So I am extremely angry at Maggie Stiefvater at the moment.
If you've finished Linger, you know why.
Oh, and if you haven't, there's oodles of spoilers in here. So DO. NOT. READ.
SAM
The night air surrounded me, seemingly artic. But I suppose when you imprison yourself of the heated aroma of Beck's house for over twenty-four hours, the winter air would seem rather extreme.
I sucked in a deep breath, rubbing my hands up and down my arms, in some attempt to find warmth.
To anyone else, the dark woods beyond Beck's house may seem eerie and preferably avoidable. But to someone who had once lived in these woods for months at a time, for years, it just felt like an abondoned home. It was like a dreaded hometown that you were dying to get out of. Once you got out, you looked at it differently. You might have even found it strange. But it would always remain to be a home... in a way.
I shut my eyes, basking in the chill. Absent-mindedly, I wondered where she was. It was a difficult impulse to control: my thoughts of her. A wince escaped my now pursed lips. I hadn't forgotten how extremely painful it was to think of her. But ironically, it was all my thoughts drifted to. My mind was a collage of her, images of the good moments and the last tragic ones, soundbytes of her voice, her lovely voice, cooing in my ear. She was all there was any longer.
Finding a hint of dark humor in the scenario, I smiled a sad smile. It hurt me so much to think of her, and yet, I couldn't think of anyone, or anything else. The smile soon departed, as did my want to be outdoors. It didn't change anything, didn't have any affect on me. Nothing truly did.
I stalked back towards Beck's house-I needed to stop thinking of it as that-hoping Cole wouldn't be present. I didn't obtain hatred for Cole-not anymore than I had upon our first meeting-but I just longed to be alone. Sure, Cole allowed me plenty of space, of lonliness, but the fact that he was there, drifting around the house, as I was, that aggitated me for some unknown reason.
The eruption of harsh wind quit as I stepped into the warm household. I stripped off my coat and shoes, tossing them next to the front door.
To my annoyance, I detected noise from the kitchen. I had planned on heading straight towards my bedroom, retiring my half-performed attempts at trying to be among normal-ness for the night but Cole soon came into view, stepping into the living room. He must've been aware of my arrival.
"Short walk." He noted, leaning against the wall.
I didn't look at him, making my way towards the staircase in the den.
"Short tolerance." I reminded him, coldly.
Although, I kept my eyes in direction of my destination, I knew what my sight would contain. No reaction from Cole's irises of green.
"See any wolves?" His voice didn't mask the double meaning... or the curiousity.
I knew he'd meant her. And I knew that he truly was interested. I'm sure my company wasn't the best to keep, for the time being.
I shook my head, passing him, heading for the staircase. But he took grip on my shoulder, stopping me. I looked at him-for the first time-meeting his gaze and noticed how desperately exhausted he looked. Because of my lack of attention span to anything outside of my brain at the moment, I hadn't taken notice to how long he had been human for this span of shifting, or the last time he'd slept.
A tinge of guilt washed over me.
In a way, I was supposed to be Cole's Beck. He was new-probably scared, as I was. And it was obvious he was different from other wolves. He stayed human much longer than possible for unstable shifters, in the beginning of their life as a wolf. I should be helping him, guiding him, but instead I was too caught up in my self-thrown pity party that I couldn't focus on anything that didn't involve wanting her back.
"Isabel called today. She said her father got a little wasted tonight... went on some mad rage about the wolves... took out his shot gun and went into the woods." He must have noticed the horror-stricken face I wore. "Don't worry. She stopped him. I just... I thought you should know. He hates those wolves..." He muttered and looked down, breaking our gaze.
I pursed my lips together and nodded slightly, breaking from his grip and stepping up the stairs in my departure to my bedroom. Before making my journey half-way up the staircase, I froze. "I won't let him kill her. I don't want him to kill any of them... but he won't kill her."
I felt my jaw clench, involuntarily. My fists balled up, as I continued my way up the stairs and then into my bedroom.
Cole didn't say anything in reply.
COLE
There was nothing that I could do to make Sam remotely feel better. But then, I knew that. It would be foolish for me to think otherwise. After all, he could barely stand me.
I knew, all too well, that once someone had fallen into the deep, dark, black hole of depression, it took so much more than any human, at the moment, could provide to drag them out.
But for Sam's case, there was hope.
For when summer sprang upon us and when Grace reappeared again, he would rise up.
But then, I also knew, that when the cold air returned and Grace dissapeared, he would seep back in.
And that time around, I most likely wouldn't be around as much to even attempt to provide any assistance.
Subconciously, I wondered if Grace would shift back and forth, like I had been experiencing in the last few months. But hope was lost there, too. I shifted for an abnormal span of time when it came to my human form.
I doubted the possibilties.
I allowed myself to drift towards the couch in the living room, plopping onto the cushion. A large sigh escaped from my mouth as I shut my eyes. But sleep wouldn't come. I hadn't gotten any real sleep in nearly a week. It was unbearable: the exhaustion. And I couldn't understand why I would be so restless. I wasn't the depressed one. I hardly knew Grace. This shouldn't affect me so much. And it was horrid to say, but it wasn't Victor's death either. I couldn't bring myself to find such sorrow, for some reason. And perhaps that made me feel worse.
But I realized it wasn't just that. It was this wolf thing, this choice. I was slowly understanding that it hadn't been the correct one. I had made a mess of my life. And I refused to fix it. I ran away from it. And this decision had something to do with Victor, as well. I had destoryed his life, as well as mine. And for that, he was murdered.
It would be absurd for me to not feel some responsibility for that.
A year ago, people would look at my life as perfection. People knew my face, nearly everywhere I went. I was Cole St. Clair, lead man of NARKOTIKA. I was famous and loved. Thousands of girls screamed my name every night I performed on stage. People loved me. People lived to please me.
But for some reason, that didn't please me. I wasn't happy. Quite the opposite. I had everything some people could only dream of, and before the age of eighteen, at that.
I kept my eyes closed tight, attempting to remember a simpler time. My childhood before the genuis kicked in passed through my mind. It was nearly heartbreaking to realize that this time span was insanely difficult to remember. These days, the memories of my human life only extended towards those of tradgedy. Of misery and sorrow and pain.
After all, those were the most memorable.
SAM
I dreamed it was summer.
Of course, I had dreamed that every night since... that night I lost her.
But this dream had seemed so real in comparison to the other dreams.
It had been a somewhat long day. But the rising temperature had brought several hints of optimism into my system. My shift was coming to a close as the sun set beyond the horisen. It was somewhat of a surprise to me that I had managed to keep my job at the bookstore. But it was a small distraction for my restless brain, so I didn't wish to give it up.
After closing up shop, I retreated towards my car. As I passed through the back alley in which I always parked my Volkswagen, the heat seeped into my skin. I flashed a hopeful smile, though I was careful not to keep my hopes to high. It would only hurt more if they weren't fulfilled. But still. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of joy. Summer was upon us. And that meant my lovely summer girl.
The drive home was short and painless. Traffic wasn't too bad and I was back to the house in a span of half an hour.
I recieved a strange feeling as I approached the house, as if I were expectant of something. I felt this in every dream. It was her cue. Unlocking the door and quickly stepping inside, I had felt the odd urge to flee to my bedroom.
I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, awestruck, staring, breathless.
There she was.
Laying in my bed, wearing a t-shirt that belonged to me, snuggled into my bed. The t-shirt's length stretched down to her mid-thigh, though it was hyked up slightly by her lazy position on the mattress. Her beautiful blonde hair was sprawled across my pillow, messy and enticing.
Grace. I thought her name for the first time since I'd lost her.
She'd seen me now. Her lips curved into a small smile. She sat up, quickly, her brown eyes sparkling. "Sam." She whispered.
I strode towards her. She jumped up eagerly at the same time. I crushed her body to mine, planting kisses on any patch of skin that was visible.
"Grace." I murmured, kissing her forehead.
"Grace." I said, kissing her cheek.
"Grace." I muttered, kissing her nose.
"Grace." I cooed, kissing her neck.
"Grace." I said, finally coming back up again, and kissing her lips.
She smiled up at me, then. "I missed you so much."
And then the dream was just a dream and the harsh reality crashed down on me, once more.
I'm counting down the days until this will become reality.
I rolled over in my bed, glancing at the calendar that I had recently hung up on my wall.
Today, it had been a week.