Cameron There was a maze in my childhood that I would never forget. It had been a refuge for me when I was a kid, trying to escape from everyone's expectations. Trying to just be. It had been a safe haven until that vicious night when life turned its cruel claws and made me bleed. Before everything fell apart because of one mistake. But I'd since stopped remembering it. It had been a welcome surprise when I found the maze. My mother and I had just moved in a new neighborhood—the sixth time that year. I was eight years old, but Raven had made me pack her and my bags numerous times that every place and every face started to look the same. It only got worse when my father divorced her and remarried. When before her attention was divided between me and my father, now it was concentrated solely on me. It was toxic. If the kid inside me yearned for an adult to lean on, or for a friend, it was easily squashed by the reality that was my mother. Raven's demands and emotional instability stopped me from reaching out to anyone. People stopped mattering to me. Just as I stopped mattering to them. It was easier to stop caring. But at night, when I was alone in a huge house, with my mother out partying or doing whatever the hell she pleased, and when the confines of that house started to represent what was lacking in my life that an eight-year old boy couldn't fathom, the maze had been my sanctuary. She'd lock me in the house, but a kid could escape a house like mine if he had half a brain and enough guts to. Funny how I despised those nights of being locked up. Funny how miserable I thought they were. When the worst was still yet to come. That night that shattered everything. But I'd locked away those memories. Locked them tight. It didn't take long to find the maze. The kids in my class often talked about a haunted mansion in my street. They said it was cursed, that whoever entered it would be cursed as well, so there weren't a lot of people in town who had the balls to venture inside. The mansion occupied a whole cul-de-sac. It was owned by a writer who never left her house. Rumor had it that it took a year before they found her dead body in the mansion, and that she still haunted it up to this day. Especially the intricate maze she had built for her lover behind it. It was a siren's call to an angry, lonely boy. I wasn't afraid of a stupid ghost. Or a stupider curse. I wasn't afraid of anything. Armed with a flashlight and nothing else, I broke into the mansion. A flimsy board served as the front door, as if it didn't need protection from anything. As if it was daring anyone to smash the board and go inside. All the windows were broken and were boarded up with drywall covered in graffiti. I only made it to the foyer that first night before my imagination got the best out of me and I ran back to my house, trying my best not to piss my pants. The dark, cold, and damp room freaked me out like an evil clown about to eat my intestines. It took me a whole week before I tried again. I had cut classes and sneaked out of school, so I'd have the light of the day to guide me. I climbed the long winding staircase that was covered with unidentified debris, stopped when I reached the landing. There were impressive floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated the entirety of the wall. I walked toward them, wiped the thick dust on the glass, and gawked at what I saw behind the mansion. The maze spread out before me. The magnificent green of it, the fascinating twists and turns. I was mesmerized. I couldn't care less about the mansion and dove straight to it. The maze was massive. Tightly packed bushes and trees as high as a house served as walls—some of them dead and brown, some green. A few of the partitions were made of steel and wood, buried in vines so thick and fat I could barely see what was behind. But if I kept looking, and I did, what hid behind them were secret passages and doors. And still, these secrets hid more mystery. Winding in sharp turns and curves and bends and dead ends that I could easily get lost in and leave me confused. Every time I thought I had it figured out, it would change its pattern. I could easily go up the roof and uncover its secrets, but that felt like cheating. Besides where was the challenge in that? Kara reminded me of that maze. I stared at her back, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders as she slept restlessly. Even in sleep, her mind hadn't fully relaxed. There was something inside me that yearned to comfort her. I wanted to gather her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that I'd take care of her troubles if she'd let me. I nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of my thoughts. I couldn't take care of anyone. And she'd laugh in my face if I told her that anyway. It was the confined space, I thought as I turned to face the windshield, watched the rain slide lazily down the glass. The drumming sound it made on the roof. I was alone in a car with the most alluring girl I had ever met. A girl who I hadn't stopped thinking about since I met her. A girl who was fighting the strong pull between us. All these things lulled my brain into dreaming up foolish thoughts. It didn't make sense that of all the girls I'd been with, she was the one I'd want. She'd bite my head off if given the chance. She never listened, was stubborn as a bull, and always disagreed with me. Except when we were kissing. That was a different story. She turned on her other side facing me, whimpering in her sleep. Her long hair slid down to cover half of her face. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't wake up. She looked so soft, harmless, like a pretty kitten, but that would be a dangerous assumption to make about her. She was as safe as a ticking time bomb. So why couldn't I stop thinking about her? I released my breath when her breathing had steadied again. My hands itched to touch her, to skim my finger on her skin and tucked that lock of hair behind her ear so I could see her face. I couldn't get her face out of my mind. Her hair. Her eyes. Her lips. Her body. Her fire. I should be happy that she thought of me as an experiment. But goddamn that pissed me the hell off when I heard her say that on Saturday night. I decided I was going to forget about her the next day, but when I was at the site doing a reno, she was all I could think about. I had a scratch on my back to prove it. I was distracted and didn't see the sharp edge protruding on the wall. It ripped my shirt and skin off. The colour of the bricks reminded me of her hair. Dark brown and gold. But then I realized it was the wrong shade. The colour of her hair was richer and deeper. Even the fucking lettuce I slapped in my burger reminded me of the flecks in her hazel eyes. It was annoying the hell out of me. She was like an itch on my back I couldn't reach. I shifted on my seat when I saw her lips part. She was snoring lightly, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I found that so damn adorable. Did she change her mind about our deal? I had a feeling she'd bow out from it because of what happened on my couch two nights ago. Especially when she came to pick me up with her windows down, freezing her ass off, and the hint of an unidentifiable stench in her car. It smelled like some poison they sprayed to kill cockroaches. She was unpredictable. Every time I thought I had her figured out, she'll change the pattern on me. I wanted more. I wanted to know her, memorize every piece of her. Just like I wanted to taste every part of her. Maybe once I had my fill, this constant wanting of her would stop. Her lips closed, then parted slightly. And then she opened her eyes. And I was lost. I realized a few things all at once. The maze in my childhood both scared and excited me that I would never find my way out the deeper I explored it, but I always did. Somehow it showed me clues, kept its doors open for me to come and go as I pleased. Kara was like that maze. The only difference between them was that I might not make it out this time. And maybe, I thought as I stared in her eyes, I wouldn't want to.