Room 221 || Lucaya

The Voices

MAYA'S POV:

"Goodnight, Paisley," Lucas whispers from the room next me as he tucks his sister in for bed.

I glance around the room, Lucas' room. Of course, Lucas demanded that he sleep on the couch, and I have his room for as long as I want.

Although all of my belongings now inhabit his room, the room still feels his. Until recently, I had not known much about Lucas' past, or even his present. Being in his room makes me feel like I am tampering with his life from the inside, trying to make it my own.

Footsteps quietly grow louder and louder towards me, and I pull the blankets up to my chest and close my eyes. A hand slides across the foot of the bed, causing a shiver to run across my entire body.

"Shit, did I wake you?" Lucas whispers apologetically.

My eyelids flutter open to reveal Lucas in his pajamas, which consisted of a gray t-shirt and black gym shorts. His hair was unusually messy with his dark brown locks misplaced all over, but in the most perfect, effortless way.

"No," I mumble, pulling messy blonde strands away from my face as I pull myself up.

Gesturing to the bed, Lucas asks awkwardly, "Can I?"

"Lucas, it's your room," I point out as he sits by my feet. "Why are you asking for permission?"

The words fumble out of my mouth as if they are the wrongs ones. At this moment, everything feels like the wrong thing. Everyone feels like the wrong one. With a million overwhelming thoughts suffocating my head, my mind now struggles to differentiate which is right and wrong.

"Maya," Lucas breathed slowly, "What's wrong?"

I whip my head towards him fiercely without hesitation. "You know what's wrong."

The question itself is quite vague. Millions upon millions of things in this world are wrong. People are wrong. People make wrong decisions. People say the wrong things. People fall in love with the wrong people. People meet wrong people. People become wrong people.

Wrong people hurt people, and the cycle continues.

Usually when asking the question, the person knows the answer—or at least knows the answer they want to hear.

"What time are you bringing me home tomorrow?" I murmur quickly, letting the words drop all at once.

Lucas' eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Bring you home? You want to go home?"

I sigh, the heat of my breath rising in the air. "You know I can't stay here, Lucas."

"Why not?" He objects sharply with a pang in his voice that sounds awfully familiar to my ears.

"God damnit, Maya! Just get out of here."

My teeth chew nervously at my chapped lips, clamping down hard at times. "I—I have school. I've missed too many days already."

"You're lying," Lucas snaps unexpectedly. "Riley told me you dropped out of this semester."

"You're just a fucking failure."