Filed to story: Maya Thompson and Damien Blackwood Book PDF Free
“Are you the daughter?” someone asked.
She nodded.
“Can you identify the bodies?”
Her knees buckled.
She was screaming and no one heard her. Crying and no one answered.
And then Jamie, so small, so fragile, looked up at her and asked:
“Are they gone?”
She woke with a gasp.
Her chest heaved as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Sweat clung to her skin. She didn’t scream.
Never did.
Just shook in silence.
Jamie stirred in the next room, but didn’t wake. Maya squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
Another.
And another.
It was just a dream.
But the grief never really left. Just… learned how to wait.
She reached for the cracked phone charging on the floor and checked the time. Almost 4 AM.
A few hours before Jamie’s appointment.
Before she had to smile again. Be strong again.
She curled tighter under the blanket, staring at the peeling ceiling above.
Some nights, the past refused to stay buried.
But tomorrow, she’d smile for Jamie.
And next week, she’d find a new routine.
Because she had no other choice.
The night dragged on, and once again, sleep never came. By 6:00 AM, her phone alarm rang, slicing through the stillness. Maya dragged herself out of bed and tiptoed into Jamie’s room. He was still fast asleep, curled up peacefully under the thin blanket.
In the kitchen, she began preparing breakfast-pancakes, a rare treat in their home. But she’d managed to grab a few boxes of instant mix the last time she went grocery shopping. It had been on sale, and with a bit of creative budgeting, she squeezed it into their tight allowance – for Jamie, always for Jamie.
Just before 7:00 AM, Maya set the last pancake on the plate and wiped her hands on a towel. She headed to Jamie’s room and gently nudged his shoulder.
“Hey,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Time to get up. We’ve got an appointment at 9:00. Don’t want to be late.”
He stirred, blinking up at her.
“Morning,” he said hoarsely. “How late did you get in?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He sat up slowly. “You need more sleep.”
“And you need to shower,” she teased lightly, tapping his leg. “I made pancakes.”
That earned her a smirk. “Guilt pancakes?”
“Celebration pancakes,” she corrected. “Today’s going to be a good day.”
Jamie stretched, wincing slightly. “I’m holding you to that.”
Jamie was so innocent. So young. Carefree in his own way, despite everything. But as she watched him sit up, still fragile, still far too pale, her heart quietly cracked. He was brave. Braver than any fifteen-year-old should ever have to be. But still… frail.
While he showered, Maya moved around the small bedroom with practiced ease. She made his bed, picked up a pair of socks from the floor, and folded his hoodie at the end of the mattress. It was part of her routine. Quiet acts of care. Her way of showing love. Her way of keeping things together.
Even when the world kept trying to pull them apart.
They sat down to eat a little after 7:30.
He ate slowly, deliberately, eyes occasionally flicking toward her. “You didn’t sleep,” he said at one point, not asking-stating.
slept enough.”
“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”
She paused. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
They stared at each other across the small table. She wanted to lie. Pretend. But she didn’t.
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
He didn’t press her. Just nodded once and returned to eating.
It was his way of protecting her. Of carrying a piece of the weight.
By 8:30, they were dressed and ready. Maya grabbed his medical folder and checked her bag for the third time. Everything was in place.
Outside, the morning was soft and quiet. Their neighbor, Ms. Janice, was already tending to her flowers, humming gently under her breath.
“Heading out?” she asked.
“Hospital checkup,” Maya replied.
Ms. Janice gave her a reassuring smile and reached out, squeezing her arm. “I’ll be thinking of both.”
Jamie stepped forward and gave the woman a gentle nod. “Thanks, Ms. Janice. We’ll see you later.
As they walked toward the bus stop, Maya glanced back once.
Ms. Janice had returned to her flowers, humming quietly.
It felt like a small blessing.
And in Maya’s world-small blessings meant everything.
Damien’s POV
Morning came like a curse.
No dreams. No rest. Just an ever-growing heaviness behind his eyes as the city began to stir outside the penthouse windows.
Damien didn’t bother to sleep. He couldn’t.
Sex didn’t help. Neither did the shower.
And jerking off to the fantasy of Maya-sweat-slick, trembling, whispering his name-had only made it worse.
When he stepped out of the shower, still burning with restless energy, he went straight to the bar in his suite. Poured himself a glass of scotch, hoping to drown the unwanted desire in fire and alcohol. He dropped onto the leather couch, towel slung low on his hips, and leaned back.
But his mind betrayed him.
