Fourteen.

When I finally made it to the top of the stairs, tears were dripping down my cheeks. Stumbling forward felt like dragging myself through water. I didn’t have time to think about it — I had to move.

Mirrors lined the walls, edge to edge, both sides, all the way into the dark endlessness of the hallway. It made the thin, claustrophobic space seem infinite. I closed my eyes and forced myself forward. I watched my feet, but when I did, it looked like they weren’t moving. I watched the ceiling, but when I did, it felt like I was moving backward. So I stared straight ahead and tried so hard not to get distracted.

Face forward. Move.

Had I gotten this far before? I wanted to turn around, to see if it was still following me, but I knew better than to look in the mirrors. If I looked in the mirrors, if I saw myself even once, then—

I thought I saw someone. I thought it was her. But it wasn’t. It was only me.

I snapped up in bed, gasping for air. The inside of my head was burning. I fell back into my sweat-soaked bedsheets and covered my face with the pillow. I could see my breath. I was fire and ice all at once and it hurt so much, inside and out.

It was just another panic attack. I wasn’t going to die. I just needed to calm down. After twenty-five minutes, that’s exactly what I did.

I was always exhausted the morning after a nightmare. It felt like I hadn’t slept. I made myself pancakes and arrived late to school. It didn’t matter - I was leagues ahead of everyone else in English anyway. And when I got to Biology and Madison Bell was waiting at my desk, I wasn’t tired at all. It felt like I never had to sleep again for the rest of my life.

“Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” she asked me with one of her sincere smiles. She was the brightest thing in the room; it was a wonder anyone cared about the weather.

“Are you cooking?” I asked, because I had never seen Madison cook in the months I had known her.

“No, I thought we could order a pizza or some Chinese food. I do want to learn how to use those chopsticks.” She mimicked the act of using invisible chopsticks. Even in make believe, her form was all wrong.

“Sure, that sounds great. I’ll drive you home after school.”

“Yes! I love this plan!” And like that, the day was good again.

I had gotten used to driving Madison around. She always sat with her hands holding the seatbelt across her chest, just beneath her boobs. It was strange thinking of Madison as having boobs, not because she didn’t have any, but because she never wore anything that accentuated them. High school was all about accentuation: long necklaces, black leggings, tight shirts. Even I fell prey to this, with my half-zipped jackets and skinny jeans.

But not Madison Bell. She wore mid-cut dresses and wool cardigans. She wore full socks with flats. She wore her hair in curls so it wouldn’t fall any lower than her collarbone. I wasn't sure I had ever seen Madison with short sleeves, let alone a t-shirt. What would she look like in jeans? What would she look like without them?

She ordered us pizza and we watched a cartoon on TV I had never heard of before. It was halfway through the season, so Madison kept trying to explain to me everything that was happening. Weren’t cartoons supposed to be easy to follow? When had that stopped being a thing?

“Let me do the dishes,” I told her when the show was over. “You paid for pizza - it’s only fair.”

“It’s my house, though,” she said with a pout. The way her cheeks puffed out just a little, the way her bangs fell, and how she would look through the top half of her glasses… wait, what was I talking about again?

“It’s only two plates,” I told her. “I’m doing it.” Maybe it was my tone, but Madison seemed unable to argue.

I washed off the plates in the sink. Madison sat on the counter and kicked her feet, telling me about another episode of the cartoon I must have missed. It was a peaceful moment, the sort of thing you imagine when you’re alone in bed at night, and wondering if the future could be a good thing. Then the sound of the front door slamming shut rang through the house.

“MADISON!”

She nearly hit her head on the cupboard when the voice bellowed her name. Someone else was here? No one else was ever here…

Then a man poked his head into the kitchen. He had short brown hair and wrinkles around his cheeks. His thin, serious lips curled in on themselves until he noticed me by the sink. Then, they broke out into a smile that didn’t show his teeth.

“You have company?” This time, his voice was quieter, but no less rough. He entered the room before Madison could introduce us and put out his hand. “Thomas Bell, I’m Madison’s dad.”

“Uh, Jamie. Lawson.” I dried my hands on the towel by the sink and shook the man’s hand. He had a strong handshake that went well with his dark suit. Lawyer? Company management? I couldn’t tell, but he was no salesman.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then he addressed his daughter. “Don’t sit on the counter.”

She slid to the floor, pulling her arms around herself. I didn’t understand that gesture… I hadn’t ever seen Madison do something like that before.

“You two hungry?”

“Just had dinner, Dad,” Madison said softly.

“Alright, make sure to eat real food too, not just take out all the time. Make some vegetables or something.” She nodded and he turned to me again. “It was nice meeting you.”

He pulled on his tie and left the kitchen. Madison went to the sink to finish the dishes. Well…

“So that’s your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s… very polite.” I couldn’t use the word friendly in good conscience.

“Uh huh.”

“Madison?”

“Hm?”

I reached over and turned off the water, searching for the brightness in her eyes or the sincerity on her lips. I couldn’t find either. I’d finally found something that brought out this side of her, and I really wished it had been anything else.

“Let’s go to Walmart, alright?” But I knew the answer before she said it.

“I can’t today.”

“No,” I said firmly. “You can today. Give me your hand.”

I wouldn’t touch her without asking, not yet, but I put my hand out all the same. She stared at my palm, and then up at me with her simple, quiet eyes. With reluctance, she put her palm against mine.

“Mr. Bell?” I shouted up the stairs. I felt Madison’s hand tighten in mine when I raised my voice. “We are going to the store. We will be back later tonight.”

“Have fun,” he shouted back. His voice echoed off every wall in the entire house, I swear to Christ. He should give up his career - whatever it was - to be a human megaphone.

“See,” I said to Madison with a smile. “I told you. Let’s go.”

The circumstances sucked. Madison was upset or afraid or something and I hated that she was. But with my fingers woven in hers, well… I couldn’t say with honesty that the moment was lost.