirt.