Disclaimer: None of this is mine. The characters are taken from Cornelia Funke, and the story idea is one that is frequent enough in many lives.
Meggie ran. She ran from everyone. The Inkworld, her family, her friends. It was too much to bear at the worst of times.
She ran to her hiding place. Isolation by a pond. Trees surrounded it nearly completely. It was perfect.
Isolation, desolation.
Mutilation.
That's what came next. She rolled up her sleeve, a knife in her hand. Mo didn't question the scars on her arm. Living in a forest got a person scratched up. That was obvious.
"Meggie? What are you doing?"
She spun around, dropping the knife into the pond with a splash.
"Shit. What are you doing here Dustfinger?"
His eye were pointed and accusing. "Did you do that? What else are you hiding?" Meggie looked down. The ground looked soft and comforting, so she collapsed down into it, tears on her face, a weight in her heart.
"I need to feel real."
For a moment nothing happened. Meggie heard Dustfinger sigh. He crouched down close to her and lifted her face to his. His thumbs dried her tears.
"Don't cry sweetheart. I won't tell." He leaned in and kissed her.
Meggie knew this was wrong. She didn't care. Anything to feel alive again.
She leaned into his kiss. It became more than that.
Arms were entangled, bodies became one. Meggie felt whole again. She lay on the grass, naked, covered by Dustfinger's warm body.
"I can make you feel better. Let me help you." Meggie listened to his words with hope. Dustfinger said them with lust.
"This will be our little secret…"