As she padded out into the bedroom, she realized she hadn't just been humming, she’d been smiling as well.
Was still smiling.
Because when she thought of Thunder, she wanted to smile. She liked him. Bit by bit, he was proving to her that not all men were monsters. He was so patient with her. He’d walked for hours with her in the grounds yesterday afternoon, and when it was still sunny this morning, he’d offered to go back out with her even though it couldn’t be all that much fun for him.
What was she going to do without him when she eventually left there?
The thought had the smile sliding right off her face. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay, it was safe, and she thought that, given enough time, she could even be happy there. Maybe even learn how to live again.
But she couldn’t stay forever.
Could she?
“Knock, knock,” Thunder called out from the door to her room, and she looked over to see that he was carefully avoiding looking directly at her, even though he’d seen her naked body before.
Part of learning to live again was definitely remembering that most people didn't spend their days naked. It had just been so many years without clothes, being treated like her body wasn't her own, that she really didn't care about anyone seeing her naked. Even if she did, that wouldn't include Thunder.
He was a safe place.
Still, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so Maya quickly snatched up the clothes that she’d left on the bed and pulled them on. Whether or not she’d gotten used to being naked didn't mean that she didn't enjoy having an entire wardrobe of beautiful, soft clothes to slip on. Sometimes she even changed a couple of times a day just because she had the choice and she could.
Once she was dressed, she drifted over to where Thunder was standing, realizing that she enjoyed being in close proximity to him. He oozed strength and safety, and she gravitated toward that now that she was trying her best to believe in him and the others. It was definitely a million times easier with Thunder, although the other guys all seemed nice enough.
“I have a surprise for you,” he told her, and there was excitement dancing in his dark eyes. It was clear he was excitedabout this surprise, although she had no idea why. He’d already gone above and beyond for her, he didn't have to do more.
When he reached for her hand, giving her ample time to pull away if she didn't want the contact, she made herself remain still.
Thunder is safe.
Thunder won't hurt you.
She repeated that mantra in her head a few times, and as his fingers curled around her own, Maya found that she wasn't filled with any need to pull back. It was nice having him hold her hand, and she followed willingly as he led her through the maze of corridors she had memorized just in case of an emergency.
At the stairs, they didn't go down, instead, they turned and went up. She hadn't been up here before. Her room was on the second floor, and most of the other rooms they used were on the first floor. Up here, there were lots of closed doors, and she wondered briefly what was behind each one, but Thunder didn't stop walking until he got to one in particular.
“This room is yours now,” he told her as his free hand reached for the doorknob.
He was moving her bedroom up there?
Why would he do that?
She liked her room. It was the first space in so long that was pretty and comfortable. She didn't need another room, but she wasn't so emotionally attached to the room that she wouldn't move if it was what he wanted.
Drilled into her for thirteen years was the need to please others, especially men. If changing rooms pleased Thunder, she’d do it without complaint, even if she didn't see the point.
“Maybe I'm wrong, but when we were out in the garden yesterday, you kept moving your hands about. It was like you were drawing what you were seeing. I thought maybe you liked to draw, so I did this …”
With that, he pushed the door open to reveal an artist’s studio. Several easels were set up, with paints, pencils, and oil pastels set up along a long counter. There were brushes in every shape and size sitting beside the paint pots, and a stack of canvases in the corner.
“If I'm wrong and you don’t actually like drawing or painting, you can tell me, I promise I won't be offended. I just wanted you to have something that you enjoy.”
Something she enjoyed?
This was something sheloved.
From the time she’d first been able to hold a crayon, she’d been obsessed with art. She loved every aspect of it. Some days she’d draw with just a black pencil, other days she’d paint with vivid colors, she’d do mosaics with tiles, and make things with clay. She didn't care what she was doing as long as she was creating.
Other than her family, art had been the thing she’d missed the most over the last thirteen years. Creating was as natural to her as breathing, it was how she’d always expressed herself, and without it she’d felt like a piece of herself was missing.
