𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨, "The echoes of her voice are what keep me up at night."
Maisie Peters was a songbird, who became an orphan suddenly, thrown into an agency she wanted nothing to do with, forced to prove herself to have a roof over her head. After yet anot...
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"slipping through my fingers all the time"
ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴢᴇʀᴏ
MAISIE PETERS was lost.
Her entire world had shattered at her fingertips, again. She had lost her bed, her job, her life, her best friend. The only person who could hold her, keep her steady and make her laugh. The last person she had on this earth after losing all and gaining one was lost. Dead. The ache in Maisie's chest was relentless, a constant reminder of her absence. Memories flooding her mind, echoing with shared laughter, late-night conversations, and countless successful jobs. It's as if a part of her heart went missing, leaving a constant ache that no amount of time can fully heal. There's a sickening sense of loneliness that follows Amelie's death, a void that seems impossible to fill.
May her soul be at peace. As it was said at her pathetic funeral, the lack of respect for orphans made Maisie furious. With all they had been through, it was infuriating for Maisie to witness the agency's disregard for her friends and coworkers who had already endured profound loss and hardship. Having been burdened with the weight of abandonment or tragedy, and to have their futures stolen from them made Maisie feel sick. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die. Maybe then she could be with everyone she lost. Her dad. Her mum. The girl she sort out when she was sad, Amelie.
She wanted to feel her dads strong arms around her, see her mothers smile and her best friends laugh. Her parents had faded, their voices slowly disappearing in her mind until she couldn't hear them anymore. Slipping through her fingers, and falling so far down she couldn't grasp them anymore. She didn't want Amelie to fade, she wanted to hold her close and hear her echo forever.
★☆
Her footsteps crunched the gravel underneath her worn out converse, the sides scratched and covered in drawings she delicately created when bored. As she walked towards the dreaded funeral. She wanted to be anywhere but there, saying goodbye and seeing their caskets lowered into the ground would make it real. Maisie couldn't cope with it being real.
The funeral for all the fallen was so tiny, there were a small amount of flowers littering the area, she assumed were brought by friends, families and coworkers of the five that were lost. It made her heart ache, she didn't even know one of their names. The young boy who she only knew to be a brave agent, his blonde hair haunting her as she searched her cluttered mind for his name. Adam. He was only twelve, how could someone, anyone for that matter let him or any of the others go on such a dangerous job. That was just the world they lived in.
