Some Little Princesses

Darkness pressed in around her. The silent house attempted to settle, little creaks and groans making low moans in the night. Lying on her back, she simply listened. Leave, she told herself. Don't stay and break your heart.

And no matter what they said...she really did have a heart.

Delicate skin was exposed to the light as the quilted blanket slipped from frail shoulders and pooled in her lap. Fingers danced across the worn, faded, and loved fabric. A part of her wanted to stay. A part of her was convinced that maybe these people could grow to love her. Another part said that it knew better. She was better off on her own, continuing to live and exist as best as she could. That was what she was made for. That was what everyone was made for.

Shoving the blanket forward, she swung her legs off the couch and looked down at them for a moment. Bare, slender, almost ghost white in the darkness. She wiggled her toes, allowing a smile to touch her face as they laced into the carpet. She hadn't done that in a long time. She hadn't had the time or the carpet to do it. She wanted to be able to take this memory with her.

It would be the only thing she could take with her.

Izzy forced herself to stand up and took her shoes from their resting place and slipped out of the living room. She wouldn't look back. If she did, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to make herself leave at all.

She slipped down the hall, her feet skimming the ragged carpet until she came to the door. A deep breath before she reached up, her fingers grasping at the cold metal of the door handle. She whispered a good-bye without even looking back over her shoulder.

The door opened onto a small porch that looked out onto a ragged street. A fence separated the darkened yard from the world outside of it, and looking at the conditions of the cars and other house, she could understand why. She closed the door behind her even as he hand strayed into her pocket looking for her cellphone. She wasn't stupid enough to walk around in a place like this alone.

"Running off than?" a soft British accent asked.

Izzy jumped as she spun around to look at Wesley who lounged in a small chair, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. "I don't belong here."

"No, you don't," he agreed. "But Andrea would never forgive me if I let ye run off in the middle of the night. Sit down."

She hesitated for a moment before she sighed. She had looked back, it was too late for her. Izzy sat down in one of the other small chairs, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "You shouldn't have said anything."

"Likely not," he agreed. "But I've always been a dumb ass."