It started with a simple “Now Hiring” flier.
She hadn’t been looking for a job either. Lyria had been walking home from a long school day, her feet dragging against the cracked sidewalk, when she noticed something bright off the corner of her vision. She had seen it a few times in passing, but for some reason, the small flower shop on the corner of the street had a “now hiring” flier that seemed to call to her like a siren. It was…odd, the first thing Lyria’s mind could supply her with. She couldn’t tell if it was the bright red coloring on the text or the placement between the lilies of the valley, but something about it was enticing.
As soon as Lyria noticed she had been staring for quite a while, she had almost half a mind to continue walking. The flier should’ve meant nothing to her. It did mean nothing to her. Lyria knew she didn’t have the time to take on a job, especially one she knew nothing about. What were you supposed to do in a flower shop anyway if you couldn’t even keep a cactus alive? But the bottom line was that Lyria knew she would get fired. It was the same never-ending cycle that she had gotten used to in the foster system. One minute you’re a shiny new toy, and the next you’re forgotten and discarded. Even if she did get the job (which was an unlikely job in and of itself), Lyria knew that it would only be a matter of time before she screwed up and was sent back.
So why couldn’t she keep walking?
It was a simple enough task - one foot in front of another until she was back at the group home. She would get back, avoid others who would bother her, do her homework, possibly try and raid what was left of the food in the fridge, and then go to bed. It was a simple routine, hammered into her brain from a young age. Don’t draw attention. Stay out of the way. Don’t get involved.
Why was she getting so worked up over a damn poster?
Curling her fist tightly against her side, Lyria quickly stalked across the quiet street and towards the shop. As far as she could tell, there was no one in the shop. The lights were shut off and a closed sign was hanging from the door. However, most other shops on the street were still open since business hours were still ongoing. The owner wasn’t joking about the hiring then.
Upon closer inspection of the poster, Lyria noticed that the flier had been taped to the outside of the window by accident, allowing grime to smear its edges. Before Lyria could think through her purpose, she gingerly peeled the flier off the glass, holding it between her fingers.
It was just two words. Two small, insignificant words.
And yet she was still getting worked up over it.
It was a stupid decision, Lyria knew that much. However, those thoughts didn’t stop her from taking the flier with her as she made her way back to the house, knowing that whatever was about to happen wouldn’t end well. But she was at least willing to try.
❈
It had been a rough week. Drowned in homework, stress, and conflicts in the group home, Lyria hadn’t had any time to go back to the flower shop. That didn’t mean she didn’t think about it though. She kept the flier as a bookmark in her sketchbook, seeing the letters stare at her every time she just needed to unleash her frustrations and fears onto the page. She had been right about the siren call that the flier gave, She tried her best to ignore it since she knew that it would only lead to disaster. But as the week went on, she found herself calming down when she looked at it, almost as if it was telling her that safety was just an interview away. It was stupid. A silly little job in a cornerstone flower shop wouldn’t magically make all her fears and worries go away. It wouldn’t stop the ringing in her ears when she was screamed at, and
it wouldn’t stop the burning on her skin when angry fists found her as their target. It wouldn’t fix anything. Yet Lyria could no longer ignore the longing in her stomach whenever she thought back to it.
So, when she found herself standing in front of the flower shop once more, the flier scrunched tightly in her hands, she couldn’t exactly say it was a surprise. Her heart skipped a beat when her hand reached out to open the door. The metal handles were surprisingly cold despite the warm weather—probably just a trick of her mind.
The inside of the shop was a pale pink, smelling strongly of lavender and other flowery fragrances that Lyria couldn’t name. There were dozens of different plants and flowers stacked on shelves and cascading down the walls, all of which she didn’t know the names of. Classical music was playing through speakers hidden around the shop, and Lyria suddenly became very aware of the fact that she seemed to be the only one in the shop despite the sign on the door stating that the place was open. Nervous, Lyria reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out the flier and holding it close to her chest with both hands like an anchor.
“Hello?” she called out into the empty shop, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded.
No one answered.
Taking a few steps forward, Lyria managed to catch sight of the register counter. It was in a corner slightly hidden by the overflow of a particularly leafy shelf. No one was at the register either. However, behind the counter was a slightly ajar door that had a whitish-green gleam coming from it. Curious, Lyria walked up to the counter, leaning over it as far as she dared to see if there was anything back there. From what she could tell…it stored more flora. She guessed it was some sort of greenhouse connected to the building that just couldn’t be seen from the street. That would explain the odd light coming through the door.
“Hello?” Lyria called out again, this time louder. “Is anyone there? I’m here about the job.”
Instead of more silence like Lyria expected, there was the sudden sound of something being dropped from the greenhouse room, followed by an angry stream of curses. Hurried footsteps started approaching, causing Lyria to practically jump away from the counter, holding the flier even tighter.
The man she saw enter through the doorway was not the kind of person she expected to run a flower shop.
First off, Lyria had expected an older man or woman, someone who looked like a kind old grandparent. The man was nothing like that. He was younger, looking to be in about his mid-to or late twenties with wild blondish-white hair that seemed to fly in every direction. He wore headphones that were now slightly askew, and Lyria quickly guessed that that was probably the reason why he hadn’t heard her the first time. However, the most noticeable thing about the man was the scar across the left side of his face, carving his skin from the corner of his eye to almost the bottom of his chin. It was a thin scar, almost invisible. But the fluorescent light right above his head made it impossible to miss.
He stood halfway inside the doorway and halfway behind the counter, one of his hands holding some sort of spade. The man paused for a moment when he saw Lyria, narrowing his eyes as though he couldn’t exactly register that she was standing in front of him. However, he seemed to snap back to reality when he noticed the flier still clutched tightly to her chest.
“Are you here about the job?” He asked, his voice light with hope. Lyria felt…confused, at how the corners of his mouth pulled upward into a slight smile at the question. Relief? Happiness? He was hopeful, but people usually didn’t feel that way about her. It was unnerving.
But it also felt good.
“Yeah,” Lyria admitted, trying to copy his small smile as she held out the flier. “I saw it about a week ago while passing by from school, and I was finally able to make it back today.”
The man reached out, taking the flier from her and staring at it contently.
“I can’t believe…” he started from under his breath, though he quickly cut himself off and turned his attention back to Lyria with curiosity. “You said you're still in school? How old are you?”
“I’m a few months away from seventeen,” Lyria told him.
“Oh, so you’ve probably had a few jobs then, I’m guessing?”
At that question, Lyria felt a rock drop in her stomach.
Of course, he would ask a question like that. Lyria shouldn’t have been surprised - he was an employer and an entrepreneur from the looks of it. Of course, he would have asked if she had work experience. But Lyria had been so caught up in the idea of getting a calm-looking job that she had completely forgotten what employers expected from interviews.
It was just a stupid little question that she needed to answer truthfully. It would only cause later damage if she decided to lie now and was found out later. Even if she told him the truth and he said no to her application, it wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Sure, she could never really hold a job, but they had all been draining and never made her feel like she belonged. She was used to holding her weight in the house and could handle waiting another year and a half until she would be set free to… wherever that may be.
Or at least that was her mindset before she met him.
There was something different about the way he carried himself. Maybe it was the fact that he was young, but Lyria could tell that there was something more. Just a calmness about him made Lyria feel more at ease than she did at home. By the scar on his face, Lyria had a small suspicion that he had been through it and that he was someone who might even be sympathetic towards her situation. Or maybe it was the way that the simple smile he gave her made it seem like he was promising that everything would be okay.
Lyria had never wanted a job so badly. Now that she knew what she might be missing if she let this opportunity pass, she was determined to get the job. Maybe she could finally have a peaceful space to allow herself to breathe.
The thought terrified and thrilled her altogether.
“No, not really,” Lyria finally settled on, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Before Lyria could stop herself, she felt the words begin to tumble out of her mouth faster than she could stop them. “But I’m a hard worker. I have good grades in school, excellent time management, and can think outside the box. I’m willing to learn how to help care for the shop and plants as best as I can…”
“I…” The man started, eyes widening slightly at her panicked spree of words. But he was quickly cut off.
“Please, I need this job,” Lyria told him, not being able to silence the plea that fell from her lips. “I really, really need this, and I-”
Lyria was cut off when a gentle hand was placed on her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts. The man had moved so that he was no longer behind the counter, and instead standing right in front of her, concern evident on his face even though he tried to hide it.
“I get it,” he told her, seemingly trying his best to act as though he didn’t notice her rambling. “I’m willing to show you the ropes, it isn’t as difficult as it looks. Would you be able to start Monday?”
Monday?
“Wait, I…” Lyria paused, trying to stop her mind from reeling. “I got the job?”
The man smiled at her, wider this time.
“Yep,” he said. “I mean, you’re the only one who applied, but you seem like you can handle it. I can pay about eight dollars an hour right now, but if we can make a pretty good profit it would make sense to give you a raise.”
Lyria found herself quickly matching the man’s smile.
“Yeah, that works.”
❈
Damien, Lyria’s new boss (that was a weird thing for her to think about) was a pretty cool guy. Lyria had only been working there for a few weeks, but somehow her new routine was as easy and normal as breathing. When she got out of her last class for the day, Lyria would go straight to the flower shop and set her stuff inside a small room that held a couch, a small box TV, and a mini fridge. The way to get to it was to go through the greenhouse, which was a condition that Lyria delighted in. The sunlight refracting on the glass cast beautiful colors across the room, light dancing off of leaves and pastel flowers. She swore that she would never stop being amazed by it.
Lyria had learned things quickly. Her main job was to stay at the register and help customers locate and check out plants. She would take inventory, take calls and orders, and Damien even started to teach her about trimming the plants.
On slow days when most consumers had gone home, Damien would allow Lyria to join him in the greenhouse as he worked. In all honesty, those were Lyria’s favorite days. Not because she wasn’t working - she rather liked being busy and having to mind constantly working - but because of the company. She loved listening to Damien’s stories. He had such a captivating way of telling what should have been mundane activities, turning them into tales of daring adventure.
Just like the flier had been that first week, Damien had slowly become Lyria’s anchor. While he was still technically her boss, he was kind and attentive, always looking her in the eyes, making sure she knew that he was listening to every word.
She felt less alone with Damien than she did living in the crowded group home.
So of course she began to get too comfortable.
Lyria had started to fall behind in her classes. She wasn’t failing them by any means, but her study habits had taken a left turn for subjects like math and science. She excelled in art, was captivated by history, and could be quite poetic in English…but those damn math and science classes were the bane of her existence. The papers she was getting passed contained more red markings than they had been during the start of the school year, and her teachers were starting to take greater notice. The growing unwanted attention only made things worse.
It hadn’t been a surprise when Lyria got a paper passed by telling her to stay after class. That had been the first time she was ever late to a shift. Damien dismissed it fairly quickly, and Lyria didn’t pay much attention to it. But then it happened again. And again, and again. The cycle carried on for a full week until Damien really talked to her about it. In all honesty, Lyria had forgotten most of the conversation. The only thing she felt during it was Damien’s slight disappointment and the realization that she had done something to mess up the routine that made her feel so incredibly safe. Damien had told her to try and not be late again, and Lyria agreed.
After that scare, Lyria became more dedicated than ever. She took shortcuts to get homework done faster and more accurately, studied more for tests, and even sacrificed sleep for school. But while she was building her life back at school, things at the group home started to slip.
She had always been the punching bag, metaphorically and literally, but it had never gotten too bad. She held her weight in the house, as did the other kids. However, with a somewhat steady income from her work at the flower shop, she started having a pretty big target on her back. So she made a deal. She’d give a portion of her earnings to the two eldest boys, and they wouldn’t bother her. They went as far as offering to be her bodyguards around the house for a small extra fee. The situation didn’t bother Lyria as much as it probably should’ve, but she had never been one for the money. That hadn’t even been on her list of reasons why she wanted the job.
But things always went wrong for Lyria. Right as she had gotten on a pretty good streak of not being held back after class, she made the poor decision (was it really even a decision after all?) to not pay the two boys. It had just slipped her mind in her haze of happiness upon her accomplishment. It shouldn’t have had that much of a consequence. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.
Lyria had been a few blocks away from the flower shop when they came upon her, like vultures to roadkill. It had started when something lumpy and sharp hit the back of her head, sending her vision spinning and causing her to trip over her own feet. She barely had any time to react, but when she fell, the palms of her hands took the brunt of the fall in the place of her face. The moment it felt like her brain tried to catch up with what was going on, she felt a hard kick to her side and fell. This time, her head smacked painfully against the concrete, causing dots to appear in her vision.
It was only when she felt someone much bigger lift her from the ground by her backpack that she realized she was being attacked. Lyria felt blood streak down the side of her face as she was spun around to face with someone who made her stomach drop.
She didn’t know the boy’s name. Maybe she had at one point, but it had been long forgotten. She knew his sneer however. She knew that he was almost ready to be kicked out of the system because of his age. She knew his fiery red hair, matching his cruel anger that burned anyone who was caught in the crossfire.
“You forgot our bargain,” he taunted, giving a smug expression. “We’re not allowed to get sweet little jobs as trouble kids, remember? I’d keep quiet if you gave some green in exchange.”
“I-I forg-got,” Lyria managed to stumble out, her beat being so fast that it almost felt still. “I have it on me, I c-can give it to you now.”
“You’re a lucky kid,” a boy behind the fiery one said. He had jet-black hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken one too many times. She couldn’t remember his name either. “We keep the others off of you, and you give us this in return. Are you not happy with it?”
“I am!” Lyria tried to tell them, but her voice broke in the middle. Struggling a bit, she managed to reach into her pocket and pull out some crumpled fives and ones that she had earned over the week. She held them out to the second no-named boy since he wasn’t the one holding her off the ground. He gave a sneer that matched the angry boy’s as he eagerly snatched the money out of her hands.
Suddenly, something collided with Lyria’s face and she was dropped to the ground like a rock. Her ears rang as she swore she heard someone laugh, and opening her eyes only confirmed that it was the two boys walking away. Happy with their share, and content to leave her alone once again.
❈
Lyria wasn’t sure how long she stayed curled up on the ground, out of sight from any passerby. She waited until her tears had dried and the sharp pain fizzled out to an ache to get up. She did her best to wipe the blood off her face and rolled out her ankle, feeling an odd pop that she assumed meant it was fixed. It didn’t feel like it as she began walking to the shop, but it was good enough for now. Besides, her injuries were not the thing that she was worried about.
Just by one glance at the sky, she knew that she was late. At that moment, her mind was empty except for one thought: this was it. She had already been late multiple times in the last week. Of course, the one time she had begun to fix everything, it was ripped out from under her. A great, wallowing sadness began to form in the pit of her stomach as she saw the flower shop come into the distance. Her hard work of trying to get rid of tears was beginning to be in vain as her vision blurred in the corners once again. She found herself subconsciously digging her nails into her skin as she opened the door to the shop, wincing at how sharp the smell of flowers was. As soon as the door shut behind her, she heard the sound of something clattering to the ground in the back room. A few moments later, Damien rounded the corner.
“Please don’t fire me,” were the first broken words that left Lyria’s lips as the tears started once again. “I re-really need this job - no - I lo-ove this job, please-”
Before she could get anything else out, Damien was rushing towards her, his eyes blown wide with worry.
“What happened?” He asked, concern dripping from his words as cold hands pressed against her face, thumbing away tears as they fell. “Wha-why are you bleeding?”
Through steadily blurring vision, Lyria watched in confusion as Damien just stared into her eyes, only looking at her with the utmost care, concern, and…something else that was wholly unfamiliar. There was no anger or disappointment, just that odd look that she never expected anyone to give her. She expected him to be furious - they had a deal, and she broke it. It was a contract, it was set in stone, and it was final. So why was he looking at her like that? She should’ve been gone by now, not standing there like an idiot who was too stubborn to let go. Damien shouldn’t have been in front of her, fawning over her like she was something of value, something to be loved and protected.
If she wasn’t useful, then she wasn’t worth a thing.
That was what Lyria knew.
That code had been applied to Lyria since the day she was born.
It was as vital and true as gravity.
So why was Damien not following it?
“Wh-why aren’t you firing me?” Lyria questioned, the sadness still very much there, but it was slowly starting to fade into confusion.
“What?” Damien breathed out, disbelief evident in the sorrowful laugh he gave.
“I was late,” Lyria whispered, feeling the weight crash against her chest as she admitted it. “You said-”
“You’re hurt!” Damien exclaimed, gently touching the side of her head. When he pulled his hand back, the tips of his fingers were slick with blood. There was stillness for a moment, Damien staring at Lyria as she just stared at his hand.
He…he wasn’t mad.
He didn’t care about her being late.
He didn’t even mention it.
He…he was concerned for her.
He…cared?
Lyria wasn’t exactly sure what she felt when that thought crossed her mind. She couldn’t comprehend it, because she had never been allowed to. So, she didn’t.
Instead, she took a deep, shattering breath, and leaned into Damien, letting her head rest against his chest, hoping that he wouldn’t push her away. For a split second, Lyria felt Damien stiffen, before he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and another cradling the back of her head.
And he just…held her there.
He didn’t seem to mind the tears that started to stain the front of his pale blue sweater, nor the fact that her body began to quake as the tears started to turn into lung-caving sobs.
He held her like that until she was able to breathe again and was left feeling like someone had taken an ice cream scooper to her chest.
“Do you know where the first aid kit is under the sink?” Damien asked her. “I’m gonna close up the shop early so we can get those cuts taken care of, okay?”
Lyria nodded sluggishly, her mind empty as she pulled away, wincing as the warmth left her. Just as he had said, Damien started for the door as Lyria went into the back of the shop and grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink in the greenhouse, making her way into the back room.
She dropped onto the plush green couch, feeling her stomach roll when she felt something sticky roll down the back of her neck. Lyria slowly lifted her head back up and gently touched the nape of her neck, suddenly remembering that something had been thrown at her when the tips of her fingers came back bloody. Judging by the rips in her skin, she suspected it to have been a rock.
As soon as Lyria heard Damien start to walk over to the room, she quickly wiped the blood off her pants and did her best to cover the injury with her hair. Damien didn’t say anything as he walked into the room, but his eyebrows were knit tightly with worry. He didn’t waste any time and immediately pulled up a small crate from the corner of the room, grabbing the first aid kit next to Lyria before sitting down.
Opening the kit, he began to pull out bandages, wipes, ointments, and other things that Lyria couldn’t quite name. She was still as Damien began to take a wipe and dap away blood from her forehead, being as careful as he could. As the process went on, Lyria found herself slowly starting to relax for the first time all day.
When she started leaning into the hand on her forehead, Damien said nothing. Instead, he sat on the couch next to her, letting her fully relax against him as he finished cleaning the blood from her hair and skin, gently applying a bandaid across the space.
At some point, Lyria felt him move some of the hair off the back of her neck, and he froze at the same time that she did. Lyria’s heart pounded in her ears as she felt him move one of his arms, and a cloth began to wipe away at the blood.
Once again, he didn’t say a single thing as he worked, and tears welled up in Lyria’s eyes once again.
❈
Even after a month went by, the incident was never mentioned. Business continued as normal and the flower shop continued to be a welcomed safe space for Lyria. She had even begun to think that her string of things going wrong was at its end.
It was a Friday afternoon when Lyria got the news. She had walked into the shop, surprised to see Damien putting together an array of flowers in multiple vases and organizing multiple different seeds, pots, and photographs that they often used for marketing.
“Um, you good?” Lyria asked, laughing lightly despite her confusion. Damien whipped around at the sound of her voice, and visibly relaxed the moment she began walking over to him.
“Can you come into work tomorrow night for a couple of extra hours?” He asked desperately, continuing to arrange things.
“Yeah?” Lyria told him, quickly dropping her backpack behind the counter before plopping down in the chair. “What are you even doing? You look like you’re stressing yourself out.”
Damien gave her a pointed look, while Lyria just smirked back. At her response, Damien seemed to lighten up a little, moving away from the array to lean across the counter.
“I’ve been invited to an Entrepreneur Convention,” Damien told her, brightening slightly at the excitement that immediately washed over Lyria’s face. “I’m setting up a small stand to display the shop, and there’s gonna be speakers there and all this other stuff that could help business.”
“Are we gonna get more money?” Lyria immediately asked, which caused Damien to finally break out into a full smile.
“Possibly,” he answered. “I’ll be there for most of the afternoon and into the evening, and I’d rather have someone be at the shop than close it early since there are a few orders that still need to be finished.”
Lyria’s excitement began to fall as the realization fell in.
She was being trusted with the entire shop.
That…that was a big deal.
“You’re being serious?” Lyria clarified, both honored and terrified at the idea.
Damien’s smile softened at that, and he reached out a hand to ruffle her hair, which immediately began to dispel the tension in her body.
“Of course I’m serious,” he told her. “I wouldn’t joke about something like that, would I? Besides, who else am I gonna ask? It’s not like I have any other losers to help me run everything.”
“If I’m a loser then you’re the king of losers,” Lyria mumbled under her breath but was grateful nonetheless.
Damien laughed at that, going back to arranging the flowers and photographs.
“So is that a yes?”
“I mean you’d be out of business without me, so it’s the least I could do,” Lyrai responded, logging into the computer to begin work.
“How humble.”
“Thank you.”
❈
Saturday had been going pretty well, all things considered. Lyria had helped Damien load his car with everything he needed and wished him luck as he left. The day had been pretty slow, with Lyria getting most of the work done pretty quickly and helping the occasional customer who made their way inside the shop. Lyria almost cried in relief when she got a text from Damien saying that he was on his way back.
Nothing had gone wrong.
She was able to take care of the shop without anything bad happening-
Right as Lyria was reaching to turn the sign to closed, two devastatingly familiar faces appeared in front of her.
It was the two no-named boys.
Lyria froze, everything inside her mind coming to a screeching halt.
When they took a step forward, she took two steps back. They opened the door, coming into the shop as Lyria stood helplessly in the center.
She should scream.
She should call out to someone, to anyone.
But her phone was back by the computer and she couldn’t seem to get her vocal chords to work.
Please no, Lyria pleaded in her mind, terror beginning to swallow her whole as the red-haired boy cracked a smile. He’s all I have left. This is all he has. Please-
A sharp pain cracked against the side of her head and everything was swallowed into the terrific darkness.
❈
When Lyria woke up, she immediately knew something was wrong. Her neck was resting in an awkward angle and her body felt like it had been dropped like a ragdoll. Slowly opening her eyes, a pit dropped in her stomach when she realized that she was lying on the floor of the back room.
The memories of what had happened flashed in front of her eyes like a match being set ablaze.
No.
Before her brain could even begin to keep up with her movements, Lyria found herself racing out of the backroom into the main part of the store where she immediately stopped in her tracks.
Dirt and shards of pottery scarred the floor, trampled vines and flowers lying dead on the cold concrete. Papers and lists that Lyria had placed neatly not even an hour prior were scattered and torn amongst the carnage, unintelligible from streaks of mud. From the corners of her vision, Lyria could see the computer screen cracked and the cash register smashed next to it, wide open for the world to see that its contents had been emptied.
For those first few seconds - maybe even minutes - of Lyria staring at the carnage, no breath came out of her. She wasn’t even sure if she could breathe anymore. She felt her brain working to try and grab any thought, any emotion that it could conjure, but there was nothing.
A door opened, and Lyria looked up to see where Damien had stopped right at the entrance, staring shell-shocked at the place.
At that moment, as Damien looked around at what Lyria knew to be his life’s work, a million different emotions flashed across his face. But as his eyes slowly turned to Lyria’s own, the switching emotions suddenly stopped to one that Lyria had prayed she would never see.
Betrayal.
Dead, cold, and remorseful betrayal.
“I…” Lyria’s words came out less than a wisp of air, all other things that she could say getting lost in her tongue as she saw a tear streak across her friend’s face.
No, not her friend.
Damien had become more than an employer, more than a friend.
He had become a brother.
A brother who poured his heart out to anyone who would hold it, wanting nothing more than to make others smile when his scar couldn’t quite let him.
A brother who had just lost everything.
“Get out.”
Lyria felt her heart jump into her throat.
“Damien…”
“I said get out!” Damien shouted, his voice tearing at the words as he moved from the door, pointing at it with a harsh unforgiving finger. “I never want to see you ever again.”
Lyria took a heaving breath in……….
………
……..
…….
……
…..
….
…
..
.
and didn’t let it out until her sobs echoed down the street as she left.
❈
No matter how hard Lyria tried, she couldn’t seem to get rid of that damned flier.
Every time she thought she had thrown it away, she found it sitting inside her pocket, folded up nicely waiting for her. When she dropped it on the cold concrete on her way to school (avidly avoiding the usual route past the shop), she could find it tucked between the pages of her book.
She didn’t know whether or not she loved or loathed its constant reappearance.
She had hated it at first, of course. It was a constant reminder of everything she had ever wanted and how she could never have it. The two boys had been moved to a separate group home across the state because of ‘legal reasons’, so there should have been no stress going back to the home after school. But it never felt right. Every time she looked at that damned flier, an ache would form in her chest for hours. She was unable to fall asleep at night, and would just stare at her ceiling, wishing to feel empty instead of the pain that curled around her lungs like thorns.
Even though it hurt, she continued to hold onto that flier like it was the only real thing left.
However, that changed a little over a week later.
Lyria was taking her new route back from school, music from her earbuds blasting out the rest of the world as she tried to silence her thoughts. Her hands were shoved into her hoodie pocket, gripping tightly at the flier as she stared down at her footfalls.
Fifteen more steps.
Take a left.
Thirty-six steps before crossing the street, arriving at the house.
She didn’t need to look at the street signs.
She didn’t trust herself to look at them, afraid that she would find herself in front of the store.
She was six steps away from turning left when she heard a car pull up beside her.
The moment she looked up, she knew that she should have just kept walking.
Because as soon as she saw it, she knew it was Damien’s car.
He didn’t even need to roll down his window for her to know that it was him.
Damien looked dreadful. There were heavy bags under his eyes like he’d had the same horrible luck with sleeping as she did, and his face was slightly red and puffy like he’d been crying.
He didn’t say anything as Lyria got into the passenger seat, putting her backpack down by her feet. She clicked in her seatbelt and stared intensely out of the window as Damien drove, trying her best to only focus on the blurring colors instead of the fact that Damien seemed near tears. He drove until they were at the shop, the one place Lyria had been trying to avoid.
She wasn’t exactly sure what she felt when they sat in the car, staring at the shop.
It was the catalyst and the epilogue, all in the same.
“I got access to the street security cameras,” Damien said quietly, cutting through Lyria’s thoughts. “I saw them, entering and leaving the shop.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Oh,” Lyria echoed, not really knowing what else to say. What was she even supposed to say? It didn’t change the fact that the shop had gotten destroyed, didn’t change the fact that Lyria was fired. It didn’t change the fact that Lyria had failed.
Lyria had failed Damien.
There was no denying that fact, no excuse that could ever make it all alright.
There wasn’t going to be a nice, tied-up-with-a-ribbon end, no matter how much Lyria tried.
And maybe that was the thing.
Lyria had tried. She had always been trying, her whole life. She had tried to give and give in hopes of receiving, in hopes of someone giving back. And sometimes it worked, though only for a little bit. But this one still hurt more. And no security cameras were going to change that.
Because realistically, she could’ve done more. She could have fought back and could have called the police. She could have screamed, or called Damien.
Hell, she could have even told Damien the truth the second he walked out the door.
But she didn’t do any of those things.
And now she was living with those consequences-
“I’m sorry.”
The words were whispered next to her, so quietly that Lyria had almost missed them. Holding in a breath, she slowly turned to see Damien leaning forward, his forehead pressed into the rim of the steering wheel while his white-knuckle grip held it captive as well.
Lyria opened her mouth to attempt to say something more, but before she could, a sob tore from the broken brother beside her.
“I’m sorry!” He told her again, his body shaking from the force of his sobs. “I jumped to conclusions and you paid the price for it. From the moment I first walked in, I should’ve known something was wrong! But I was too blind to see it.”
“What are you talking about?” Lyria asked, her voice barely more than a rough wisp of air as she felt her lungs begin to constrict.
“I was able to get access to the cameras a few hours after you left,” he confessed, his eyes still screwed shut, refusing to look at her. “I was able to show it to the police department and they were able to take care of it. That’s how I sorta found out about…everything.”
And that…
That was nothing even close to what Lyria ever expected to hear. She bet she looked like a fish out of water at that moment.
She just…stared at him.
That was why the boys weren’t there anymore.
Damien had…
He had taken care of it. He had saved her, and he didn’t even know it.
Someone had saved her.
“I’m so, so sorry!” He continued, unaware of everything going through Lyria’s mind. “This was the only safe palace you had, and I took that away from you all because I couldn’t see past my damn self! I failed you.”
Those three words caused Lyria to finally look away, feeling blood rush to her face as her earlier words were echoed back to her. She bit on the inside of her cheek, looking at the plants inside the shop. She tried her best to hold back her tears, but it was nearly impossible with Damien crying beside her.
It was impossible.
A stray tear rolled down her cheek.
And then another.
And then another.
More and more tears fell from her lashes, blurring her vision.
Soon enough she felt her body begin to move on its own, moving closer to Damien and resting her forehead against his shoulder blade as he cried, still hunched over the steering wheel. She felt Damien still for a moment in between heaving sobs. He jostled her slightly, taking the arm that she was leaning on, and wrapped it around her back, doing his best to hold her to his side.
Even though heaving sobs and unspoken words, Lyria felt safer than she ever had. She still felt angry, sad, confused, and horrified.
But as Damien held her, their vulnerability and tears mixing until it was indistinguishable from its owner, Lyria didn’t feel scared.
With tears running down her face and a comforting presence against hers, Lyria felt safe.
She felt safe.
Because for once in her life, Lyria had been saved.
And it was all thanks to a damn flier.