Maisie laid down on the sofa as Ben sat in the chair opposite. She wasn't too interested in the sessions he had to come too, but did so nonetheless.

"Whats your biggest fear?" Ben asked the girl, he watched her fidget and try — and struggle — to find comfort.

"I have a lot of fears, not necessarily a biggest fear." Maisie tried to reason. "I suppose being killed by my best friend is a pretty big fear." She told him, playing with the flowery skirt of her off-white spaghetti strap dress — one she had paired with tights and Mary Janes.

Ben couldn't help but notice how specific her fear was. "And has anything like this happened to you?"

Maisie didn't say anything, falling silent as she stared up at the ceiling.

Ben noticed her silence, jotting down that she may have more trauma then he expected. Originally he believed she just had childhood trauma that many of his patients had experience, but now he was starting to believe there was much more then what she showed.

The session had been dragging on longer then Maisie would of liked. She stared at Ben, waiting for him to decide that their time can be over or that she could go home early.

Ben seemed to get the hint as her eyes seemed to show she was zoned out, trying to seem interested. "How about we wrap this up on Friday, instead, you seem to be tired, so catch up on sleep."

"Ok." She said automatically, pushing herself up and needing no further words to tell her to leave. Maisie walked straight out of the room.

Upon walking out she bumped into someone, leading to the sound of something clattering to the ground.

"Fuck." The boy let out, running his hand down his face.

"I'm so sorry." Maisie said, crouching down to help him pick up what she assumed were school books — the same books (not the exact copy but still) she had used when she was living.

"No, it's fine." He told her, carefully taking the books out of her hands when they stood up.

Victor and Maisie met eyes, smiling at each other.

"You have nice eyes." She said with out thinking, her eyes widened at her words.

Heat flooded Victors face, causing a small giggle leave Maisie's lips. "Uh, you're pretty." He complimented back.

Maisie tucked some hair behind her ear, unable to contain her smile as she wrapped one arm around herself.

"Victor Harmon." The boy said, balancing the books on one of his arms and holding his other hand out to shake.

"Maisie Warwick." She said, shaking his hand. "I'm one of your dads clients." Maisie said, pointing over in the office's direction.

Victor leaned his arm against the wall. "I gathered. You seem cool, so do you wanna hang?" He asked.

Maisie nodded. "I'd love to."

Victor grinned, telling her to wait a second whilst he went and asked his dad something.

On the way to Victors room the duo had ran into Violet Harmon and her bruised face. The boy stopped his sister grabbing her face in his hands and angling it to get a better look from the lights.

A scowl plastered his face. "It's on sight next time I see her." He told Violet, his voice cold, emulating fear to most.

Violet went to protest but merely was ignored as her brother continued down the hallway.

"Hi, I'm Maisie."

"His new girlfriend? He doesn't do proper relationships so don't get too attached." Violet warned, holding her hand. "Violet."

Maisie nodded, giving her a polite smile.

"Maisie!" The boy called, causing for her to give Violet a quick bye and go and join Victor Harmon in his room.

Maisie took in her old bedroom, the walls were still the same, but instead of her dainty gold and white decorations they had been replaced with clutter.

"You know you can sit down." He told her, placing the books on the distressed white desk — pain had chipped away in multiple places, and in all honesty it looked as though he had had it most of his life.

Maisie sat down on his bed, crossing her ankles as she watched him.

Victor opened his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of distressed black jeans before hanging up his leather jacket. "I'm going to go change into these, I hate blue jeans." He commented, leaving the girl in her old room alone.

She didn't like the clutter, Maisie had always had her bedroom organised and in order — however this was not her room so she had to sit still and suck it up.

Looking past the clutter, she could still tell the room was hers — before she died last year. The white and green walls were still the same, as was the golden (small) chandelier and the wooden floor. She noticed he had his bed, wardrobe, desk and drawers in the same place she use to.

A light smile decorated her lips as she pushed herself of the black bedding — a risky colour, if you asked her — and made her way over to the stack of posters.

There were definitely a range, from 'underground' grunge and indie bands, to classic films, to ones people cut out of magazines.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made her turn around. Maisie met Victor's stare, posters in hand.

"Nice posters." She let out, dropping them down onto his desk and neatening the pile.

Once again she turned to face him, her eyes scanned over him — she had to admit that he looked ten times hotter, his black distressed jeans were decorated with a silver chain and despite him looking good in blue jeans, he looked even better now.

"You're staring." Victor said, a smug smile on his lips.

Maisie hummed, stepping over to take a seat on his bed. "What are you gonna paint the room, the sage and white don't exactly match your grunge aesthetics."

Victor shrugged, opening the drawer in his desk, pulling out a plastic box. He opened it, pulling out some rings and sliding them on his fingers. "Black and grey, with red undertones probably."

"Assumed as much." She said as he took a seat next to her.

Victor flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You from around here?" He questioned, his fingers lightly brushing her cold wrist.

Maisie was staring down at where his hand met her wrist — strangely her breath was head. She let out a soft breath, blinking away her thoughts as a blush covered her cheeks.

She looked away, facing the white wall opposite them. "Yeah, my uncles and I moved here not last year but the year before, quiet late into the year."

"Uncles, huh? That's cool."

Maisie turned to him, her cheeks cooling down as she stared at his face. She looked irritated, ready to punch the boy.

"I'm not mocking, that's generally great, I'm more confused why you don't live with your parents." Victor promised, sitting up and meeting her eye. The two stared at one another, Victor placed his hand on top of Maisie's. "But I'm not going to press, I assume it's a touchy subject."

Maisie nodded — she may have not had a relationship with them, but sometimes it hurt, especially knowing she never got the option to even become their little girl.

"I'm sorry." He let out.

Again, the girl was only able to nod. "Sorry, I don't mean to be such a downer." Maisie whispered, staring down at their hands.

Victor smiled at her. "Ain't your fault, life's shit." He said, flopping back in the sofa, he wrapped his hand around her upper hand and pulled her back, causing her her to lie down next to him.

She let out a small laugh and smiled at him.

Victor moved his hand, pushing some of her blonde hair out of her face.

Maisie wasn't to sure what to say, in less then two hours she had been to therapy, met a boy and was now left knowing that she's never going to be able to have a relationship with her parents — maybe they were good for nothing, but there wasn't a child who wouldn't move heaven and hell to find a person who should care for them.

Victor simply watched her as she lay in thought. Normally when he brought a girl back she wasn't exactly there for conversation — one night stands were great, except the part where the girl never got to stay cause he'd kick her out minutes after, yet people still came back for more, so maybe they weren't one night, they were sex-to-go.

Maisie seemed very different to the many girls he had spent his free time fucking — then again, maybe she wasn't all that different, he barely had a conversation with the other girls so there was no way to know. She dressed differently to them, and in all honesty that was the only real difference.

Now, that isn't to say he wouldn't sleep with Maisie — but he thought his father would go ballistic if he fucked one of his clients.

Maisie turned her head, meeting his stare with a gentle smile. "You stare a lot."

"It's easy to get lost in the sight of beauty."

And once again, her face heated up and a smirk lay upon his lips.

Maisie turned her head, trying to hide her flustered face. She wasn't the girl to get the attention — except when she did get the attention as a prank or as a bet to see who on the football team could fuck her first, so she slept with the geek.