#prfae

Pulling herself up through the opening atop the cabinet, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned in the light. The light fixture was off, but enough of the sunset peeked through the window for her to see. Sammie’s kitchen looked as inviting as ever, practically beginning to be rifled through.

Mel had learned the human’s name from the loud friends who came over to visit. Sammie, the pretty blond Veillie. She was gone for the night, off to work. Now Mel’s only time constraint hinged on making sure she didn’t return to her home on the other side of the Veil suspiciously late.

But that wouldn’t be an issue. She’d nabbed things from Sammie’s place dozens of times. Navigating to her usual spots was second-nature by this point. In and out.

It was easy to remember Sammie for several reasons. One, it wasn’t typical for Veillies to work all night. Two, she kept the best snacks out of every other place Mel hit. And three, she owned the ugliest, loudest, yellow sofa in existence. Mel wrinkled her nose as she gazed across into the living room. It was a shame that Sammi’s beautiful guitars had to hang on a wall so close to that damn sofa.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” Mel always muttered from her concealed perches in the living room when she spotted Sammie playing her lovely music.

It hadn’t been part of Mel’s shift to observe Sammie today. This adventure was strictly off the books. 

She double-checked her work bag and strategized how best to fill it—which spots in the apartment would be worth visiting to collect from? 

As good as she was at being a Scout, she felt her true talent was collecting. Tragically, the funnest part of her miserable job was outlawed. She wasn’t supposed to have a Glyph Glove. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to take anything from the Veillies. But it didn’t matter. There was no one around to tattle on her, and she’d replace Glove before anyone noticed it was missing.

Even the victim of her theft, Sammie, was always unaware that anything was gone. She wasn’t a slob, but she wasn’t exactly the neatest or most organized human in the building. She didn’t seem to think twice about a stray earring vanishing, or one less screw sitting in the box under the sink.

Other Veillies were harder to steal from, meticulous about the placement of their belongings. They weren’t aware that Mel’s kind—Minuts—existed. Hell, they didn’t know anything about the Veil or what existed on the other side. That meant they naturally resorted to mouse traps and glue traps and poison if the tiniest object was out of place.

But not Sammie.

Hooking her rope on the top edge of the cabinet, Mel tested the durability of her harness straps. Once she felt secure, she tucked her mane of hair under her cowl to keep it out of her eyes. Then she leaped off the edge and nimbly caught herself on the rope. The counter waited below. She descended smoothly, wrapping her tail around her leg to maintain her balance.

“Okay, half the bag for screws, half for snacks,” she muttered. “Or… forty-sixty.” She reasoned that she’d sold plenty of supplies this week already. She deserved an extra treat for all the long, hard shifts this week. So it became a matter of deciding which snacks to take. There was an open bag of cookies on the table, so—

She paused.

Footsteps.

Mel took a deep breath and calmed herself. Nothing to get worked up about. The building was rickety and practically falling apart, getting worse by the day. There were plenty of Veillies in the neighboring apartments who walked heavily enough for her to hear the vibrations.

She began lowering herself again. She was sure she had seen a jar of peanuts in the pantry the last time she was here. Maybe this time she could—

The footsteps came right around the corner and entered the kitchen, then stopped just as suddenly.

Mel jerked her head to the side, and a human filled her vision. Sammie’s blond hair was tied up in a messy bun. She was eating a bag of Skittles and wearing gel under-eye masks. She froze with a Skittle halfway in her mouth, her wide-eyed gaze locked securely on Mel.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Mel screamed. She flinched and let go of her line. In the scramble to catch herself, she flipped upside down and was stopped by her harness. The problem was that her leg was tangled in the line.

She hung over the counter, writhing to orient herself, but unable to pull herself up with her leg caught. Vulnerable. Trapped. Humans on this side of the Veil were unpredictable in their reactions to the unknown. She was going to be tossed in a cage, or mistaken for vermin, or experimented on, or killed for being otherworldly, or—

Mel froze and held her breath when the human drew closer.

“Hang on, I’ve got you.” 

Sammie hurriedly tossed the bag of Skittles on the counter, making them scatter. She reached for Mel—well, not right for her. She cupped her hands underneath like a safety net, but the approach spurred Mel into reacting in the only logical way she could think of. She drew the knife from her belt and cut the line, desperate to escape her own binds.

But her reaction delivered her straight to the thing she wanted to avoid. The wind was knocked out of her as she fell onto her back on the human’s palms. But she didn’t lay there for long. She scrambled off and fell to the counter, surrounded by a minefield of Skittles. Once again, the air was forced from her lungs.

“Whoa, holy shit! Are you okay?” Sammie’s voice was frantic, but not deafening.

The fall didn’t hurt. Even if it did, the adrenaline wouldn’t allow Mel to feel it. She sprang to her feet and bolted, carefully not to slip on the stray pieces of candy. She managed to keep a grip on her knife.

“Wait!” Sammie reached out to block her path, and Mel vaulted right over her wrist. As she landed, she scooped up a Skittle and hurled it toward the human. She didn’t watch long enough to see where it hit, but judging by the resounding cry, she assumed it hit Sammie’s face.

But the accurate hit didn’t matter. There was nowhere to go. No openings on this patch of counter space. There was one next to the sink, but Sammie was hovering there. Mel had no line to climb. With each slow step Sammie took closer, Mel was hopelessly cornered. She thought about throwing the knife with the same fervor as the Skittle, but then she’d lose her only weapon.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Sammie said. She loomed even nearer, trying to get a better look as Mel backed herself up against the wall. “A-are you hurt?”

Breathing hard and shaking all over, Mel flickered her gaze away from Sammie’s daunting form and looked at the edge of the counter. She could take the fall to the floor if she jumped. Then she could get under the fridge and exit the apartment through there. And never-ever-ever come back.

Sammie cocked her head, following Mel’s gaze, then slowly shook her head. “Don’t even—”

“Fuck you, Blondie!” Mel spat. 

She bolted for the edge, and Sammie weirdly lunged for the sink instead of her. Drying dishes clattered as she grabbed something. Mel didn’t care what it was—not until that thing was slammed over her. She ran into a hard, plastic wall before she could stop herself.

Tupperware. She’d been trapped in a Tupperware bowl that still smelled of dish soap. Mel gave a war cry and threw herself into the wall. The entire thing jolted forward, which inspired her to take another running start, hoping to get it over the edge. But this time, a huge hand pressed down on the top of the bowl, and Mel’s tackle only sent her bouncing back to the center.

“Let me the fuck out!” Mel shrieked.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sammie said, her voice weird and echo-y through the plastic. “I panicked! I didn’t wanna grab you, but you were gonna—hey! You have to stop that—please!”

“Fuck you!” Mel snapped again. She took yet another running start and threw herself against the side of the Tupperware again. This time, she saw stars dance in her vision. That didn’t stop her from getting up. “Let me out! Let me out right now!” 

She hated the fearful tone in her voice, but she couldn’t help it.  She was never going to see her family again. How long would it take them to realize something was wrong? How long until they realized she was never coming home? She swiped at her frightened tears and saw Sammie’s face soften with sympathy through the curve of the plastic.

“Hey,” Sammie said in a soft, soothing voice. “It’s okay. Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“I’m not crying!” Mel said, hurriedly swiping again at her wet cheeks. 

Sammie’s eyebrows knit. “If you try to calm down, I’ll take the bowl off. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you’re full of shit. And I’m pretty fucking calm, if you ask me!” She gave the plastic wall one more pointed shove and slumped down against it. Glaring at her own faint reflection, she realized her hood had fallen. She dropped her forehead against the plastic, unable to believe she’d been caught in such a rookie way.

“I think you could use a couple more seconds to calm down,” Sammie said, not in a cruel or mocking way. In a weirdly kind way.

Mel didn’t buy it. “You weren’t even supposed to be here! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Um.” A small smile curled on the edge of Sammie’s lips. It would have been cute under any other circumstance. Even with those stupid eye mask things, she was pretty. “I live here?”

“But you’re supposed to be gone at this time! I heard the door!”

Sammie’s eyebrows shot up. “I came home from running errands. I took the night off.”

“Ugh! Of course.”

“Hey… How do you know about my schedule?”

Mel shut her mouth and wanted to punch herself in the face. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve got me anyway, so why should I talk?” She held her breath, wondering what sort of torture methods could be swirling behind those big, beautiful eyes?

But no threats came. Instead, Sammie seemed deep in thought for a few moments before leaning down near where Mel sat. She tried to catch Mel’s gaze through the plastic. “If you promise not to jump to your death… I’ll let you out. But we are gonna circle back to you spying on me. How’s that?”

Mel set her jaw and narrowed her eyes at the Veillie. “You’ll let me out,” she said skeptically. “And then what?”

“And then… I dunno. What exactly was on your agenda? What’re you doing here to begin with?”

“A cookie,” she said flatly. “Maybe a screw or two.” She pursed her lips and considered her options. “Okay, fine. I won’t jump. But I do have a knife, so you better keep your mitts to yourself.”

“I won’t lay a finger on you,” Sammie said, her tone lighter now with Mel’s cooperation.

That had to be an outright lie, but Mel didn’t see any other way the damn bowl was going to get gone.

As though she was dealing with a bomb, Sammie carefully lifted the Tupperware like she didn’t trust Mel either. Mel kept a tight grip on her knife, ready to stab at a moment’s notice. Her eyes strayed to the edge of the counter again, but the thought of the bowl slamming back down made her reconsider the urge to run again.

Shockingly, Sammie stayed true to her word about keeping her hands to herself. Her eyes were another matter. She openly stared at Mel, but she didn’t look as shocked as Mel would have expected a Veillie to be upon seeing a Minut for the first time.

Sammie tilted her head as if she was trying to see more of Mel, but her gear and clothing prevented it. “You’ve got great reflexes, cutting the rope like that,” Sammie said, like she was offering a compliment.

Not good enough reflexes to jump off the counter, apparently. Mel clenched her fists, too frustrated to talk. 

“Do you think you can get home on your own?” Sammie asked after a long pause. “You’re not hurt?”

Mel nearly dropped the knife. She’d already been plotting how to escape the cage she’d inevitably be shoved into. “You… You’re letting me leave?”

Sammie shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like you want to be anywhere near me right now. But… Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Why in the ever-living fuck would I do that?”

“I can fix you up some food to make up for scaring you. And we need to have a serious talk about the whole spying on me thing. I swear I won’t hurt you, but… You’re not exactly off the hook about that. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”

Mel gaped at her. Then she hardened and started backpedaling, unsure what Sammie was planning, but feeling cornered once again. “Fuck no, I’m not coming back,” she scoffed.

She expected Sammie to get angry. Maybe to grab the Tupperware again and trap her for good. But instead, the pretty Veillie just looked sad. That pout was enough to tug at Mel’s heartstrings, regardless of her size. And… so far, Sammie hadn’t done anything outright cruel or even halfway mean. She’d almost been just as panicked as Mel about the Tupperware prison. Her only real sin was breaking away from her usual schedule.

To top it all off, her reaction to Mel’s existence was… unusual, to say the least. And Mel found herself insatiably curious about it.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she caved faster than she cared to admit. “Fine! I guess I can come back.” She pointed the knife at Sammie. “Maybe! But it better be good food! Not that microwave meal crap.”

Sammie’s hand lifted suddenly. Mel lurched back and raised the blade higher, certain that the act was finally up and she was about to be grabbed. But no. Sammie only grabbed the Skittles bag and took one piece of candy from within. She held it out to Mel between a finger and thumb. It was a yellow one. The same stupid color as the sofa.

“How about this for now?” Sammie said. “To tide you over.”

Cautiously, Mel eased forward and snatched the candy. Then she strode for the sink purposefully, already able to feel the ache of the fall and her escape attempts. Apparently, Sammie could see her pain just as well.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t need any help?”

“I’m fine.”

A shadow darkened over her. A hand reached slowly. “You’re sure?”

“I said I’m fine!” Mel twisted around and threw the yellow Skittle, hitting Sammie in the face again. 

Sammie’s shadow pulled back. “Oh! Okay. My bad. So sorry,” she said meekly.

Feeling a strange tug of guilt, Mel got the hell out of there. She thought she would feel relieved when she finally was back in the safety of the walls. Instead, that stupid, stupid guilt stayed lodged firmly in her heart.

Maybe she would come back. Just so that her last glimpse of Sammie wouldn’t be that sorry pout.