Together Under Our Roof

After dinner, Misty and Michael sat on the couch, content with the feeling of their full stomach. They sat in silence, taking in the delicious food that they had consumed.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” Misty suddenly blurted, getting up from her spot.

“Alright,” Michael answered. Misty moved to her room and then locked herself in the bathroom. Quickly, Misty stepped into the steaming rain, letting the water take her away.

Misty stood motionless in the shower. She trembled even under the heat, thinking back on the way she was ambushed outside by Michael. She had remembered the memories she had so tightly locked away, the terror rising in her.

She tried to calm herself but she thought of the cold hands, the hard, unforgiving hands. She knew that those hands did not belong to Michael but nevertheless, she felt the need to cry out. She muffled her cries, crouching under the water on the floor.

Outside, Michael moved around the room, looking for a spot to hang the painting. He scanned the walls, picturing the beauty of the piece on the drab walls.

As the shower grew longer, Michael was able to hang the photo and was now waiting for Misty to come out.

Michael waited for another two hours and got worried. Misty never took so long in the shower and he knew that something was wrong. He moved to the door, and banged on the door, calling to Misty behind the door.

“Misty, open the door!” Michael shouted. “Misty!” When he heard no answer, he became terrified. “I’m coming in Misty!” Michael screamed. He rammed the door, immediately breaking down the frail piece of wood. He ran to the shower and pushed the curtain aside.

Misty lay sprawled on the floor, the shower raining over her unconscious and naked body. Without a thought, Michael grabbed her towel, turned off the water and quickly wrapped her up and lifted her up out of the tub. Misty did not even stir. Michael rushed Misty to the bedroom, laying her down.

“Misty, wake up!” Michael said nervously. “Please wake up.” Misty lay motionless. Michael’s heart dropped deeper. He reached for her cold hands and shook her. “Why are your hands so cold?” he asked trembling, rubbing her hands warm.

Michael crouched by the bed, urging for Misty to awaken, but she would not move.

“Michael?” a meek voice called. Michael snapped his head to Misty’s groggy face. Her eyes were half open and her face had paled.

“Misty, thank goodness!” Michael exclaimed, embracing her gently to avoid hurting her, as his he felt the weight come off of his shoulders. “What in the world happened?” Michael inquired, concerned.

“Nothing,” Misty said, pushing Michael away weakly.

“What do you mean nothing? You were in the shower, unconscious!” Michael exclaimed. Misty only looked down in silence. When she looked down, she screamed out loud and pushed Michael further away.

“Look away! Where are my clothes!” she demanded, pulling the towel and covers over her naked body. Realizing the situation, Michael quickly averted his eyes.

“S – sorry, I forgot about your clothes,” Michael tried to explain, but embarrassment got the best of him.

Misty again was silent. Her face went red from the exposure and her heart raced from the fear. She started to tremble once more and her breathing grew heavy.

“Michael, please get out of here,” Misty said shakily.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Misty,” Michael pleaded. Misty shook her head.

“It’s nothing, really,” Misty insisted. She hid behind her wet hair and held back the ready tears. “Just please.”

Michael sighed and felt a pang of hurt.

“Let me at least get you some clothes,” Michael offered.

“No,” Misty snapped. “I mean no thank you,” Misty said guiltily. Michael nodded, his chest aching at the words.

“Alright, but call me if you need me, okay?” Misty nodded and urged Michael to leave. Michael looked back to Misty, who had her back turned to him.

Although it was only momentary, Michael saw a dark mark that ran down Misty’s back. Before he could get a good look, Misty turned her back away.

“Thank you Michael,” Misty said with a weak smile.

Michael left the room, closing the door behind him. He was puzzled. What were those marks?

“It must be a birthmark,” Michael mumbled, pushing the uneasy feeling he had out of his head.

Michael moved to the kitchen and started boiling some hot chocolate for Misty. Michael stood puzzled and dazed by the boiling water, worrying about Misty. She was so mysterious, and so hard to understand. It was hard to believe that she could be going through something hard.

“Misty?” Michael knocked on the door, carrying two cups of hot chocolate. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Misty answered meekly. Michael slowly opened the door, peering around the edge to see Misty crouching in the far corner of the room, wrapped in the blankets. Misty avoided looking at Michael and held her back to him.

“Here, I made you some hot chocolate.” Michael offered the drink to her as he sipped from his own cup and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks,” Misty said as she reached for the hot mug. They sipped their sweet drink in silence.

“So, I hung up the picture,” Michael started. Misty looked up at Michael with a quizzical look.

“What?”

“I hung up the picture,” Michael repeated. “It’s outside.”

“Why?” Misty was at a loss for words.

“Well because I like it. It looked beautiful so I’d thought I’d hang it up,” Michael explained, “was I not supposed to?”

Misty shook her head.

“No, it’s just that I didn’t think you would hang it up. Is it nice?” Misty asked reluctantly. Michael face turned itself into a great grin.

“Come see for yourself,” Michael said, putting down his cup and motioning for Misty to follow him into the living room.

They rose from the bed and made their way out of the room. Michael stood behind Misty when they stood before the door.

“Ready?” Michael said dramatically as he waved to the door. Misty nodded with a giggle.

Misty and Michael pushed through the door into the living room. As they stepped out, they were met with a beautiful blue clump of swirls.

“So that you wake up to a beautiful sight each morning,” Michael said to Misty who slowly made her way to her painting.

She saw the beautiful colors and was taken in by the sudden brightness it brought. While entranced by the picture, she forgot that she was wearing a tank top and carelessly turned her back to Michael.

Michael stifled a gasp as he saw what Misty had been hiding for years, which confirmed what he had seen only moments before. It was not a birthmark.

From Misty’s right shoulder, a large, faded scar ran diagonal into the middle of her back until it ran under her shirt. The scar looked old in age and painful to the touch. Michael ran his eyes over her back, flawless except for the one line almost warped into her skin.

Sensing eyes on her back, Misty finally came to her senses and whipped back around to face Michael, shock registering into her body.

Quickly, Michael hid his saddened face with a calm, carefree look.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked nonchalantly. Misty scanned Michael face to see if he saw her marks of shame but saw that he had seen nothing and moved to hide her back better.

“Nothing,” Misty answered. “It looks nice here,” Misty said with a smile, motioning towards the canvas. Michael nodded his head.

“You look chilly. Do you want me to get you a sweater?” Michael asked, seeing the anxious look Misty had as she squirmed to hide her scars. Misty eagerly nodded.

“Thanks,” Misty yelled as Michael ran to her room, “there’s one on the bed.”

“Got it!” Michael replied. He ran out with the sweater and handed it to Misty who quickly wrapped herself up tightly. Michael stared at Misty, the image of her pained scars emerging in his mind.

What caused those horrible scars? The question lingered deep in Michael’s mind, making him unable to forget the marks. It did not seem he would ever get the answers. I did not seem Misty would ever let him into her heart, something he never expects anyone to do, especially this timid yet strong and independent young girl.