01
“Haven, I need you to understand that you aren’t making progress,” she proclaimed. But Haven only intermittently listened to the doctor’s commentary, which to her resembled the annoying buzzing of a fly hovering. After years of sessions, Haven had concluded Doctor Taylor was a relatively repetitive person and hardheaded since she was uneasy to persuade - her analysis on Haven had hardly changed since they had begun.
“I’m going to have to schedule another meeting with your parents...” the doctor lingered on the consonant as the realization dawned on her, remembering that there was only one parent left... if you could call it that. One, like a ghost, let life pass her by. “I think we might need to look into some antidepressants for you.” Haven rolled her eyes in response, this wasn’t the first time the doctor had made such a claim or tried placing her on unnecessary medications. “These sessions were just physically exhausting,” she wanted to scream in her round face, but Haven chose to bite her tongue instead. Opting for the safer option, choosing silence meant less consequences.
Haven squirmed in the cracked leather seat before pretending to absentmindedly nod her head - secretly hoping that the doctor would just give up for today. It wasn’t an uncommon tactic that Haven used and by now she assumed that Doctor Taylor had caught onto that. Possibly even preferring it on some occasions where she too wanted to get out of the office early.
“You know what,” Doctor Taylor began - pressing her plump palms on the desk to push her weight down, easing forward. Her face shrewd, one she often gave before her final “attempt”. “I realize that maybe with what today is... you may feel a bit more... delicate,” she trailed off. The heat within Haven’s cheeks rose, how dare she treat her like some dainty flower. She acts like they don't go through this every. Single. Year. Why would it be any different now?
The doctors’ short stubby legs glided around the desk, the sound of her slacks rubbing against itself filled the silence as she brought herself closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” she cooed, settling herself into the space between the desk and Haven’s knees before slightly leaning against it- crossing her arms in mid-movement as if she were a disappointed mother scolding a troublesome child.
“I don’t have anything to discuss,” Haven softly claimed, if she were to have snapped the response she was well aware that Taylor would keep in the session for longer - prying to get “beneath the skin”. Avoiding the doctors gaze Haven stared down at her hands, trying to hint at another signal for the doc to conclude this torture for both their sake.
After a long pause of dead air, she released a heavy sigh, “Fine. You win!” Doctor Taylor pushed herself away allowing distance between the two, throwing her hands into the air in a declaration of defeat. “It’s your birthday... and I will let you have this one.” Pivoting Haven’s direction before grasping the doorknob of the only exit, Taylor pointed her thick finger at her - piercing a glare into Haven. “But know this, we are going to have an extra long session next time to make up for today,” her voice was firm and unwavering - this was not a negotiation and Haven nodded, accepting the loss in this battle.
Easing a step out the doorway, Haven froze in response to the unwarranted grasp of Doctor Taylor’s icy fingers coiling around her wrist. Her knuckles were nearly white due to the tight snake-like grip, her digits a light purple hue. For a moment, they stood there staring each other down before the doc broke the stillness. “Be careful tonight, it’s a full moon out and you know what that means...” Haven narrowed her brows in bewilderment by her comment.
“You know, the ‘crazies’ come out,” Taylor chuckled to herself as she removed her hand, retreating back to her office chair. Stunned by the unusual interaction, her gaze followed the doctor’s short heels that clicked against the floor - noting how her strawberry hair swayed in its ponytail happily with each step. “She’s nuts,” Haven concluded, snapping out of the trance to make her getaway - worried that the doctor would stop her once more.
Navigating the halls of the campus was always puzzling. Even after the last five weeks, she still had difficulty pinpointing her exact location and the correct turns to make. It was almost as if the school was designed as a labyrinth with its vast amount of hallways that intersected each other - purposely preventing its captor from reaching the outside. Deterring on the edge of defeat and overstimulation, she stumbled toward the nearest doors - weaving through the crowds of people desperate to escape their loud chatter and footsteps.
What was once the town’s historical society’s chamber, now a converted college library, was one of the most historic buildings in the area. What Haven could recall when she had viewed the brochure, it had apparently once been some form of a church - discovered abandoned decades ago prior to the historical society’s preservement and town’s establishment. It was beautiful as it towered two stories high and engulfed by a gothic persona- the dark brown bricks, the arched windows decorated by intricate stained glass and the massive blackened hound statues that guarded the exterior. Haven sighed in admiration as she stood before it, taking in the grand view from the bottom of the stairs and enwrapped by the overwhelming sense of relief - making it to her destination from the labyrinth of halls.
Out of habit, she paused to gaze at the deteriorating statue that stood alone in front of the entry. The majority of its original color had faded long ago, but remnants of its old bronze tone peaked through on the base of the hounds snout. The legend, according to the pamphlet at least, was that a goddess had touched the beasts there to bestow a sort of power for protection of greater evils. In hopes to absorb whatever that was, students and visitors of the town often came to lay their fingers on the very spot - desperate for a little taste. As if it were alive, Haven nodded at the hound in acknowledgment, never daring to touch the snout as so many before her had done - respecting its peace. Leaving the hound to continue its guard, she peered open the tall double doors releasing the scent of old books and wood polish to the wind.
Upon entering, she immediately began to scan the room, spotting Clint in the farthest corner- his nose deep within a textbook as if getting any closer to the words will absorb the knowledge into him. If it weren’t for his curly hair and his signature grey sweater, Haven might have not recognized him.
“Hey,” she smiled at him., tossing her bag onto the table, happy to relinquish that weight off her shoulders. His presence was an instant comfort to her ever aching anxiety. “Hey, back at you,” he gleamed before separating from the book to glance up at her direction for a moment. “How was your appointment?” he queried unfazed when he had noticed the deepening bags under her emerald eyes. Just days ago there was only a hint of purple, but now they were growing more prominent - a sign he knew very well indicating that she wasn’t sleeping again.
She grasped the head of the chair and paused in playful dramatic suspense. “Awful as usual,” she deadpanned before continuing to pull it out and slump into the seat. “I just don’t understand why my mom is forcing me to see her,” she confessed, closing her eyes before throwing her head back, allowing a large thump to echo in the empty building. “I’m not going to off myself. I just... I just have nothing to say. So why can’t they just leave me alone? Is that a bad thing to ask for?”
Clint, officially peaked by the conversation, abruptly shut his textbook. He hated to see her like this, so miserable and frustrated. With a concerned look, he removed his squared glasses and settled them on the top of his head, hiding them within the jungle of his curls. “Mom’s are like that, dude,” he lightly nodded his head, his lips remaining in a flat line. He was fully aware of how her mother was, so unavailable most days and in continuous mourning - always ready to brush Haven’s issues onto the next person. “You know she just wants the best for you.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Haven turned to meet his gaze, truly taking in his appearance - his soft honey eyes, his sun kissed skin and sandy hair. “I get it,” she lingered, now nibbling on her bottom lip. “I’ve been seeing stupid Taylor for five, no six? Years,” her shoulders sagged. “Nothing has changed, so why waste the money to keep going? I don’t understand it.”
Suddenly aware of her poor posture, she sat up in her seat, rolling her shoulders back to stare at the dark wooden table in front of her, “How I’m supposed to pour my heart out to a stranger about something my own mother won’t talk about.”
“It’s just dumb,” she huffed out before Clint could comment. “I have nothing left to say and I... I just want people to stop looking at me like a kicked puppy. I’m perfectly fine! I’m alive, I’m here...” she droned as her arms spread out wide signifying what “here” was, but only meaning physically. “But where was ‘here’ in her head?” he wondered. What dark place was her mind roaming these days?
“So, can at least just for today, can we... can we drop it?” the tone of her voice pulled him back. The subtle hint of sorrow dripped from the tip of her tongue.
His jaw ticked before he reluctantly agreed, “Fine.” A pool of uneasiness stilled in his stomach, internally debating whether he should stay with her for the remainder of the day - ditch the last of his classes.
He thought about last year. When he arrived at school and unable to find her. The uneasiness gradually grew when he continuously could not reach her the whole day, anxiousness pulsing through his veins. For a moment, he felt a sense of relief when he pulled up to her home- seeing her car parked on the street. Only for that reassurance to quickly evaporate when it was her mother who answered the door, unaware and unconcerned of her daughter’s location.
The rain clouds had swarmed the skies the whole week, refusing to pour the pent up water until the moon rose that night. The pelts of raindrops fell with such force he feared that they would crack his windshield. With each snap of lightning, his fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter as he roamed the streets - praying for her to be alright.
He pushed the memory away, swiftly rotating from her as she shut her eyes once again - her nibble fingers rubbing her temples - eager to provide ease to the pounding ache. Biting his bottom lip, he too closes his eyes for a moment and inhales a deep breath. He had lost count of how many times she had done this in his presence, how many times she had taunted him - he was desperate to bring her fingertips to his lips. Dying to remove the pain she holds.
“Well on a more positive note,” he removed an object from his bag before pivoting back towards her. “Happy birthday.” Her eyes flashed, staring into the showcased cupcake in his hand like she was a starved animal. “It’s red velvet,” he stated. “Your favorite.”
“Clint, you didn’t have to do that,” she beamed a tender grin, but he couldn’t help but notice the gloss in her eyes. “Dude, it’s the least I can do,” he was swift to provide her radiant smile, hoping to fill her chest with immediate warmth - with security and safety.
“But don’t let the librarian see you with it, she already scolded me earlier,” he whispered to her in fear that the librarian would in fact hear or sniff him out. She always had a keen awareness of everything happening inside the walls of the building. Haven couldn’t hinder the laughter that escaped her lips, he did in fact fill her with a subtle warmth.
“He is all I need,” she thought. “He knows how to keep me sane... he just makes everything better.” Her face blushed in response to her thoughts. This was Clint she was thinking about. Clint who she used to wrestle with as a child. Clint who she set up blind dates for in high school. Clint who knew everything - the trauma, the guilt... the death.
This was Clint for crying out loud.
“Thank you,” she whispered, scared that her voice might give something away as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Out of habit, she nestled her face in the crook of his neck, lightly inhaling his musk- a simple sandalwood. His body always radiated a soothing heat and it was comforting to be in his grasp, it was safe. As much as her body rejected the idea of letting him go - clinging onto the security, she released him from her hold allowing an immediate wave of cold air to wash over her like she were to have been dropped in a pool of ice water.
“You should probably get to class,” she panted like she had just completed a mile run. And his heart drops. If he were to go, he would have to leave now to be on time.
“I-” she stopped him, holding her hand up between their bodies. “Don’t,” she sternly remarked. “You have a test today. You’ve been complaining about it for the last week. I can’t ask you to miss it just because it’s my birthday.” He sat there for a moment, searching for any hint of reluctance but there was none. There was no fighting her on this.
“Okay,” he nodded, before rising from his seat. “Well then, as much as I would like to stay and share your cake, I have to get going now then.” He swung his backpack over his shoulder. “You’re right. And maybe if I’m lucky, I can get a few answers from that cute TA before class starts,” he winked playfully as he grabbed the textbook off the table. And for a moment, her heart ached at his comment. There was no reason for it, Clint was never hers.
“Alright,” she sighed, chewing on the inside of her cheek, her eyes never leaving him. “Will I see you later?” he crouched down, his face inches from hers that she could smell the mint on his breath.
If she wanted to, she could easily close the gap - just slip her slender fingers into the jungle of curls and pull - no, breathe him in. She slowly licked her lips as she glimpsed at his soft pink ones, before his words registered. The heat again rose on her cheeks before she could break away, in urgency she turned to fiddle with her bag - pretending to look for something inside it to distract herself.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I might go home early. I didn’t feel that great when I woke up this morning.” He nodded what appeared absentmindedly at her response, but she shrugged it off.
“Well, keep me posted,” his eyes analyzed her before he rose, repositioning his backpack over his muscular shoulder. He quietly stepped behind her as she continued to “search” for something within her bag, and kissed the top of her head.
It was by no means an unusual gesture. It was something he had done to her since they were kids. But as the years have gone by, he has done it less and less. Knowing that it often gave onlookers the wrong impression. Haven wasn’t his and he didn’t want to present a claim.
“Happy birthday, Hay. Enjoy it, you only turn eighteen once,” he whispered into her ear before his long legs strided to put distance between them. With each step, he saw her from that day. Her coiled body into a ball laying on the wet grass. Her bony knees pressed into her chest, her clothes completely soaked and muddy. The sounds of her sobs were masked by the pounding rain, welting her skin with each drop. She had been laying on top of her fathers grave for hours before he had come and it was a sight so full of pain and grief, he never wanted to see her like that again.
She couldn’t help the air that escaped her lips - a breath she didn’t realize that caught as she watched him disappear through the double doors. In his absence, she was once again alone aching to feel warm in his embrace.
The sun already began to set by the time she had awoken confused by her surroundings. The table before her was littered with books and pens. Her blurry vision struggled to adjust, delaying the realization that the items were hers and that she had fallen asleep in the midst of her studying. “Shit,” she groaned, the back of her hand wiping her hot and sweaty forehead. Glancing at the clock, it read nearly six. Clint had left her nearly five hours ago.
She slumped in her seat, staring into the stained glass windows that hid their artwork as the darkness gradually crept, leaving only the interior lights to provide dim visibility.
In agitation, she stood. Her legs were stiff and her back tight from hunched over posture. Reaching overhead, she glanced around - taking in the ancient oak that created the endless rows of bookcases to the second floor. The lights periodically flickered due to the lack of maintenance over the years and the air conditioning struggled to maintain a consistent temperature - the fan buzzing for a break. The computers along the cream colored back wall had gone black due to inactivity, it was then she finally noticed all the nearby study tables were empty. When did everyone leave?
With abandon, she crept into the aisles one by one dragging her finger along on the bookends. Each passing book collected a pile of dust on her fingertip; she pondered the question, “how long have all these books sat to accumulate so much grime?”
The library was still, one could hear a pin drop on the second floor as the sound of the A/C began to die out again, she halted at the shelves closest to the back. She could appreciate the smell of the old books and imagined what it was like when the building was a church or whatever the pamphlet had claimed. All the people gathered patiently waiting for the priest to begin their sermon.
Haven personally didn’t care for faith, but it was the concept that piqued her curiosity - the togetherness of the people, the belief in something bigger.
Her finger paused over a slender black book, one of poems. The anthology was covered in dust and grime as if it hadn’t been pulled in decades. The tips of her digits traced the engraved title, it was hardly legible from years of use and now neglect. She blew against the cover, hoping to reveal its hidden des.
“Up in the sky my soul, like a hound, howls, despaired,” a deep voice soothed causing her to jump, nearly dropping the book in her grip. The hairs on the back of her neck jolted and her heart to vault into her throat.
“Excuse me?” Haven stood still for a moment attempting to recollect herself, before pivoting towards the voice. When had they crept up behind her?
“Andrei Voznesensky?” the voice responded in a matter-of-fact tone. As she turned, she noticed they were pointing at the work in her hands before her gaze was met by piercing blue orbs.
“Yeah, I know,” she nodded her head, though she had never read a work by that writer before. Haven simply did not care for this person’s cockiness. She took in his height, his comparable six foot broad stature to her slightly above five six.
“Really? It seemed like you didn’t,” he chuckled, his fingers weaved into his chocolate brown hair.
“You just startled me,” she muttered uneasily, taking a step back to attempt to truly capture his full presence. It felt as if she was David and he was Goliath- it was intimidating trying to make eye contact with him as he oozed confidence. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he continued. His eyes examined her, staring her down hungrily - taking in every inch that was before him.
“Easton,” he extended his olive hand out, causing his long black sleeve shirt to cling to his body, hinting at the muscular definition of his upper body.
“Haven,” she slipped her hand into his as she clutched the book hard into her chest. She couldn’t help but notice how his hand engulfed hers.
“Wow, you’re extremely warm,” his pupils dilated as he held a bit tighter, her fingers tingled in the pressure. In response, she jerked her hand away out of his grasp, feeling the malaise heighten in her belly. “Yeah, actually I’m sorry,” she stumbled, redness prickling into her cheeks - a trickle of sweat forming at her brow. She hadn’t realized that it hadn’t gotten worse.
“I’m-I’m actually not feeling quite well, you shouldn’t be touching me,” Haven lightly laughed, taking more steps back to retreat. “It was lovely to meet you,” she waved him off, before turning on her heels.
“No, no, it’s okay!” he shouted, following behind her. Her stomach began to stir, her hands nearly instantly clammy and jaw unnaturally clenching tightly as if she were trying to shatter her teeth. Something about his presence made her feel.... off.
The sweat on her forehead began trickling down her face when a wave of heat rushed over her, the sound of his steps matched her own - he was closing the gap between them she realized as if it were a predator stalking his prey.
“Hey, you should sit down,” Easton suggested as his toned arm reached out to snatch her, but she withdrew out of his reach. “No!” she yelped, her body pressed against a shelf. She watched as he paused in his place almost as if he was stunned by her reaction.
She noticed the moment his sharp jaw ticked and knuckles turned white, curled into a tight fist. Haven didn’t understand his intentions, but she felt his eyes burn into her skin when she continued to lengthen distance between them. Not daring to glance back at him, she snatched her bag from the study table and rushed towards the front exit.
With each step, Haven could feel the heat radiate from deep within her skin. The roaring fever scorched, it was almost as if she were being set on fire from the inside out. Her heartbeat throbbed within her ears as the double doors were approaching into view - she was so close to getting out. The drive for the prey to escape was overwhelming, her bones aching, her vision was blurring.
And like a match in water, her fire was out.
