“Here. Just take mine okay. I’m not hungry and you’re making me crazy.” It’s a despairing snap as I push my tray at Remi on my left and skid my chair back to escape this nonsense. Not really caring if all eyes turn to quiet little me in surprise, because they’re behaving like a couple of toddlers.
They behave like this at every mealtime, but I’m on edge and tetchy, and my nerves are pulled taut with the knowledge I have to get going soon if I’m going to be ready by dusk. I have so much going on in my head, my heart is in eternal conflict, and I just need time out.
I stand up, ignoring the enquiring glances but no one questions, probably guessing I finally got as fed up with them bickering, as everyone else, as they do it almost daily. Everyone has been feeling the strain of late, with more trucks arriving this afternoon, more prisoners carried in from around the mountain, so I can be forgiven for the random outburst at the two most irritating of this sub pack. They may be older than me physically, but it’s obvious the twins are the two most juvenile among us.
The mess hall is full of Santos chowing down at this hour before they get called out to assemble for evening chores and duties. Patrols get pulled out on the main field an hour before dusk so that gives me a window of opportunity. To pack, get out, and move before the first patrol starts walking the perimeter. We have a rest and refresh hour in our rooms after meals, and for me that signals the last time I carry out my normal routine I have fallen into the past few days. It’s my window of opportunity.
I’m supposed to help with the cleaning crews every day after our evening meal and tonight I’m in the laundry hall for the first time ever, as they like to rotate duties. It says so on the checklist I got given a few days back, but as I’ve never been in there before, I doubt I’ll be missed.
“I’m going to get changed and freshen up before chores begin.” I say it to no one in particular, trying to act natural and weirdly, Jesus, is the one to reply. Eyeing me up in that odd paternal way he has become accustomed to doing lately.
“You should eat, keep your strength up. You’ve been looking pale these past few days.” It’s more of a stern command, than a suggestion. Blinking at him, unsure if I heard him right, I throw a subtle smile his way. Confused, but appreciative of the unexpected care. He does sound like a dad, or a big brother in this moment. Something I’m not used to.
“He’s right. You look tired and eating well is part of fixing that. Here, sit, we’ll behave.” It’s Remi this time, pushing my plate back at me, and as I glance from him to Domi who is nodding in agreement, both equally apologetically, guilty, and it hits me so hard it makes me choke up. There’s no malice or deviousness in their expressions. They genuinely are trying to advise me for my own good. I catch nods around the table as all eyes fall on me, the subtle expressions of agreement, that they’ve all noticed I’m not myself these past days and telling me they care enough to point it out.
They’ve accepted me as part of the sub pack, while I wasn’t even paying attention. This is pack care; this is how it’s meant to be. Watching out for one another and guiding one of your pack when they need it. Being a family.
I almost break, tears hitting the back of my eyes, and I have to try so hard to push them away and stay visually unaffected. To not crumble and show them it’s gotten to me, because for them, its natural behavior and they don’t know how overwhelming it is or how absent from my life it’s been. No one cared if I skipped meals in the home. If I looked pale, tired, or even just plain sad. No one mentioned it, no one pushed me to take care of myself. So invisible for so long and now I feel like these people see me, really, see me.
“I’m okay, and you’re right…I’ll eat later. I just need some quiet time to think.” I play it off coolly but inside so many warring emotions are kicking me in the ass, ripping my heart to shreds at the realization I have a chance of a real pack family with these people, and I’m leaving them behind. It’s hard to swallow, words sticking like glue in my throat, and my face aches with the effort of keeping my expression neutral.
“Are you coming to the com room after chores?” Cesar startles me with this one, and I blink at him, completely non-plussed. Panic starting to set in that we might have some sort of meeting I have to show face for, or Colton will suspect.
“Yeah, we decided we needed some pack hang time, a few beers, movie… all chillin together.” Radar finishes it for him, all eyes on me, standing awkwardly, poised, and I hesitate. Struggling to think up an instant refusal, while dying inside that I’m literally being asked to initiate, to bond, and I can’t. If ever there was a moment, I wanted to kick the fates in the ass, it’s now.
“You know the whole Carmen… Colton, thing. I don’t think….” I stutter my feeble excuse out, hoping they take pity on that messy triangle of heartache and release me from the invitation.
“He won’t be there, he’s avoiding all of us, so screw him. And ‘Carmoanallday’, she’s following his ass around like she’s in the haze already. She won’t be there if he isn’t.” Remi, adding more weight to my already trodden down soul which is about to snap under all this pressure. I can’t formulate a reply, sweat beading at the back of my neck when Meadow swoops in and saves my ass. Her eyes darting to me, concern etched on her brow.
“Give her some breathing space guys. Girls had a tough week and she’s tired. Let her see how she feels after her first time down in laundry. We all know how tough that shift is, stuck down in the sweat room.” She throws me a supportive half smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and I could practically kiss her. My foggy mind grasping onto that tiny reason to bail without actually rejecting the invitation.
“Yeah, I’ll see how I feel after that. I hear it’s pretty exhausting and I might be wiped out after. Don’t want to ruin your viewing with my snores.” I make light of it, exhaling softly with relief that she gave me an angle, and the urge to kiss her all over again calms me down.
“Well you know where it is, we’ll be there after nine.” Domi, too now, and I honestly feel like this is some sort of sign, but I have to ignore it. I have to stay steadfast with the plan.
“Sure, I’ll catch you guys later. I better go.” It’s a fast exit, saying it as I make a turn and head away, so I don’t get sidetracked with anymore conversation or unexpected invitations. Hoping not to get caught in another offer I can hardly refuse and I’m so busy looking back, smiling at them guiltily, that I don’t look where I’m going. I crash chest on into someone coming into the mess hall door, ‘ooofting’ with the sudden contact and wind myself lightly, bouncing, almost sending myself, and them, flying with the force of collision.
“Ouch!” I yelp out in response, winded momentarily, and inhale sharply, catching my breath in my throat when I realize who’s standing a foot back from me now and looking equally surprised. That swoon worthy cute boy face, dark sultry eyes under a furrowed brow, and I just want to melt into a hole on the floor and disappear. It could be me, and today that this happens.
“Hey. Sorry.” Colton tries to avoid looking right at me, the awkward tension deafening and for a moment I feel like looking up at the sky and screaming WHY??? Someone up there is really testing me now I know what I’m doing, and I can’t deal with this on top of everything else. Heart beat a hundred times faster, palms clammy, and legs weak, as I get hit with the usual Colton effects.
“Hey, and bye.” I throw the words in a hurried, almost sassy breath, duck around him fast, avoiding looking at him anymore than I need to, and head on my way at speed not really wanting to get into this with him. He affects me in all ways, and I can’t stay strong with him in my head. It’s already too raw and I don’t want to lose my courage. I don’t look back, almost fall over Carmen, running along behind him, ignore her completely, and shut off my hearing when his voice echoes after me
“I guess… bye.” He sounds wounded but screw him. He’s no right to be hurt at my rebuff because he’s literally ignored me for days. He’s the reason I’m running. I try not to let myself react,
just tuck my head down against my chest and keep going, pushing it all away.
I stop thinking about him, will my brain to focus on the steps I’m taking, and hyper speed up the stairs as soon as I get out of sight. I need to file everything into one little box in my head and focus on doing, not feeling. My emotions are not helping, I have to take from logic to deal with this. I can fall apart later, when I’m out of here and miles away. I can break like a damn, if that’s what I need to do, wail to my heart’s content, but just not right now. I have to be strong to see this through.
Despite telling myself that, it doesn’t stop a tiny little murmur of insane jealousy in the corner of my brain, shouting questions at me anyway. Why was he heading in their now, after days of not? He doesn’t eat with us anymore for some unknown reason, and where was he with her? They didn’t look like they just bumped into each other, she was definitely following him into the mess hall, although to be fair she’s been following him for days anyway.
I push the green mist aside, chastising myself for it and get my ass up the stair, along the hall and down to the end where my room sits. Wasting no time getting inside and breathe a sigh of relief when I lock it shut from the inside and sag back for a moment, to pull my wits together. I turn to walk to my bed and unexpectedly kick something light across the floor, looking down as it skids to the center of my rug and stops. I scoop down to pick it up.
It’s an envelope and I recognize Meadow’s gentle curving cursive on the front. I turn it over hastily, inhaling her heady mix of scent and perfume as I pull it open and gawp at the stash of cash inside. There’s a note tucked in behind the money and I pull it out to read it, hands shaking at my discovery, once again overwhelmed.
Hey, Chica
This isn’t much, but you need it more than I do. My number is on the back of this. Keep it. You know where we are if you need us. No matter what! We’re your pack.
I’ll miss you, Hemara.
XXX
The tears mist my eyes, my throat swelling so I almost can’t breathe as ache hits me low in the gut and threatens to make me crumble. I push the note back inside quickly, trying to combat it and flick through the cash, mentally counting almost two hundred dollars and it breaks the wall that’s been holding in the tears. I slump down onto the floor, like a disheveled sack and begin to cry, holding it close to my chest and completely break down. It’s not just for this, but for everything.
Why now did I find my pack, at a time when I thought I had no other option? Why would the fates give me something closer to a real home, only to make it unreachable by the tiniest stretch?
I have to pull myself together and stop being weak. None of this matters, and it doesn’t change things. I have to get my crap together and stick to what I decided. I have to stay strong and determined. I can’t break, because if I do, I won’t be able to put myself back together.
I pull myself to get up and walk to the closet, despite heaving with wracking breaths, sniffing, as I try to stop the tears. I have to find some sort of bag to pack my shit up and focus on doing, not feeling. Luckily, whoever brought my things from the orphanage, packed some of them in a large backpack that had been Vanka’s. I drag it out of the bottom corner, holding it for a second, a fresh wave of pain twisting my insides as I stroke across the corner where she wrote her name in a black marker pen. Bold, jaggy letters, that somehow represent who she was in life. I numb it out, swallow it down, and begin to haul out essentials and stuff them inside.
I need basics, like a couple changes of clothes, toiletries, the money, the snacks I have in my room. I need something to sleep with too, like a blanket to lay on the ground, and something to carry water in, just in case I can’t find a stream or river in hours. I don’t know what else to pack, and I end up shoving things in haphazardly. A book I never got to reading, the iPod that was among my belongings, and then I realize I probably won’t be able to charge it if I stay in the wilderness and put it back on the shelf. I find a lighter, a swiss pen knife that I kept among my treasured items from my father’s possessions. Some old camping matches, and his flint stick for making fires, should I run out of the others.
I push through my stuff and come to Colton’s grey t-shirt, pausing painfully, recognizing it as the one he gave me to wear when I shredded my clothes. I thought I ‘d given everything back to Meadow for him, but this still remains, like a scar on my heart. His human smell still lingers in the fabric, despite it being washed, or maybe I’m just conjuring it up for myself, his scent so ingrained in my head that I will it to come back at me. I impulsively push it in the bag, stroking it for a second too long, and zip everything up inside. I shouldn’t take a part of him with me, for my own sanity, but I can’t bear to take it back out.
I keep checking my watch, even though I know I have another 3 hours before they assemble for dusk patrol. I have to kill time without going back downstairs and acting weird. I need to occupy myself up here until it’s time to go, without obsessing and driving myself crazy.
A shower!!! The thought hits me… that’s an idea, and a nap if I can force it. Refresh myself, change into more suitable clothes than this sport pant and t-shirt duo I have sweated all over. Tasks will pass the time and keep my brain centered.
I pull my clothes off without hesitation, throwing them in my wash basket and head to the bathroom quickly. Yanking my hair down from my ponytail and turn on the shower, testing it before I go to step in.
Lorey? You there? Colton’s voice hits me in the center of my forehead, the last thing I was expecting and I almost slide with surprise as I lay my foot on the wet shower floor, grabbing onto the door to stop myself falling, like a newborn fawn on unsure legs, almost crashing into mayhem.
For the love of all that is holy!! Why are the fates screwing with me today?
Yes, what do you want? I snap, a little harshly, instantly remorseful at my knee jerk reaction to him, then not, when anger kicks me in the butt and reminds me what an ignorant asshat he is. That he’s all good to reach out now, after an unexpected brush with me downstairs, that clearly pushed his need to contact me button a lot harder. I rub my bruised shin which bashed the shower screen and jump in under the hot water instead of standing out here like an idiot.
I just…. after seeing you downstairs….. I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. I can pick up on the hesitation, the agony in his tone and I end up sighing heavily. Madness wavering, because I’m a fool when it comes to him sounding like this, this boy, and against all my better judgements, I soften my tone when I should be cutting him off instead.
Why are you reaching out? We both know what you’re going to do, can we just not do this? He’s killing me, making all those emotions spiral up and mess with me all over again and I need to be stronger than this. I need to bring back the bite to my voice, the steel to my resolve, and end this before I make myself even more confused.
I can’t seem to stop myself. I can only go so long and the need to see you or hear you gets too much. I have no will power when it comes to you. Back to his hot, cold, bullshit and I know if I let myself get drawn in again, it’s only going to go like every other time. A couple days of pulling close and then he backs off and leaves me feeling desolate again. I get it, I do, because the need for him is always stronger when we have some sort of contact, but I’m not playing anymore. It’s not helping either of us, and as much as I love him, I have to do this.
I have a solution… every time you feel like you have to talk to me… go talk to Carmen. I’m sure she’ll love that. I focus on something to be pissed about and it does the trick. Moody, bitchy tone initiated. I can always count on my broken-hearted jealousy to find the fire in my soul. I sound as bitter as he makes me feel, and I’m glad the water is pouring over my face and camouflaging the tears that have started to fall of their own accord. I have zero control of that right now, and glad he can neither see nor hear them.
I deserve that. I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve been a coward for days because I can’
t face you. I guess we both know what’s going to happen in a week’s time. I don’t know how to say the words to you, or how to say sorry for what I’m going to do. In that one little statement he confirms my worst fears and solidifies my decision. Ripping what’s left of my shredded mutilated heart out, and stomping on it all over the floor until there’s nothing left but mess. He’s chosen to go through with marking her and this is his goodbye. His confirmation.
Then don’t. Maybe just leave me alone until it’s done, and then we’ll see what happens from there. I need to go. I have to go do chores. I lie, trying to sound tough. Mentally scathing in tone, even if my body is starting to shake with the buildup of sobbing coming my way. Trembling as I try to hold it in, breathing fast and shallow. Throwing cold and snappy in there, while my limbs are quaking with the effort, but I can’t let him know what it is I am planning on doing. He would stop me, even with his mind made up. His need to protect me would overrule everything else.
Right, chores, of course. I have to go assemble for patrol in a couple hours too. Enjoy your chores…. I guess, I’ll see you around. He lingers, saying it slowly as though looking for a reason to not let this end.
Yeah, you too. Now I gotta go. Bye. I don’t give him a chance, to linger more, or to reply, sensing his hesitation so I take control. I’m the one to close the door on our connection and shut it down dead as I do. Doing something I haven’t ever done to him, it was always him that did it to me, metaphorically shutting it, bolting it tight, and pushing the soundproofing button on our link so he can’t come back anymore. I don’t want him getting through, I mentally lock it and toss the key aside. I’m not going to lie, it feels like I just stabbed myself in the chest with a dull object, and I gasp sob when the dead silent noise consumes that part of my mind. It’s horrendous to know I’m the one to cut him off but I have to do this for my own sanity, I can’t have him popping into my brain anymore. Never again.
Awakening: Book 1 Page 25