Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  Nathan, get here now. Bring Scott.

  “I loved Scott,” Glen says with an edge of remorse in her voice. The rejection for her feelings is sewn deep in her beautiful hazel eyes.

  I reach for her, wanting to pull her away from the edge. Her head whips around, and she shoots me a look, warning not to touch her. “Glen, you still love Scott. You’re just confused right now. Let’s go in and talk to him.” The rain picks up around us and lightning strikes too close to where we stand, cracking the far side of the mountain. Booming thunder isn’t far behind it, vibrating the large rock. We’re pummeled with water and leaves blowing in the twisting wind. “Glen, please? Let’s go inside. It’s getting bad out here.”

  “It’s getting bad in here,” she mumbles low, to herself, gaze cast on her feet or the ground. She lifts her head, and woeful eyes meet mine. “You know, Tracey. If Scott and I were like you and Nathan, we would probably be better off. Happy like you two are.” She sounds like herself now. Stuck up Glen, with jazz to her voice. Her words, however, are soft and meaningful; spoken too calmly.

  “You and Scott are happy.”

  “No, we aren’t,” she denies. “There’s always death. In his mind lies hate and wants I can’t provide. I can’t accept that. I liked him better before, when I didn’t know. He may have pushed me off and lied to me, but fear didn’t consume me from the possibilities of what he may be capable of doing to me.” With her saying that, I consider if it may have been better for Glen to remain in the dark. “I thought I wanted to know. Wanted to know who he truly was.” She faces me, full-bodied. “But I don’t.”

  “Glen. Please?” Scott shouts over the wind from behind me.

  Glen flicks her gaze to him and steps off the ledge.

  “No!” I yell, watching her body fall backward.

  Scott screams her name and jumps after her. I spring forward, trying to grab him. With nothing to hold me back, panicking, I flail. An arm wraps around me, ripping me out of the air. I turn into his chest, crying. It’s dry now and smells of the house we were in, instead of rain. We drop to the floor.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sparks. He’ll catch her. They’ll be okay. I promise.” His words mean nothing. Nathan lays his head against mine resting on his chest. His breaths are heavy and hopeful like mine, and that makes it easier not to take his word for this one.

  Now, not once, but twice I’ve wept over the potential loss of Glen. I hope he’ll catch her, but I’ve lived in the real world for all my life, and that shit doesn’t really happen. I pull away from Nathan, saying, “She just walked off the edge. No thoughts, no words. She just threw it all away.”

  “I know, Sparks.” He takes my face in his hands. “But everything will be okay. They are going to be fine.”

  I shove his hands from my face. “Nathan, everything is not always going to be fine!” I shout. “My friend is dead! She was so freaking confused and lost in her own life, in her own mind that the only out she thought she had was to kill herself. And I just let her, just stood by and watched her. There are a million things I could’ve done to help her, Nate! I should’ve been paying more attention to her than you! I should’ve done something!”

  Olar and another’s disturbingly confident presence enters the room in which we sit. I turn around to them; Olar and Monahan. Enraged, looking at Monahan, I stand too quickly. He smiles at me, and I set him on fire.

  “O-kay. . .” Olar says, observing Monahan’s burning body. He tips his chin and walks out the room.

  Monahan hits the floor.

  I’m flooded with anger as I stare at Monahan’s burning body tainting the once wood smelling home with his roasting flesh. I fan away the fire with a whip of my hand, and he’s, unfortunately, alive. He quivers until passing out.

  Olar returns to take him into another room. He grabs at Monahan’s body and yanks his hands back. “Ouch,” he yelps, shaking out his hands. “He’s still hot. I’ll just let him cool off for a second.”

  “Bro, just get him out of here. He stinks,” Nathan orders.

  “Okay. Okay.” Olar nods and waits before grabbing him again and quickly pulling him out.

  Nathan pulls me to him. “Sparks, look at me.” I stare into his brown eyes. “Scott caught Glen. They’ll be okay. Just give it some time. She’s not dead.”

  “Can we leave?” I want to cry again and would prefer not to do it here.

  He nods with sorry eyes. “Olar, wait here for Scott and Glen’s return. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Cool,” Olar calls from another room.

  Nathan picks me up and rushes out the opening that leads to the mountain. He races around it and through a path. Twenty minutes later, we make it to his house, drenched by the pouring rain, freezing from the icy air.

  “Did you find Glen?” Mrs. Waturstrom asks from the living room the second the front door closes.

  We sit on the couch opposite of her. “Yes,” Nathan answers grimly.

  “What happened?”

  “I’d prefer not to say right now.”

  Taylor, Justin, Little Nathan, and Natalia walk in and take seats.

  “I have some things I would like to address now,” Mrs. Waturstrom says, relaxed, with her hands clasped together in front of her as she surveys her niece. “Taylor, your actions may be forgivable because you are a part of this family, but your actions against our family cannot be ignored.” She jumps right in. “What is your response to these accusations?” Mrs. Waturstrom’s tone is odd, both demanding and mesmerizing.

  Taylor looks to Nathan and then me. Clearing her throat, she states, “I have risked others for my well-being. I’m ashamed of it.”

  “And what are your true feelings, Taylor?” Mrs. Waturstrom demands.

  “I am sorry things happened the way they did.” She pauses and looks directly at her mother. “But, I do not regret them.”

  Oh. My. Gosh!

  Nathan’s hand hardens in mine. I move closer to him.

  “Taylor,” Natalia starts quietly. “What are you saying?”

  Mrs. Waturstrom turns back to Taylor. “What are your intentions, Taylor?” Her voice remains commanding. I don’t understand where it’s coming from; this sounds nothing like the kind Mrs. Waturstrom I know.

  “I will not go to Roehl. Not willingly.” Taylor’s answer is resolute. Nathan wraps his arm around me. I wrap my arms around his. “He will get Tracey before he gets me.”

  “Keep me down, Sparks,” Nathan whispers in a venomous voice.

  How in the hell can I keep him down when I am turning up? Did she just say what I think she did?

  “Everyone needs to stay calm,” the school nurse instructs. The disbelief in Natalia’s eyes burn. Mrs. Waturstrom continues, “Taylor, what happened when you saw Roehl?”

  “I asked for his assistance in killing father. He immediately declined.” Justin turns to her with shock stealing his face. “I asked what I could offer to get his help. He responded that there was nothing. After asking again and being declined again, I informed Nathan had a mate.” Nathan freezes hard as a glacier. “We made a deal that if he’d help, I would help him get Nathan and Tracey. He took my deal,” she informs with her head held high, no shame in her tone and no regret for her actions. “But the time to deliver Nathan and Tracey had passed after father died. And when he came to take them, Nathan killed his entourage and tried to kill him. So, he started to come for me, for repayment.”

  “Did you let Glen get taken?” Mrs. Waturstrom asks.

  “I did,” Taylor answers honestly.

  “So, you never offered yourself to Roehl?” Nathan asks after an exaggerated and uncomfortable silence.

  “I did, Nathan. You and me.”

  My mind is a whirl of questions from her changed confession.

  Mrs. Waturstrom glares at her. “That is not the truth, Taylor.”

  “That is the truth,” Taylor defends.

  “What is my ability, Taylor?”

  “To force the truth willi
ngly,” she answers as realization flashes over her face.

  Now the ugly truth is out.

  “NATHAN, NO!” NATALIA YELLS.

  A loud slam shakes the floor. Natalia’s frozen in mid-step, tears rolling from her face. Nathan’s had it and is overwhelmed with anger. Justin’s face planted to the floor, unconscious, in his attempt to protect Taylor. Nathan takes two steps back after he approaches his sister—a mere inch from his attack, he restrains. “Come on, Taylor,” he growls, taking on his demon. The back of his hair spikes out, his complexion tints red, and his skin looks impenetrable.

  “Nathan, please don’t do this,” Natalia pleads, able to speak but unable to move.

  “You will allow this to happen,” Mrs. Waturstrom commands. “Taylor will fight for her right to remain in this family. She has done too much to be forgiven without proving herself.” She looks at Nathan. “Don’t kill her,” she tells him with a single nod.

  Nathan matches her nod, acknowledging her without looking away from Taylor.

  “This isn’t a fair fight, Nathan!” Taylor yells, stepping away from him.

  Taylor needs her ass whooped. She not only lied to us, but she offered us to the slime of the Earth. Glen was right. This entire situation is her fault. “I’ll go against you, Taylor.” I step to Nathan’s side. “That way you’ll have the upper hand.”

  Nathan shifts back to his human form. “You sure you want to do that?”

  Eyeing Taylor, I say, “Yes.”

  She furrows her brows, turning up her nose at me, daring my challenge.

  Nathan looks between Taylor and me before nodding and stepping back. “You better not hurt her,” Nathan warns.

  Taylor glares as I move to stand in front of her. I let my rage consume me. I am so angry at her, Roehl, and this situation I’m in with him. I’m mad about Glen and her Monahan and Scott situation. I’m angry about my dad. I’m angry these ugly vines cover my arms. They cross my ear, and it warms. Through my rage, I can even feel the feather appear on my cheek. I’m infuriated about that. I hate that ugly burning feather.

  Taylor’s expression is scandalized. No one says anything against my decision to fight her. From my peripherals, I see Natalia’s mouth moving, but there is no sound. Nathan may have taken away her speech.

  “Tracey, I—”

  I send a heated blast to her face, cutting off her meaningless words. She flies across the room and hits the floor on her back. “Don’t talk to me, Taylor. Sorry is only a word, and your words are null and void.”

  She gathers her footing, rubbing her hands together.

  I’m not sure of what Taylor can do besides what Nathan’s told me about her being able to tell if someone is possessed and release them. But at this point, if she has some super awesome ability to rip my skin off, I don’t care. I just want to set her hair on fire and walk away.

  Once on her feet, she claps once. Something rough smacks against my neck and chest, sending me flying into the wall behind me. Before the pain can set in, Nathan’s at my side, taking it away.

  Okay. So, we’ll add that to Taylor’s abilities. Whatever the hell that was.

  Going in for my attack, I throw heated punches in Taylor’s face, hitting her harder than I had hit her father. My fist connects with her cheek and eye, leaving burnt flesh on its drawback. I twist, backing my punch with all the strength I have. Inches from ramming into her face the fifth time, she grabs my hand, snatches me up by my neck, and slams me to the floor. I take her down with me, flipping over as we land. She’s much bigger than I am, allowing me an advantage in maneuvering around her. Flipping her onto her stomach, I get her in a headlock. The vines on my arms move, growing real, thorny lianas that leave my arm and wrap tightly around her neck, digging deep into her, what should be, impenetrable skin. Mixed colored liquid leaks from her puncture lesions and her face reddens with my vines crushing her windpipes.

  Whoa, this is new! And I like it!

  The last vine leaves my arm. I jump to my feet and ram my foot against her back. Her spine crushes under my impact, and I’m not nearly finished with this snake. I turn her over with another kick. Blinking, my eyes cloak, shadowing her stricken image. Her body’s already healing, but my vines give her no room to breathe as they constrict tighter and she gasps for air. I want to turn her into dust, but they said not to kill her. Having a better idea, I lift my black palm and blow over it as if I’m blowing a kiss. A kiss of fire. A blaze leaves my hand as I blow, flaming Taylor’s clothes and hair.

  Satisfied, I turn away from her, walking to Nathan’s side. She screams and the smell of burning plants fills the air. The vines curve and move along my arm again. Looking back at Taylor’s flaming body, the vines appear to be gone from around her neck. I’m enjoying watching Taylor burn without dying. That is until Mrs. Waturstrom snaps and points at her niece, ruining my fun.

  Reaching out to Taylor, I demand the fire to come back. It whips through the air back into my palm, leaving her clothes burnt. She lies on the floor, taking short breaths with her eyes closed. I look her over, feeling no remorse or sympathy for my sister.

  Nathan tugs my hand. “Hey. That vine stuff is new. When did you start blowing fire?”

  I answer with a shrug, watching Justin get up and rush over to his mate. Natalia is released too, running to her. Seeing her cry makes me feel bad. Not for Taylor, but our Mom’s been through enough.

  “That was unexpected,” Mrs. Waturstrom starts. “Is anyone not satisfied with Taylor’s punishment?”

  “I’m not satisfied, but I’m sure that’s as close as she’s going to get to death,” Nathan scoffs sourly, leaving the living room.

  I say nothing. I don’t feel anything. I’m empty. Broken. . . I want to wash this entire day from my body and sleep.

  Nathan goes to his bathroom, cutting on the water. It plows in the tub, splashing as it fills.

  Distraught, I stand in the middle of his floor in my wet clothes, somehow trying to process what all happened today—tonight. Nathan pulls me to the bathroom, undresses me and I sit in the filling tub. Bubbles form around me as the hot water rises, suppressing my chill. He pulls my hair down, and it falls wet and cold around my shoulders.

  Grabbing two towels from the rack, he takes the bigger one, rolls it, and sets it behind my neck. Gently, he pushes my head to lean back, and as the water rises over my chest, I close my eyes, letting myself relax.

  The water laps against my skin as he dips his hand in the tub. A towel wrings out and is placed over my face. He hasn’t yet changed out of his wet clothes, and I know he has to be just as uncomfortable as I was. But I appreciate his attention right now; I value his putting me first.

  Breathing in the heat from the hot towel, I fight my tears. Glen, Scott, Taylor . . . Dad. Let me not add on my finding out I kissed Roehl and utterly deceiving Nathan. It all bombards me, fights against me, forces me to feel the fear and the misery. Nathan was right. This life is far more than anything I expected.

  I sink further into the tub until the water meets my chin. Lying here for over thirty minutes, it all rests heavily on my mind, and none of it makes any sense. None of it was real. Glen’s infatuation with Monahan was a hoax, Roehl infecting Dad and causing him to hate Nathan to the extent of being a complete douchebag was a hoax, and Taylor was the biggest deceiver of them all.

  What brings to life a land of lies rained upon with broken truths. . .?

  There has to be a sensible answer to this question, besides lives are bred from secrets and lies. Realizing that, I figure I should probably tell my secrets to my mate. I can’t be a hypocrite myself.

  Nathan returns and unplugs the tub. Sitting up, I pull the now cold towel from my face. He’s changed, and I hope he’s comfortable as I’ve hogged his bathroom and he’s been unable to use his shower.

  With the tub nearly empty, he cuts the water back on and turns on the sprayer. I stand, and he gets in with me. In our silence, he washes my hair, and then my body, and I get out when he finishes
.

  His room is cold. Oddly cold and stiff.

  I towel dry my hair as best I can and dress to go to sleep.

  The closet provides the room with a soft light, keeping me from being swallowed by the darkness. I lay in the bed, just thinking. It’s quiet and my mind races from images of Glen jumping off the mountain to a torched Taylor. I don’t want to hate the girl, but she makes it hard not to. My lids droop, becoming too heavy to hold open. “Ugh,” I grumble, sitting up. I don’t want to doze off and dream about Roehl. Damn him. I want Nathan. There’s no doubt about that. Roehl and what he has done to our family disgust me. And now I know the confusion brings uncertainty and death. The last thing I want to do is kill myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could unsee some stuff. And there he is again, Roehl, with his golden sun and bright eyes, smiling at me with this enticingly sharp teeth and smooth lips. He taints the images in my head, replacing thoughts and experiences I’ve shared with Nathan with himself. Regrettably, I enjoy it, and I can no longer sit here. I have to fight this.

  I’ll watch TV, and that should keep my mind busy if I focus hard enough. Sitting on the floor, I turn on the TV and tune into two episodes of Family Guy before Nathan gets out of the shower. He passes me, heading to the closet, towel wrapped around his waist. Picking me up from the floor, he flicks off the TV, and we lay down. I’m grateful for his comfort when he wraps his arms around me and helps me to sleep without my thoughts of his brother.

  ANGRY LIONS ATTACK MY dreams. Their roars thrash through my haze, trying to wake me from the sleep I finally caught. I grab the nearest pillow, shoving it against my head. “Shh. Damn lions.”

  “What’s wrong, babe?”

  “The lions. They’re too loud,” I grumble, drifting off.

  “What lions?”

  “The ones roaring, Nate.”

  “Sparky, there are no lions. That’s Scott’s snoring.”

  “Oh,” I scoot closer to Nathan, burying my face in his rib cage, shoving the pillow harder on my ear to block out Scott’s snoring. “Scott’s snoring?” I realize, jumping up on my knees.