There were a lot of things that Finney Blake hated. Like, for example, the dark, magicians, and loneliness. The list went on beyond that, of course. Though, most of it could be soothed by Marie.

She found him sometime after his escape. Fresh after, might I add. The events of the Grabber remained intense in his mind.

The only time Finney didn’t see him was when he was with her.

He fell for her, quickly. Whether it was love or attachment at first, he didn’t know, and he also happened to not care — she was a warm body. Something to hold, someone to latch onto. And that was enough for him.

He couldn’t sleep when she wasn’t with him. Finney’s father, stumped by rationality and fueled by guilt for his past alcoholism, allowed her to move in. Her parents weren’t ever sober enough to care.

Five years later, Finney anxiously bounces his leg. He narrows his eyes at his closed door, the empty spot in bed next to him sending signals of uncertainty flying throughout his body.

As it creaked open, he swallowed, hard. Tension left his body as soon as he saw her familiar figure.

“Where were you?” Finney asked quietly, emotionless. He didn’t have to speak with fear or anger or mistrust. His eyes said it all.