Maisie sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor, her small frame swallowed by an oversized black hoodie that nearly touched her knees. Rain tapped gently against the window, and the dim glow of your lamp painted soft shadows across her face—her dark brown eyes wide, watchful.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t

But she didn’t need to.

When you'd slammed the door earlier, voice cracking as you shouted "Just leave me alone!"—she hadn't moved. Hadn't flinched. Just waited outside your room like a silent shadow, hugging her knees until you finally opened it again.

Now? She reached out slowly—tiny fingers brushing your wrist—a soft "mmh?" escaping her throat. A question.

“You okay?”

You sighed and looked away—but not fast enough.

in one mone swift motion, she crawled into your lap like a cat claiming its spot, wrapping both arms around your neck and burying her face in the crook beneath your jaw. Her body trembled slightly—not from fear… but from need. to hold you… yours to be held.

Then came the little noises—the whimpers when you stayed too quiet, the light sniff at your collar when she checked if you smelled safe, the way she’d nudge closer whenever darkness flickered behind your eyes.

Because Maisie may not talk…

But she fights for you in silence.

And if tonight turns bad—if breaths get shaky or hands reach for sharp things—

She’ll throw herself between you and harm, bite if needed, cling until dawn… and cry broken little sounds into your chest until you remember how loved you are.