January 21st:

She possesses the type of attraction that goes overlooked at first. A certain beauty that makes you take a second glance at her on the streets. Her thick, honey blonde hair, danced with natural golden highlights, is radiant in the sunlight but disorderly. Her irises, icy blue, make a chill shoot through your spine just at a glance.

And her lips, pink and full, are always turned up in a smirk.

She's tall. An awkward tall where her arms are too long for her body, and her bones stick out at weird angles. She isn't sick, necessarily, but always so distracted with what's on her mind she often forgets to stop and eat.

Mara Gray is an enigma. The first you see of her will also, most likely, be the last.

What stands out most about her though, is her urgent and eager voice. The first thing to be noticed by Elias James as she explodes through the doors of the public library. It is only mere moments before closing when she arrives. The ancient building is empty of any person and here she is singing. The horrid chanting makes Elias wish he was deaf.

Second to rush in is the crisp, winter air; her entourage. Her blonde hair is dazzled with white flakes of fluffy snow. She stomps off large clumps of slush on the entrance mat, her Converse are soaked, the socks beneath also sopping wet. 

Elias is entranced by this girl who seems as if she could care less. He's almost afraid to look  away in fear that she will disappear.

Elias shifts his weight onto his heels, the old floorboards groaning under the movement. Because the library is empty, the noise vibrates off the walls so loud it seizes Mara's attention. When her wild eyes meet his, she grins.

"Had I'd known the place wasn't empty, I would have robbed it last night." She snickers, watching Elias's expression shift to horror. She doesn't look dressed to be a robber, wearing a bright white winter jacket and a nice pair of jeans. Yet he takes no risks.

Elias opens his mouth to counter, then remembers he can't talk. Not because his vocal cords don't work, they just haven't been used in a while. Rather it is simply a defense mechanism he adapted. The last sound to leave his lips was a scream, and then he became soundless. Clamping his mouth shut, he quietly shakes his head, wringing his hands together. 

Tilting her head as if she can assess him better, she blows a puff of air from between her lips, pushing strands of wispy hair away from her face. She blinks slowly, a few times, her long blonde lashes brushing the sharp under curve of her eyebrow.

"You're kinda weird," she says after a minute, smiling softly as she takes a step towards the fiction section he moves through, "it's cute."

She continues to walk into the array of stuffed fiction shelves, her fingertips sweeping the binds of each book as she traces them. Her eyes, skimming over the different fonts of each title, looking for one. Elias follows her, an arm's length away, unsure of what to do.

"So, do you work here, or are you just hiding out?" She glimpses over her shoulder at him, unzipping her coat, leaving it on top of the shelf half her size. It leaves her in a thin red turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up, displaying the faded ivory scars on her arms.

He nods, twirling his pointer finger in a circular motion to show her he works here. His mother had gotten him the job, hoping maybe Elias would be forced to talk if he had one. However, his job restocking shelves allows him to remain mute, simply having to point if people inquire with a question.

What they don't know is what transpires inside the solitude of his mind. The memories of that night that plague him when he tries to close his eyes to sleep.

He hasn't spoken a word to anyone in two years.

"So you don't talk, huh?" She suspends her searching, spinning on her heels to face him directly. She stares him in the eyes, watching as his big brown eyes flash with something unknown before he shakes his head no. His curly dark brown hair, bouncing over his forehead with the action.

Elias wants very much to speak, he just can't seem to make his mind and voice operate together. It isn't an act of defiance, like most assume. Instead, it is more out of desperation to be noticed; as ironic as it sounds, to be heard. He wants them to know the truth of what happened all those years back, yet he can't bring himself to tell them outright.

"Then how am I supposed to learn your name?" She smiles, laughing as he rolls his eyes. Elias grins at the triumphant sound, pointing to the name tag pinned on the breast pocket of his dress shirt. He is sure she's already seen it, teasing him.

"Elias, nice to meet you, I'm Mara," she extends her hand. He glances at it with a weary gaze, clasping his hands together behind his back. She shrugs it off, dropping her hand back down.

He wants to ask her questions, a million of them circling through his mind. But he can't. The biggest question being who she is, surely he would have recognized her if he'd seen her before. She's a hard-to-forget character.

Wandering over to the children's bookshelf to his right, he returns with a Dr. Seuss book in his hands. She looks at him, hearing his oncoming footsteps. Her intrigued gaze darts to the title, her eyes flicking over the words, Oh, the Places You'll Go!

"Are you asking where I'm from?" she chuckles. He nods, relieved she understood what he was trying to say.

Most people don't.

"The psych ward." She shrugs, her lips turning up into a smirk once again upon seeing Elias's expression flicker to worry. His eyes raked over her lean, angular figure. They stop at the scars she doesn't try to hide. She is strange, sure, but she doesn't seem psychotic.

Though she isn't lying. Mara Gray has almost killed herself three times now. In a manic state of mind, running out in front of speeding cars on the highway seemed like a test of her strength. She doesn't realize that jumping off a rooftop would result in death. Seeking the thrill of the moment just before she crashes, her freest moments soaring high above the world. 

She seeks the high. When she feels she is better, she goes off her prescribed medication. It always results into a downward cycle. She won't realize she is sick again until put under sedatives, stuffed away in another room with white walls.

"Don't worry, I'm not crazy, anymore," she titters, rolling her eyes entertained. "And don't go judging me considering you don't talk."

He gazes at her, not frightened but entranced by her allure. She proceeds down the aisle, her eyes taking in each book until she lands on one. Her long fingers snatch it from its place between two other novels, fingertips brushing over the engraved title.

Clutching To Kill a Mockingbird in her hands, she flashes him a smile. Seizing her jacket from its place on top of the shelf, she skips back towards the entrance. The snow on her shoes, now melted, leaves a puddle in their place. Her long honey hair, sashaying down her back in wetted strands. 

With one hand on the door handle, she turns to look at Elias, who hasn't left his place. He's watching her with a curious expression. Twisting a lock of thick hair behind her ear and tucking the book under her arm, a wicked grin takes over her features.

"Until we meet again," she yells into the emptiness of the wide-open room, her voice bounding off of the walls. She salutes him with a smile and two fingers to her temple. 

And then she is gone, as if she were never there. Only the lingering fragrance of her pine scent is left as her imprint. Elias never once realizes that she didn't check the book out.

---

Authors Note:

Thoughts?

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- Nia

Edited 3/26/23