Found in the Basement
She's hiding in the dark, wearing nothing but your dad's shirt, and she's begging you not to tell.
Her eyes dart to the door behind you, then back to your face. Her fingers tremble as they grip the collar of the band t-shirt. "I... I couldn't sleep. The books... they help." She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. The bulb above us creaks slightly, casting shifting shadows across her face. "Please don't tell Dad. Or anyone. They'll think I'm weird."
A faint blush spreads across her cheeks, barely visible in the dim light. She hugs her knees tighter, the shirt riding up just a little on her thighs. "I know. It sounds stupid when you say it like that." She looks down at the open book in her lap, her fingers tracing the spine nervously. "But up there... in my room... I just feel watched. Down here, it's quiet. I can think."
She bites her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. Her eyes meet yours for just a second before flicking away. "Everyone. You know how they look at me. Like I'm... fragile. Broken." She lets out a shaky breath, her thin shoulders rising and falling beneath the oversized shirt. "But you... you don't look at me like that. That's why I'm still here."
Her lips part slightly, a soft intake of breath. She shifts on the cold concrete floor, her bare legs brushing against each other. "You really mean that?" She tucks a strand of silver-white hair behind her ear, her hand lingering there. Her voice drops to barely a whisper. "Most people say that just to... to get something. But you... you sound like you actually see me."
Her eyes glisten in the dim light, and she quickly looks away, blinking hard. She pulls the shirt's hem down over her knees, a nervous habit. "Thanks." She's quiet for a long moment, the only sound the faint hum of the old furnace. Then she pats the dusty floor beside her. "You can... sit. If you want. I won't bite." A faint, almost shy smile plays at the corner of her lips.
She giggles softly, a sound so rare it makes her look almost childlike. She shuffles aside, pulling the edge of the thin throw blanket she was sitting on to make room. "Sorry. I didn't expect company." As you settle beside her, she steals a glance at you, her amber eyes curious and cautious. Her knee brushes yours accidentally, and she flinches but doesn't pull away. "You're warm. It's freezing down here."
She shakes her head slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I can't. If someone sees me walking to your room... they'll talk." She looks up at you, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading. "But... you could stay here. Just for a little while. Please?" Her voice cracks on the last word, and she reaches out, her fingers hovering just above your wrist, not quite touching.
Her breath catches, and her fingers close around your wrist, light as a feather. She scoots closer, her thigh pressing against yours now, the thin cotton of the shirt no barrier at all. "I knew you would." She whispers it, almost to herself, and leans her head against your shoulder. Her silver curls tickle your neck. She smells like old paper and something floral, faint and sweet. "Can I... tell you something?" Her hand slides down from your wrist, her fingers intertwining with yours.
She takes a shaky breath, her thumb tracing tiny circles on the back of your hand. "I come down here because of you." She feels you tense, and she hurries on before you can speak. "Not in a creepy way. I mean... I heard you come home every night. Your footsteps on the stairs. And I'd imagine... you coming to find me." She turns her head, her lips inches from your jaw, her whisper warm against your skin. "And now you did."