Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, but maybe if I keep pretending I do one day it will be true. Wouldn't that be exciting?
The bear with the ripped off ear is clutched to her chest as she pads down the hallway, making it down the first corridor with ease, but pausing outside of Momma's room, having taken the trek so often as to be aware of the loose floorboards here. With a bump of her big toe she tests the wood around her with a gentleness that she would not have thought possible in her current desperation; silently tears roll down her cheeks, coat her tongue with a taste that is as foreign as salt water in the ocean. Her nose is a mess of snot but she puts off wiping it until she can get around the curve, a whimper escapes her throat, she puts a hand up to muffle it but it's too late. In the back bedroom a light flickers on; she runs the rest of the way, her teeth clenched in an effort to dull the pain. The door is locked.
From down the hall drifts the sound of Momma's voice, an ice cold terror consumes her; her leg drips blood, drop after drop absorbing into the new white rug that Momma loves so much. For a reason or another, she can't seem to find it in her to care; the moment breaks and she finds herself banging her fists against the door, raising blood as they claw against the splintering wood.
"FANG!" Her voice screeches, more shrill than she can ever remember hearing it. Through haze she is able to see Momma running towards her, see her lips moving but not make out a word of what-all she is saying; her fist slams harder against the door, there is a splinter in her palm but she ignores it. For the life of herself she begins to scream, his name becoming hoarser with each rasp of breath, words of a garbled variety are all that is left to her, if indeed these screams can even be called words. She isn't able to see through the cloud of tears, her shoulders pitch forward violently before falling back and her chest aches. Underneath tightly clutched fingers the doorknob starts to turn, a hand grabs at her wrist, with a quick tug she is thrown in.
He pitches his body against the door as he locks it, his face strained as he pushes the deadbolt in the makeshift holder. He doesn't turn back to her until he has tested the knob with his own hands, yank after yank until he is satisfied that it will hold, when it does he crawls to the corner she has taken for her own, his chest heaving slightly as he does so. Stiffly she inches closer to him, her body shaking like a leaf traipsing in the wind; the pain between her legs is almost unbearable now, and with each movement her cries grow a little sharper, her breathing a little more choked.
When she is close enough he pulls her to him, his arms wrap around her and his breath tousles a lock of disarranged hair, they stay like that until they have their breath back. Neither of them realizing a similar track of tears runs down the other's cheek; the boy is the first to snap out of it.
A/N: So what do you think, would you be interested in reading more of this?