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longed to go to the town fair.

It was an annual thing.

How Aralyn described the fair to be such a joyous occasion.

Evelyn longed to go each year, but each year her parents declined her attendance. No one needn't see Evelyn outside of school. She picked up her bag before making her way out of the house.

Work called.

But only at nights.

The diner was never the most popular place for the people of the town. It was only that the diner had been around for so long that people would come in to reminisce over old times.

It was a blurry memory.

She worked hard to keep the diner alive though. Convincing the owner to continue running the place despite the owner's words to 'close the damn place now'.

She sighed as she wiped down a table. Looking up, she yawned upon noticing the time on the clock.

11:16 p.m.

Sleep was surely her enemy, even though she longed for it. When she slept, she cried and quivered and screamed. Terrors in her mind ruined her peace each night.

She was afraid to sleep.

But it didn't matter anymore. It still managed to overtake her and she drifted off into a chaotic slumber, sleeping for an hour or two before waking up in a sweat and forcing herself to stay awake.

Coming back from her thoughts, she jumped as she heard the bell chime, indicating another customer.

But the chatter that entered suggested that it was a group of people rather than a single person.

She lifted her head and froze as she took in the scene before her.

School mates.

Why would they be here at 11:30 p.m?

A sharp inhale of breath displayed the fear that overtook her.

These kids weren't the ones who ignored her existence.

No.

They were the kids who made her regret her existence. Just like her family.

Shielding her face with her hair, she walked around the counter realizing she'd have to serve them.

It was closing time soon and she was the only server left.

Walking up to them, she felt scared as her legs weakly moved.

"Hi. Welcome to Dolores' Diner, what can I get you?"

Without a glance in her direction, Brent Calibri listed off what they'd have.

"A toothpick and a flip flop. Bryce over here would like a big wa—watermelon. A whole watermelon. Oh a—an—-and how about a rub—b——-rubber band? Like a hair tie? He plans on exp—-pl—plaining how giving birth can hurt a woman's sacred hole," he said stumbling over his words.

Her face scrunched up as she took a big whiff of the pungent odor that followed them in.

They reeked of alcohol.

She took a step back, letting a disapproving sound leave her mouth without consent.

Upon this movement, Brent lifted his head as he noticed exactly who was serving them.

"Evelyn Moreau," he snarled.

Immediately the four guys seated with him looked up to take in her tiny form before smirks adorned their faces.

Being the one closest to her, Brent darted his hand out to grab her arm. She whimpered at the pain he was causing and was positive his tight grip would leave a bruise on his delicate skin.

"Please let go," she quietly pleaded with them praying they would get up and just leave.

"But we just got started?" Brett questioned feigning innocence.

She felt his stare weigh her down and her arm went limp instead of pulling away from him. She was exhausted.

Smiling at her lack of fight, Brett pulled her into his lap. She tensed at the feeling of him underneath her and wished that she was anywhere else. She tried to get the words out to beg him to leave her alone, but the only noise that left her throat was a scratchy whimper.

Luckily, she was immediately pushed off him as the sound of a bell interrupted their predicament.

Someone had entered.

Falling to the floor, she rushed to get up and smooth her outfit, trying to look presentable.

But how presentable could one get in the late hours of the night?

The guys shuffled out of the booth, getting ready to leave.

Brent stopped beside her before walking past. "It's always fun with you,"he whispered, his lips grazing her ear.

Evelyn let out a shaky breath as a shiver ran down her spine before turning to approach the person shuffling into a booth on the other side of the diner.

She paused in her step upon seeing Maddox's eyes on her already. His expression was one of annoyance and concern.

Concern?

She internally scoffed before walking over.

"Can I get you anything?"

Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, he fumbled with his hands.

"Were they harassing you?" he questioned.

Ignoring his question, she pressed on. "Would you like coffee? Water? Tea? Lemonade? A cinnamon bun?"

"A cinnamon bun will do just fine," he huffed realizing she wouldn't be answering his question.

Nodding her head, she grabbed a cinnamon bun from the raised platter beside them before placing it on a napkin in front of him.

"How much?"

"No need," she said shaking her head, "It's late and no one will know."'

Shrugging, he ate the sweet dish.

She worked on wiping the tables around them before walking into the employee's room and shutting off the electricity.

Only one light remained on and it was the one at the entrance of the diner.

Placing herself next to Maddox, she rested her head on her arms before looking at him.

"Why do you work so late?"

"Working at night is the only time my parents would approve of," she gently said.

He looked over at her with some faint surprise on his face.

"Why?" he pressed further.

"I'm not a face people want to see during the day," she mumbled softly.

"They really are embarrassed of you, aren't they?"

She shrugged. "My parents? Yeah. I'm not exactly the kind of daughter a family wants to keep around."

He leaned in, obviously curious. "And what kind of daughter are you?"

Her eyes flitted to the floor before steadily coming back to his face. "A useless one."

Silence followed her shameful statement.

"And how are you useless?"

"I'm a living, breathing reminder of a dark time in my parents relationship. I am their mistake. The people of this town aren't the most accepting of mistakes."

"Some are," he mused.

"No." Her tone was firm. "No one wants mistakes. No one appreciates mistakes," she choked out.

She shut her eyes tightly, letting the few stray tears fall. Sniffing, she wiped them as they came.

"Evelyn."

"Hmm?"

He analyzed her slouched form and red-rimmed eyes, noticing her quivering lip which suggested another round of tears.

Without a thought, he reached out to place a stray hair behind her ear. Then, he brought his hand to her chin before lifting it so their gazes met.

He searched her eyes. Most would think his actions were mindless, but they were far from it.

He noticed the fragility to her. How worn out she was. Emotionally. Mentally. But she had a strong front. She was a wave that came harsh, but fell softly. She was the breeze that blew leaves off trees, but not enough to be a hurricane.

No. Maddox was the hurricane. He was the breeze that blew everything and everyone away. Leaving only him. He was the trembles of the ground that rocked peoples lives.

He was a true storm whilst she was the mild warning.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. What prompted the action? He wasn't too sure of the reason himself.

"Personally," he started, looking into her eyes with a gentle kind of concern, "I never regret my mistakes. Mistakes are made to show what is wrong. You may be a mistake, but you should be an appreciated mistake. Mistakes may not be the best thing for people to make, but nonetheless, they are loved for letting us experience the feeling of wrongness. If one is right all the time, if one always does everything perfectly, the feeling accompanied with it would soon fade. You cannot experience happiness without sadness first. People who go a life without mistakes are missing out. They may be happy for always being successful, but the feeling of being successful after a mistake is a thousand times more enjoyable."

He wiped the tear that fell down her cheek.

"You, Evelyn Moreau, are a mistake not loved. But eventually, someone will love you," he softly spoke.

"Who?" she whispered as her voice cracked.

Maddox shrugged. "Someone."

She bit her lip before looking away and sighing.

"Can I drop you home?" he questioned.

"No," she mumbled before scooting closer to him. She was hesitant with her movements, but overcame her self conflict before laying her head on his shoulder. He was a comfort she needed.

"Not right now," she voiced.

He nodded before letting his hands play with her hair that had fallen from her bun.

Surrounded in each other's presence was all she needed to feel better. He was someone worth getting out of her shell for.

"Maddox?" she quietly whispered.

He squeezed her arm in response.

"Would you like to be friends?" she quickly rushed out feeling the heat rush to her cheeks.

She felt him stiffen.

Realizing that she must've read his signals wrong, she tried to speak to take back her words.

"It's okay. You don—"

"I think we already are," he faintly mumbled.

She visibly relaxed before letting her head fall back once again.

Maddox took a deep breath. Might as well take advantage of this 'friend' situation.

"As a friend, I'm asking you once again, were they harassing you?"

Not a tone she wanted to go against, she simply nodded her head.

He touched her forearm, tracing over the bruising Brent's tight grip caused her.

"He did this?" he questioned but it was an obvious statement.

Nodding once again, she felt her breathing become shallow. Panic started to settle into her.

Noticing the sudden change in her body language, he ran his hands through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "He's not here right now," he said. "Don't panic. Just focus on breathing."

Closing her eyes, she let herself drown out the lack of noise, focusing on her breaths, focusing on the beating of his heart. It was calm and in no rush to beat.

She took a deep breath, relaxing against him. She felt safe. She was safe.

Feeling herself drift off, she tried to keep her eyes open.

But she couldn't help, but let them droop as she fell into a sleep that she would wake from in a sweat.

"How are you not bitter towards the world?" she heard Maddox question. His voice was distant.

As she fell asleep, one last thought crossed her mind in response to his statement.

What's the point of adding gasoline to a fire that is already burning brighter than it could ever be?

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