Page 66 of Scars Like Wings

Maisie took my hand in hers and squeezed tightly as if sending me a silent message. I returned her squeeze and caught on. “Yep, we definitely need that coffee though! You always make it the best.”

Everett smiled. “Okay, okay, you’ve really twisted my arm about it. Coming right up!”

He left then to go to the kitchen. I turned back to my best friend, resting her head in my lap. There was dried blood on her cheeks and below her nose. There’s a drying sheen of sweat on her forehead from the whole ordeal, strands of her brown and silver hair stuck there. Seeing the same best friend who would snort when she laughed too hard and hid her tears when she read her sad romance novels that I refused to read, no matter how much she begged looking like this… The scene made my heart break. I could cry. I affectionately pushed the hair away from her forehead. “Maisie! Are you okay?”

“Gods, Maisie, we were so scared. Are you all right?” Simone said, her tears spilling over.

Maisie shook her head. She cleared her throat again. “Can you help me up?”

With a groan from Maisie, Simone and I helped to push her to sitting up. Simone motioned to the bathroom again, and I heard the sink faucet run once more. This time, instead of water coming out from the bathroom like a snake, a damp washcloth flew through the air and into my hand. I gave Maisie a look, and she nodded. I gently started wiping the blood away from her face.

We were quiet for a while. When I finished and her face was clean, I softly asked. “What happened to you, Maisie?”

Maisie shrugged, her eyes weary, tired, and worn down. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t remember or understand a lot of it,to be honest. It was kind of like I was having an out-of-body experience. I didn’t feel the pain I thought I should. I didn’t feel anything. All I remember is a dream where I’m in a field full of, like, these deep burgundy snapdragons. I was alone there, but I remember feeling like there was someone—something—nearby. I felt connected to it, safe by its presence, but I had no idea where or what it was. I don’t know if that made any sense whatsoever. It didn’t make sense to me when I was there, to be fair.”

“Gods, this is all so weird. What’s going on?” Simone questioned.

“I don’t know, but,” I stood. “We are going to find out.”

“Iwill literally pay you both to leave me alone and stop asking me if I’m okay,” Maisie said, giving us a raised eyebrow before returning the chilled beer can she got from the fridge to her head to continue nursing her headache.

“Sorry! You went fullExorcismon us, so we just want to make sure you’re not dying or anything!” Simone said.

“Especially when one of uscausedyou to have whatever that possession was,” I mumbled before taking a sip from my coffee.

“I already said that you had no idea I would react that way from trying to access that rune and get more information, Byrd. It’s not at all your fault.”

It didn’t make me feel any less guilty, though.

The three of us leaned on the kitchen island. Fresh, hot cups of coffee made by Uncle Everett sat in front of each of us. Everett had returned to his bedroom to continue packing his donations and organizing what remained to give Thompson space to move in without moving in. He was thankfully back to his normal selffor the most part. But the book was still having some kind of an effect on him. When we left his room to enjoy our coffees in the kitchen, I went back to grab the book from his bed, not being able to part with it for long. Everett’s eyes went distant again as he glanced at what I was grabbing—or, more so, glancedthroughit. Losing him even for a few seconds made my stomach churn with worry. Uncle Everett and I had been through everything together. He was my only constant and sense of stability for a really long time. And now, a book was making him act like a complete zombie and turned Maisie into something from a scary movie. But that same book might be a chance for me to connect with my mom in some way. How was this possible? Why was this book doing this? Was all of this worth hurting those closest to me or seeing them so affected? Should I really be trusting it at all?

Trust it. It’s yours.

Oh, and we cannot forget this voice now. Where had I heard it?Whenhad I heard it? Was I going crazy? What was going on?—?

Suddenly, one of my sweatpants pockets vibrated against my thigh, interrupting my spiral. My hand shook as I pulled my phone out.

QUEENIE ♥?

Looks like you aren’t the only one feeling nostalgic today. I’m always down to show off how I was the most perfect, cutest little sugarloaf. Those are my mom’s words, not mine btw, but she’s not wrong ??.

My spiral halted almost instantly, seeing her name and words appear on my screen. Talking to Quinn calmed and excited me immediately. Just then, a picture moved her text higher on my screen. It was younger Quinn standing in a partialcurtsy in front of a colorful backdrop that screamed 90s. She was in a yellow dinosaur costume that I recognized as BJ fromBarney & Friends. Her gap-toothed smile made my heart melt from the cuteness. Another popped up under that one with Quinn in a burgundy red dress with white lace detail. Her wild curls were in a high ponytail with a matching lace bow and she held a present in her hand as she sat in front of a Christmas tree.

QUEENIE ♥?

I’m so happy my mom got putting me in dresses out of her system. I freaking hate them now.

QUEENIE ♥?

Okay, this one alone makes me wonder how no one in my family knew I was gay until I came out.

I chuckled as I looked at the last photo. Little Quinn stood on a park bench somewhere. She was in a Chicago Bulls hat, matching shirt, blue shorts, and a pair of sneakers. She was so stinking adorable. I replied:

ME

You are freaking cute AF. How old are you in these?

QUEENIE ♥?

---