━━━━𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏.

  𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 had turned void, an emotionless gaze set upon the slab of stone before her, yet though in front of the damp grass littered with graves, the girl suddenly felt the blood puddled floor beneath her from that day. The bandaged wound on her stomach throbbed with the memory, the blood, the screams, the pain.

The ghostly pressure of her father's palms upon her bullet wound as crimson fluid gushed rapidly between his fingers. Maisie's cries of pain and agony ring echoingly around her skull, her lip between her teeth as she clenches her fist tightly by her side,

The Miller girl slowly feels her throat close on itself, the painful sensation she felt as she lay in the infirmary upon waking from a two days sleep.

"No."

"Baby girl, I'm so sorry."

"No, Andy!"

Mason recoils as a hand lightly holds her elbow, yet upon meeting the gaze of the young man beside her, she settles into his touch.

"Hey, Moony." Christopher Torrance smiles tenderly at the girl, moving to settle his arm around her shoulder. The teenager leans into her best friend, wrapping her arm around his middle.

The two go back to their early teenage years, the young man arriving in Jackson at merely fourteen. The Miller girl strayed away from the new arrival initially; however, the teens soon turned inseparable as the months progressed.

"How many times have I told you to quit calling me that?" The blue-eyed teen smiles ever so slightly, head relaxing on the boy's shoulder.

"Not enough, now c'mon." Chris takes Mason's hand in his, leading her away from the gravestone that held the painful memory.

"We're going to steal some of Joel's bourbon and get high off our asses, get your mind off of everything." The young man smirks as he guides the girl to the steps of her porch, gently urging her towards her front door.

"Meet up at the cabin in ten."

━━━━━━

The old cabin at the edge of the tree line seeped a glowing light, drunken giggling pouring from the open shutter as two teens sit on the withered couch in the living room.

"That ain't how it happened!" Maisie took the joint between her lips, taking a heavy drag as Chris nodded his head rapidly.

"That's exactly how it went down, and you know it! I found you high as hell on your roof, and you said, and I quote 'why the hell is it called mooning someone when your ass doesn't resemble the moon?'"

The boy settles his hand upon the girl's calve resting on his lap, taking their shared pot from his friend's extended hand.

"And that's how you became Moony."

The Miller girl's joyous laughter slowly comes to a halt, her expression suddenly cold.

"I'm goin' after them, Chris." The teens' voice held a trace of rasp. "I'm going after her."

Her friend failed to lose a second as he began voicing his objections.

"No, Maisie! She wanted to kill you; you know she won't spare you again if she sees you!"

"Natalia killed my girlfriend, Chris! I'm not just going to sit around and let those fuckers get away with it!" Mason tossed the rolled weed into the trash, removing her legs from the teenager's thighs, standing abruptly.

"Believe me; I understand what she did, but going after her is a death wish." The eighteen-year-old rose from his seated position.

"You have no idea how large her group is, how armed."

"I don't give a shit!" The girl crept closer to her best friend till she could smell the weed on his breath and the slight scent of liquor. Chris peered at the girl, watching as her once hard orbs softened as she gazes at him. Her blue eyes glimpse down to the boy's lips, the unexpected desire to feel them against hers gradually welling in her chest. It seemed as though all control of her body left, and in one swift motion, Maisie gently pecked the older teens' lips.

Christopher's brown eyes widened at the brief moment of contact before slowly coming back to his senses. The Miller relished in the warmth of his hands on her jaw as he pushed his lips against hers, her back held against the cabin's wooden wall.

Mason knew deep down that the outcome of their actions would only result in trouble, yet as she began to fumble with her best friend's belt buckle, those thoughts slowly drifted into oblivion.

━━━━━━

Morning light beamed through moth-eaten drapes, the sunlight engulfing the two forms laying tangled in each other's limbs. The youngest Miller softly groaned, the pulsation in her head agonizing. She sunk further into the chest of the body beneath her, seeking warmth from the crisp breeze flowing through the open window. The stranger held her figure tightly against their own as she huddled close, an unconscious hum of content breaking the barrier of their lips.

Maisie slowly cracked her eyes open, carefully pushing herself to a seated position. For a moment, the sight before her lay blurry, though soon, her heart sank as she took in the discarded clothing upon the floor.

"Miller, you moron." The teenager quietly scolds herself, pulling the tattered bedsheets tighter around her bare frame, self-conscious of the dozens of white scars littering her back. Mindful of her movements, the brunette moves her legs to hang over the rickety old bed, briefly glimpsing back at Christopher, who lay in a blissful slumber. Guilt slowly works its way within her chest, a single name popping into her mind as she commemorates the night before, hurridly buttoning her jeans with quivering hands.

Andy.

━━━━━━

The night winds were comforting, seemingly wrapping the girl in its embrace as she strums the strings of the guitar held in her calloused hands. The tune was soft, calming, peaceful.

"Hey." Joel greets softly, quietly shutting the screen door behind him as he joins his daughter at the back porch. Mason smiles gently at her father, resting the instrument against the white railing.

"So, where you thinkin' of headin'?"

The girl peers down at her hands, the man's question lingering heavily in the air.

"Saw your bags, ain't done a good job at hidin' em.'" Joel crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back comfortably in his seat.

"Before I blacked out, I heard some of them talking about heading to Seattle. Was going to hit the road no later than dawn tomorrow." Maisie picks at the grime underneath her nails, teeth digging into her lip as her eyes trail to her father.

"Then we best get some sleep." The eldest Miller states as he rises from his seat.

"We? No, dad-"

"Don't you dare go fightin' me on this, Maisie," Joel speaks sternly, clenching his jaw. Mason traces the scar across her palm, the two sitting in silence.

"You really gonna go through with this?" The man questions, leaning against the railing behind him. The brunette slowly raises her gaze to meet her father's, and the girl suddenly feels something within her break.

"I'm going to hunt those bastards down, and I'm gonna kill every last one of them."