Abstract Shadows and Painted Stars

It was the song of mourning doves that first woke me. But it was he sound of tires screeching against the gravel outside that jolted me upright. The car's motor died, and my world stood still. A door slammed shut, and I flinched as I stared through the sheer fabric covering the window, looking up at the sunlit sky. Rummaging through my blankets, I tumbled out of bed and onto my feet. Ice melted over my bones, unsure whether it was safer to move closer to the glass and have a look at the unexpected visitor, or stay rooted in space.

Standing vulnerably still, I wrapped my mind around the possibility that it was the end of the road. That the Agency must have found us and waiting to drag us back to the Agency. Maybe Everett had been arrested and forced to tell them the truth about our whereabouts. Come to think of it, my father would surely remember this place from my childhood; For all I knew, it was my father who sent the Agents after me. By now, everyone surely knew what I'd done and noticed my sudden absence at the office this morning.

Just as I was about to fall into a silent but deadly panic, the door to my bedroom whirled open, and I felt all the blood drain from my face.

Greyson closed the door behind him with a gentle click. Keeping his steps as silent as he could make them.

I gripped my chest and sighed heavily. "Good, it's just you," I said in a breathless hushed tone. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said, alarm vibrant in his stare. "Is it them out there?"

"I don't know," I stuttered, trying not marvel at his cute tousled morning hair, the consistent little frown leaving a small pinch between his brows, the way the middle of his smooth chest was peeking out slightly from his dark blue pajamas, or the way... Oh my god, Ashlyn! Get a grip! We have more important things at hand!

Someone knocked on the front door and I slapped my hand to my mouth to keep from gasping.

Greyson crossed the room towards me, an air of worry painted on his charcoal face as he circled the bed. We both winced as the floorboards creaked under his weight the minute he reached me.

"Those damn floorboards," I hissed.

He turned, standing in front of me like some kind of human shield as we stared at the door. Being out of my control, my heart yawned in response. I wasn't used to someone being this protective of me, and it was dangerous how much it impacted me.

"Why are you guarding me?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

He kept his wary eyes on the door. "They won't shoot you if I'm in the way."

"Shoot me?" Holding my face neutral, I swallowed. "Greyson, if they brought guns, and they want to shoot me, they'll find a way to make you move."

He looked over his shoulder, but remained in position. "You stay behind me."

I scrambled for what to say next, not wanting to give him an order, but not wanting to endanger his life either. If the Agents had brought guns, I would make sure they didn't hurt him.

I had no idea when Greyson had gone to bed last night, but the shadow under his eyes certainly seemed to have turned a few shades darker since the last time we talked. Concern gripped my gut. He must have been too worried to sleep. I should have ensured that this potential anxiety-induced insomnia would have been avoided. What could I have done differently? Maybe next time he goes to bed, I could introduce him to relaxing music. An audiobook could also help. Maybe a cozy television show?

The unknown visitor hammered on the door again. We both jumped to attention.

Grabbing Greyson's shirt instinctively, I lifted a finger to my lip cautioning him to stay quiet. He nodded. Our gaze latched on as we waited for whatever was about to happen next.