M.Y.A, or Missing Yn Action.1

Fourteen-year-old Mya Lynn had a huge, overstuffed chair dragged over to the one window in her room. Though she wasn't supposed to—you might be seen!—her mother would screech, she had the lightweight curtains open so that she could watch the people go by.

She laid her arms down on the windowsill, and put her head on her hands. I wish I wasn't this way, she thought as she watched a mother and her children walk by her house, hand-in-hand, I wish mother didn't have to explain away my existence to everyone who sees me. But I can't sit here all day and do nothing.

She always made that excuse when she pulled the chair over, when she lifted it completely off the ground so it wouldn't make noise and alert the people on the lower floors of the house. That's what she told herself when she opened the curtains and sat still before the window, making up stories about each person as they walked by.

Like there: a blond girl with a blond boy—he has his hands on her face and he's pulling her close for a kiss, they have their eyes closed and everything, but he doesn't know who she really is. She's…got some horrible disease, that's it, something that's going to kill her soon, and she knows but he doesn't, because he'll leave her if he does. The girl doesn't know that though, she just doesn't know how to put her fear into words. But he's a jerk, Mya thought, he can't deal with that kind of trauma.

She sat up and tapped her fingers against the windowsill, "You're not in it for love," she muttered, her tone angry as she came to a realization, "You're in it for a woman who will do everything for you, and that can't happen if she dies."

This was part of her problem. She made up stories about people, then felt like they really happened, even if she logically knew that they didn't. And, sometimes, on the off-chance that she saw them later, she remembered her stories and judged the people accordingly. But then, that was why she was locked away from her family and society in the first place: she had problems separating reality and fictionality.

But besides that, look there: a girl with long, long, brown hair, a neutral expression on her face…it is neutral because… she's a master manipulator. She can make any face, any emotion, persuade anyone of anything to get her way. And she's going to the bank. She has no money in her account, but she's going to convince the banker that a man owes her, and that he gave the proper authorization to withdraw it from his account. There will be no faked papers, no verification from the man, but she'll be able to talk her way into it.

Mya shook her head, A bit dark today, aren't we? I wonder why... She scooted closer to the window, looking out further than she normally did, hoping to find someone who would inspire a happy story.

Then, with a loud "thunk!" a bug splattered against the outside of the window, just above her left eye. She jumped back as her mother opened her bedroom door, carefully balancing her daughter's tray of food, the teenager startling again from the woman's noise.

Mya swore under her breath immediately after her mother came in; I should have been listening better, she thought. Her gaze stayed on the splattered bug as her mother overreacted, throwing the meal onto the bed, knocking the glass of juice all over the sheets, food flying everywhere.

"What are you doing?" Her mother snarled, dragging her back from the window, her thin fingers curling into Mya's arm.

Mya squirmed away, "Watching the world go by," she mumbled submissively.

"Someone is going to see you," she said as she dragged the chair back to the other side of the room. She came back to close the translucent curtains, her anger evident, but Mya held up her hand to pause her mother, her gaze still locked on the window. In the time they'd been distracted, three more bugs had smashed themselves against the glass. This time, one of them was a butterfly, a big one.

Feeling like the child that she was, Mya looked up at her mother and pointed to the window, "Mom, do you see that?" She was making herself vulnerable. Mya knew as well as anyone that sometimes the things she saw weren't really there, and drawing attention to it made her mother mad.

Flippantly, her mother cast her gaze to the window, her hands on the curtains as she prepared to shut them. She paused for half a second, "Ugh, look at these disgusting bugs," she said as she threw the curtains closed, "See, this is your problem, child. This is why you aren't going to get married."

The wave of relief she felt knowing she wasn't the only one to see the bugs—maybe I'm getting better, she thought—was immediately swept away with her mother's words, "And why is that, mother?" Her tone was exasperated and sarcastic, but she had no hope that her mother would pick up on it.

"This," she said, pointing at the window, "looking at dead bugs. Proper ladies don't do that."

"Well maybe if you let me out of this room, I could find something better to do with my time," Mya snapped back.

"And that attitude doesn't help! You know that it's been almost a year since your menarche, don't you? And still, here you are, in my house."

I'd leave if I could, she thought.

"I just wish that you would behave yourself when I introduce you to men who might wed you. At this rate, you're not going to have anyone left who would marry someone like you."

Her mother had a point. It was true that Mya rarely acted properly when other people were around, but none of the people her mother ever had over liked her, and the feeling was mutual. So, she just said what was on her mind, and that wasn't well received very often.

"Yes mother," Mya said, complacently. Her natural disposition was not one of defiance, plus she knew that just agreeing with the woman would get her to leave sooner.

"You have to find someone to wed, child. You can't live here forever, and you can imagine how it would look if I cast you out!"

"Mother, not enough people even know I exist to judge you… my siblings barely know I'm alive."

"They're young," her mother said, "they'll figure it out sooner or later, especially if you keep making noise. You know your brother had a nightmare about an upstairs monster last night?"

"Sorry, I'll try to keep it down," she bowed her head.

"I know you try. You just have to try harder. I know it's hard for you, but I think that if you just…" She trailed off from the kindest thing she'd said all morning, "Do you hear that?" Mya listened, and she heard the sounds of a baby crying.

"Yeah, I—"

"Sounds like the baby's upset…alright, well, you just be quiet, Mya. I'll come back up with lunch."

"Sure, I…" But Mya had nothing more to say, especially since her mother was already out the door. She wanted to sit down for a minute, but with breakfast all over her bed, and the chair now moved and no longer convenient, she thought she might just fall to the floor in a dramatic faint. But who would that impress? No one would care, unless of course she made a bunch of noise. No matter: the cacophony of bugs splattering against the window redirected her attention.

She watched as they 'thwaped!' against the glass, and her confusion mounted as bug after bug aimed right for her face, and all different kinds too: flies, mosquitos, butterflies, even one ladybug smashed against the glass, its shell making a sickening crack as it broke. She couldn't imagine how they could move quickly enough to kill themselves, or why they were doing it, but it was creeping her out in the worst way. She backed away from the window a bit more each time the sound resonated—though she never broke her gaze—until she was pressed against her room's door.

She put her ear to it and listened; she could distinctly hear her mother cooing to the baby in his room. Those two wouldn't block an exit, should she try to leave. Her father normally spent the mornings in his office, doing whatever her father did, and if she was lucky, she could probably get out of the house without running into her other brother.

And she did want to leave, because she had the sinking feeling that the bugs were only acting weird by her window, not by any of the windows in any other room, and probably not even outside. She wondered for a moment if they might follow her, but she pushed that thought away.

Mya opened her door a tiny bit and peered down the stairs directly outside of her room. She didn't see or hear anyone walking in the hall, so she crept down a few stairs, then a few more, and then she was on the landing. She froze again, making sure she could race back up if necessary.

One more flight then out the door… she thought, holding her breath as she quietly walked past the room with the baby, and her brother's play room, then down the next flight of stairs. Her father, she heard, was wandering about, and she pressed herself against the wall as if that might protect her from being seen.

When it seemed like he wouldn't be coming out, she raced to the front door, remembering only at the last second that she would be going outside, and to do that she needed a male escort. This wasn't just a rule for people like her, but for all women as a safety precaution. She nearly screamed when Noah appeared next to her as she finished her thought; the only reason she didn't was she knew that she couldn't get caught, not then, not in such a precarious position.

She said nothing to the brown-haired boy, just slid out the door, closed it softly, and walked away from the house, leaving Noah inside. As she walked away, he was next to her again, walking in step, though this time Mya smiled at him. She made a series of turns onto streets and walked whichever way she could to make sure she was out of eyeshot of her house; it would be no good to have one of them see her now.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, when she felt it was safe to speak; she ignored the weird looks she was getting from everyone as she walked. She was used to them, especially if Noah was with her.

"You needed an escort. You know I always come if you need me," he said, smiling at her, his voice soft and comforting. He wore a green hat and a tan shirt, neither of which really went with his grey eyes, though Mya was never one to care about fashion. His pants were rolled up, as if he expected them to go play in the water and he wanted to be ready in advance.

"You just…you gotta stop sneaking up on me, you know? I nearly screamed in the house and you know what happens if I get caught out of my room…" She said, looking down at the ground.

"Oh, come on, cheer up. It's your birthday, you know," he said, smiling, gazing at her hopefully.

"Is it really?" She shook her head, "I always lose track of time. Ever since what happened at the school…"

"Come on Mya, stop thinking about that. It's a happy day! Tell you what: why don't we go to the woods and play hide-and-seek?" The corner of Mya's mouth curled into a smile, "Thata girl," he said, grinning as well. He paused, then pushed her shoulder and took off running, saying, "Beat you there!" then laughing.

Mya sighed and went after him, her lightweight blue dress hiked up to her knees so she could run without tripping over it. Before she knew it though, she was laughing too, completely forgetting all sense of propriety and enjoying her youth for one fleeting moment.

By the time they reached the safety of the forest—for no one would bother them there—Mya was exhausted and the two of them lay in the dirt and grass, Noah giving her the credit of a win though she'd given up long before she caught him, like always. For some reason, when he left her sight, it was like he disappeared from the earth entirely and she had to wait for him to come back to her. It made hide-and-seek hard, but they played all the time any ways.

"Do you want to be 'It' first, Mya?" Noah asked.

"Sure, of course I do." She always wanted to be the seeker, despite how she never found him. Over time it had become a kind of mission for her, as if one day she would be good enough to find him and become the ultimate winner.

She counted to a hundred against a tree, abiding by all the rules of no peaking, then seeked. Normally, their games took all day; there were thousands of places to hide, and with Noah being so dang good at disappearing, one round could easily take an hour. Then, after playing, they would watch the sunset together, always on the same grassy hill where Mya could best feel the air blowing through her hair.

They headed up early after a romp through the river, partially so that the soaked bottoms of Noah's pants could dry. The two sat there, Mya's handmade dress slipping over her legs every time she moved. The layered blue and white dress otherwise hugged her curvy body, as her mother insisted that she showed off her beauty as much as possible while still being modest.

"You know, Mya, I wanted to get you a cake for your birthday; I thought we could eat it up here and enjoy the sunset together… but the bakery was closed today. Any idea why?"

Mya shrugged, "Who knows. Maybe they were sick."

"Maybe," he nodded, "I just… I noticed all these bugs on the windows there, like the ones at your place…"

Mya's face paled, her skin contrasting with her dark hair and eyes. Don't think about it, she thought.

Noah quickly covered up his error, "Oh, never mind, forget I said anything. Anyways, I didn't get you a cake but I got you something different, but I need to go get it because I wasn't expecting to see you so early so I didn't bring it… but I'll be right back. You just stay here, don't go anywhere, alright?"

"Um, okay," she said, laying back in the grass, delighting in the feeling of it brushing against her face and the exposed skin on her arms. She heard Noah trample off, but didn't bother to watch him leave. Instead, she just thought about how the clouds looked like different animals and things, and then she made up stories about them, just like when she saw people.

There was a wild horse tamed by a brutal master, a bunny running from a wolf, a flower losing its petals to the winds. She thought of her family, and how it'd be best if she just left, if she didn't burden them anymore with her crazy. Mya was so tired of seeing things that weren't there, tired of being judged for not knowing what was real and what wasn't…

She closed her eyes and relaxed like she were taking a warm bath, thinking, I'm sorry family. I'd change myself if I could, just as the wind picked up and blew a clump of hair into her mouth. A few strands went down her throat, and she immediately sat up to pull them out. Through watery eyes, she saw something run past her, something large, like a person.

It wasn't Noah, though, no… it had white hair, and…ears? like a rabbit. But that couldn't be right. She calmed her coughs, got to her feet, and went to where she thought it had gone. It must have just been a rabbit, she thought, but no…it couldn't be. It was definitely human sized. She searched, becoming determined to learn for sure what it was that she saw.

I must have just not seen it correctly, there couldn't have been ears I guess…or perhaps I imagined the whole thing entirely, she thought, her mood growing darker as she found nothing.

But then, there he was again, at least she thought it was a he, because he was wearing a rather nice suit, if it was a bit on the ruffly side. He was moving quite quickly, running as it were, and it seemed he was moving as fast as his long legs could take him. She meant to call out to him, to ask him to turn around and tell her what was going on. But she had the sinking suspicion that if he obliged her, it might be something that she didn't want to see.

It might, perhaps, be faceless, or something else that would prove that he wasn't real, that it was all in her mind again.

Still, she followed him, holding onto a desperate, childlike hope for reality as he raced off even faster, heading deep into the forest, back to where Mya and Noah had been playing in the river just an hour before.

But it most definitely had tall rabbit ears.