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Chapter 2:
"For some people, the 'point of no return' begins the moment their souls become aware of each other's existence." – C. Joybell C.
My body finally reached its breaking point sometime after eight o'clock. I had fallen asleep on the cleaned sofa in the living room after giving it a good scrubbing and a healthy spray of air freshener to get out the smell of staleness. My intentions had been to only let my eyes rest for half a moment, but I had inevitably dozed off and didn't wake again until a sudden ringing next to my ear jolted me out of my heavy slumber. It took several seconds for me to realize where, exactly, I was, and to understand that the ringing beside my head was actually coming from my new cell phone.
Out of habit, I blindly reached out in my disoriented state to grab the phone from the coffee table before pressing it to my ear. "Hello?" I managed to ask through a yawn, my voice clogged with sleep. My eyebrows furrowed when there was no response, and it was then that I realized that it wasn't a phone call; instead, my alarm was warning me that ten o'clock had arrived, bringing with it a reminder that I desperately needed to go to the store.
I let out a groan as I stretched, joints aching as my toes curled against the rough fabric of the couch. "Too damn early," I grumbled, pulling myself into a sitting position and running a hand through my tangled hair. "Come on, Audrey – Katherine. My name is Katherine now. Time to get up and face the day."
'Face the day' is exactly what I did. I stood, stretched again, and trailed up the stairs to wake the two snoozing boys. My first stop was at Luke's room, pleased to find that he was already awake, clad in his pajamas and digging around in one of his unpacked boxes for his action figures. He gave me a wide, toothy grin. "Morning, mommy!" he greeted happily.
"Morning, sweetie," I nodded, moving to dig in his dresser drawers to get him a set of appropriate clothes for the day. "Did you sleep well?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Oh?" I asked, smiling triumphantly when I pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt with one of his favorite cartoon characters emblazoned on the front. "Why not? Was your bed not comfy enough? Did you need more blankets or pillows?"
"It was the wolves, mommy," he said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Wolves outside the window last night."
"Wolves?" I asked, humoring him. I had to dodge a mountain of toys on the floor as I walked over to his bed, and laid out the clothes before moving to help him remove his pajamas. "What wolves?"
"Outside in the woods!" he replied eagerly. "They kept making noises – AWOOOO!" he crooned, mimicking a wolf's howl before letting out a giggle when I tickled him.
"Howling, huh? Well that was a pretty good howl that you just did, maybe you're a wolf in disguise," I playfully said, tugging his shirt over his head. "Now, my little wolf-boy, finish getting dressed while I try to go and wake up your sleepyhead uncle."
Now it was time for the challenge.
Rolling back my shoulders, I pushed open the door to Isaac's room and flicked on the light switch. He was sprawled across the entirety of his mattress, limbs flailing in several different directions; his blankets were hanging off of the bed while his head was tucked securely under his pillow. "Alright, time to get up and face the day," I called out, moving across the room to pull the blankets the rest of the way off of the bed before I opened the curtains to let in the dim morning light. "We have to go to the store."
His voice sounded muffled under the pillow, but I could make out the general tone of whatever he had said. "Go away."
"Come on," I urged, forcefully tugging the pillow away from his head and hitting his bare back with it. "The truck is leaving in twenty minutes, with or without you; if you get up now, you'll still have time to get something light for breakfast."
"Fantastic," he stated, face pressed into the sheets. "Leave without me, I don't care."
"Fine," I said simply, complacent. "Then I'm getting pink paint for your bedroom walls." At his pained groan, I reached out to ruffle his hair. "Get dressed; I don't want to have to wait for you."
He waved a hand to gesture me away. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be ready."
I doubted it, but I left him alone. "I'm serious about the pink paint," I threatened as I headed toward his bedroom door. "If you aren't downstairs by the time I'm ready, we're leaving without you."
"Slave driver."
"Lazy ass."
By the time I exited out of my bedroom, out of my pajamas and dressed in something decent that didn't smell completely of cleaning products and made sure that Luke had gotten something to eat before we left, Isaac trudged out of his bedroom looking as though he were still half asleep.
"Ah, it looks like the dead has risen," I commented when he collapsed in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, resting his head on the hard surface. "Welcome to the land of the living again."
"I feel like I could sleep for another two days," he mumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "We were up for at least two days straight. How are you still functioning?" I lifted my coffee mug and took a sip of the liquid in response, making him roll his eyes. "Of course," he replied sarcastically, resting his head on his hand. "You and that coffee - so unhealthy."
Less than five minutes later, I had snatched up my keys and wallet off of the counter and led my ragtag group outside and to the truck. None of us spoke again until we were out onto the highway.
"I'm completely surprised at you," said Isaac, resting his head against the window.
"Why?"
"Because you're acting so unlike yourself – to be honest, it's starting to creep me out," he admitted, awkwardly shifting in his seat to face me. "The Audrey I know would be fighting tooth and nail to do what she wanted – to stay in her own home and not listen to anyone else make her choices for her."
"I'm not Audrey anymore," I found myself replying, my voice holding only a small amount of bitterness. "If it was any other situation, I would have fought tooth and nail to stay where I was, but you know why I couldn't."
"No, Au-Katherine, I don't know," he shot back.
"If it was just me, I wouldn't have left," I said calmly, despite the fact that I wanted to reach out and throttle him. "But I wasn't going to risk you and Lu-Thomas. I would give up everything I had a thousand times over if it meant the two of you were going to be safe."
"Who's Thomas?" piped up the boy in the backseat innocently.
"You are, honey."
"But I'm Luke," he stated confusedly, leaning forward.
I exchanged a glance with Isaac, racking my brain to explain the situation in a way that he would understand. "You know how mommy used to work for the government to put bad people in prison?"
In the rearview mirror, I saw him nod.
"Well, we're playing a… sort of a game of hide and seek with someone mommy put in jail," I hesitantly explained. "He's a bad man who ran away when he was in trouble, so we're going to be hiding from him. We're using different names so that he won't find us. Your new name is Thomas, Isaac is Aiden, and my new name is Katherine – but you can still call me mommy. Does that make sense?"
"Is that why we had to move? Was the fire because of the bad man?"
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, it was." There was a brief moment of silence. "So from now on we're all going to use our play names whenever we can. You can't tell anyone your real name or we might lose hide and seek."
"Oh. Okay."
Once he went back to playing with the action figure he had brought with him, I turned back to Isaac. "I know this is going to be hard on us; I know how it must have hurt to leave all of your friends and uproot your life, but the fact is that things are going to be different now," I stated, taking on a gentle tone. "This isn't the capitol city anymore – it's a small town and people don't act the same way, so we have to change who we are to keep under the radar. If that means cooperating, being accommodating, and playing nice with the locals, then that's what we're going to do. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
And no more was said on the subject.
oOo
The nearest hardware store was located deep within La Push, in a surprisingly clear area surrounded on one side by trees and on the other, a small grocery store. The building itself looked as though it had been recently remodeled, but the sign reading 'Call's Hardware' was rusty and falling off of its hinges. I pulled into one of the several empty parking spots with a sudden sense of uneasy foreboding entering my heart, climbing out of the truck and breathing in the fresh smell of the damp air.
A small bell above the door jingled as we entered the building, alerting everyone in the store of our sudden presence. I grunted as I lifted Luke into a basket, fingers curling around the handle and gripping tightly to the key around my neck for support. I followed Isaac through the store and prepared myself for… for what? I didn't know, but there was this itching feeling at the back of my neck that told me that something was going to happen – soon.
A shockingly gigantic and muscular man with shaggy hair was standing behind the counter, chatting to a boy of similar height that was holding a young child in his arms. Both gave me nods of acknowledgement before the one behind the counter, whose name-tag read 'Embry,' greeted politely, "Welcome to Call's Hardware, ma'am. Is there anything I can help you with today?"
"Paint? And brushes?" I asked, fingers clenching around the handle of the basket as Luke glanced curiously around, studying the place with a keen eye. The little girl waved at us, and Luke smiled and waved back at her.
"Aisle three," Embry answered, giving a cheery smile.
I gave a half-hearted smile in response, but I was sure it came out something like a grimace. "Thanks."
The aisles were small and a bit cramped, but I managed to push the basket through the store and end up in front of the paint samples. The selection was limited, but I was okay with that – I wasn't in the mood to make any huge decisions. Picking out a plain pearly cream for the kitchen and living room, and a dark red for my bedroom, I turned to the youngest boy waiting patiently behind me. "Okay, sweetie, which color do you want for your room?"
He gave the array of samples a critical look; Luke's eyes narrowed as he pointed out a dark navy blue on the very end of the row of colors. "That one."
I pointed at it, confirming. "This one?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he urged, reaching down to take the samples from my hands.
"Okay, because you won't be able to change it if you decide you don't like the blue later," I warned him.
"I want this one," he insisted, shoving the sample into my hands.
"What about you?" I asked Isaac. "Do you see anything you like?"
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kind of like the dark green, but I'm not sure."
"It kind of looks like the color you had in your room before," I pointed out. "That would be good if you wanted something familiar." Seeing the look on his face, I continued, "or I could just let you decide while I finish getting what I need. Come find me when you're done."
"Will do."
Gradually I made my way through the store, tossing items into my basket as I checked them off of my mental list. As I was critically looking at a box of light bulbs, the bell at the front of the building jingled lightly to signal the arrival of someone new. "Hey, Paul," a duo of voices greeted from the front of the store, while a high-pitched cheer sounded out, "Uncle Paulie!"
There was a deep chuckle, then a husky voice responding, "Hey, Claire-Bear." Something else was said, but the words were honestly too quiet for me to hear until the voice pined in again with, "I would honestly kill to be asleep right now, but I had to come and pick up some extra parts for Em's gift. Sam is rushing me to finish it for her, but it's kind of hard when she keeps changing what color she wants for the nursery."
"You know how she is - always indecisive. But I'm sure that whatever you end up doing, she's going to love it."
There was a snort and a bit of laughter. "Yeah, yeah. It's just hard to get around to finishing it when Sam has me working overtime now with patrol since –"
There was a sudden hiss and more urgently whispered conversation, then a beat of silence. I was only half-listening to their conversation, but something about his words made me pause. Shaking my head, I grabbed a small box of the bulbs and placed it gently in the basket, listening to the metal object creak against the floor as it rolled across the tile.
The conversation at the front started up again. "Are you at least going to be at their place for dinner tonight? You know she's going to kill you if you miss again – especially without a good reason."
"I know," replied the voice that I assumed was Paul. "And trust me, that bitch I missed Emily's cooking for last time was not worth the effort. Good in the sack, but she had the personality of a rock."
I cringed, a flare of heat going straight up my spine. They had a lot of nerve using that kind of language about a woman, especially in front of a small child. "Uncle Paulie," the young voice interrupted, "That's not a nice word!"
There was chuckling from somewhere up front. "Yeah, Paul, watch the language. That's just so messed up though, missing Emily's cooking for some chick you're only spending one night with. You're lucky you haven't caught some kind of –"
Before he could even finish his sentence, I cleared my throat loudly. There was a lull in the conversation, a lowly muttered comment and a snort, more muttered conversation, and finally, heavy footsteps that headed in the opposite direction of the store - thankfully, far away from where I was standing.
Tossing a box of hooks next to the light bulbs, I pushed my basket forward through the aisle and toward the counter. I did my best to hold my head as high as possible despite my short stature – a defense mechanism that I had developed and perfected over the years. If I could make myself seem taller, I would come off as confident. Though with the size of these men, I'm sure they probably just thought I was amusing.
Isaac appeared at the end of the aisle then, surprising me at his sudden appearance. "These guys are huge!" he mouthed, raising a hand high above his head to show just how tall these people were. "Like they have literally got to be on steroids or something!"
I put my finger on my lips to hush him in case someone heard his words, and gestured for him to follow after he handed over a paint sample of the dark green color he had originally liked.
No one new was at the counter, but I could still feel the presence of another person in the store like there was a radar attached to my brain. The feeling was pungent, sinking into my skin and making me dart my gaze back and forth in anticipation. The cashier – Embry – smiled at my approach as if nothing was wrong. "Did you find everything okay today, ma'am?"
"Yes," I said, my tone clipped as I placed the paint samples on the counter. "I need four cans of the white, two of the red, and one each of the dark green and blue."
The shorter of the two boys had raised an eyebrow at my blunt and all business-like tone, but didn't speak. Embry's smile fell a little, though he was still civil and helpful. "If you wait right here, I'll be more than happy to go get these in the back for you."
I nodded, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter.
"Quil," he spoke directly to the other boy. "Do me a favor and ring up what she has in her basket."
Quil just shrugged, replacing Embry behind the counter as he headed to the back of the store. Their height intimidated me slightly, both being well over 6 foot and made up of what looked like pure muscle. Quil placed the little girl, who I could now see was clutching a stuffed wolf toy, onto the counter to free his hands and ring up the merchandise. "You guys must be new here, huh?" he asked conversationally. "Haven't seen you before."
"We just moved here," I replied, tone clipped.
He opened his mouth to say something else, apparently trying to be conversational, but was interrupted by the re-arrival of Embry. Two cans of paint were hanging in each of his hands, and he set them down in the basket. "Here's the white," he stated. "The other two are in the mixer right now. It'll only take a few minutes for them to finish."
"I don't mind waiting," I responded, watching as he climbed back behind the counter and pushed the other boy away.
"Your total with the paint is going to end up being $184.24."
I handed over two hundred-dollar bills, still not feeling comfortable enough to use a traceable card. My eyes glued themselves to the ceiling to avoid eye contact and not accidentally open myself up for any new conversations.
"Here's your receipt," he stated, handing over the strip of paper and the change. "Will you need any help bringing out the paint to your car?"
"No, we can handle it."
"Alright then," he shrugged, exchanging a glance with Quil. "I'll just go and get the rest of your paint."
"Are you liking it here in La Push?" Quil asked as I moved my basket a little bit away from the counter and toward the door. My body language should have told him that I really wasn't in the mood for conversation, but he apparently didn't seem to notice - or more likely, didn't seem to care.
"It's a little too wet for my taste."
He smirked. "You get used to it. I take it that you all aren't from a place that gets a lot of rain?"
"New York City," I stated, lips twitching upward in grim amusement.
He raised an eyebrow. "Long way away from home. What made you move all the way out here?"
I tried, I really did, but I just couldn't help myself. "Oh, you know, we were just trying to get away from all of the people that ask too many nosy questions that aren't any of their business."
His brows shot up to his hairline while a snort of derisive laughter came from the opposite side of the store; it was almost immediately disguised with a cough. I felt Isaac nudge my side, giving me a stern look, but I merely gave him a tight smile in return, my eyes narrowing at one of the nearby shelves in irritation.
It was silent, and Quil opened his mouth to respond but was almost immediately interrupted by another voice. I heard him before I saw him, the sound of heavy steps in work boots hitting the floor approaching from one of the far aisles. "Sweetheart," said the voice, clear and condescending, "if you were looking for a place where people would mind their own business, you came to the wrong town."
My eyes and tone of voice turned icy and filled with warning as I began to turn and glare at the offender. "Don't call me sweetheart."
Looking back on this moment later in my life, I could pinpoint it as the exact moment that everything went to hell – or at least, it became the moment that defined everything that ever happened to me for the rest of my life. Everything that I had ever experienced up until that point was preparing me, steeling my nerves for this exact second.
My senses went into overdrive; my skin tingled, goosebumps making their way up my arms. For some reason, a memory of Mona came to the forefront of my mind, remembering how she had said, "It's like Mayberry – no secrets, no surprises," and the ominous feeling that had come with those words had returned tenfold. My hand went back to the key around my neck, squeezing it so tightly that I could feel it leaving an imprint in my skin.
An aching feeling settled itself in my chest. Something was off. Something was wrong. Or… no, not wrong. Ominous – unsettled seemed to be a better way to describe it. The feeling in the pit of my chest was not necessarily a bad one, but it was strange all the same. Something was going to happen, I knew. I wasn't entirely sure what, but it was something. And it was happening now.
My eyes focused in on the man that had spoken, trailing upward over his brown steel-toed boots to his cargo shorts and faded, dirty t-shirt. His muscles were prominent but not overly so; he had muscular calves and thighs that hinted at his body being that of a runner. His arms were defined and veiny, while his hands looked rough; one was clenched around two boxes of screws, while the other hung limply at his side. He was tall, too, like the other men standing behind the counter, and I had a passing thought that there must be in the water to make these people grow the way they did.
As my fingers tightened around the key, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as though I was being watched. Finally, my gaze shot upward toward his face, cautious about the blatant curiosity that had suddenly overcome me. As it turned out, he was studying me with as much intensity as I was examining him, but in a completely different way. His eyes lingered a bit too slowly on my jean-clad legs and over the curves of my hips, settling just a little too long on my chest before moving upward to my face.
The irises of his eyes were so dark that for a single moment I thought they were black, but instead they were a deep, beautiful brown. He froze mid-step when our eyes met, free hand in the process of reaching up to run through his hair. His brows scrunched together in confusion as his blatant stare moved from appraisal to shock. The cocky smirk tumbled off of his face at the same moment that the box of screws fell out of his hand. The tiny metal pieces popped out of their box and scattered across the floor, rolling under the displays.
I had seen men like him before – well, not like him, but his type. He was one of them.
In my years of working with the scum of the earth and all those who associated with that scum, I had developed a habit of putting men that I came into contact with into one of three categories:
In category one, you had your basic jerks; your everyday men who think they're absolute tough shit. I had run-ins with these types of people several times a day back in D.C.; sometimes you just couldn't escape them because they were literally everywhere. Then, a little higher up on the scale in the second category, you had your major assholes – the men who literally went out of their way to make the lives of other people a living hell. I had seen my fair share of these people as well.
And then finally, there was category three: them – what I liked to call the absolute un-evolved neanderthals of the earth. These were the misogynistic douchebags of the world that tossed women around like they were sacks of meat. I had put several of them in prison – a fact that I was extremely proud of – and I had gained the ability to spot one of them from miles away. Anyone who didn't have respect for women was no better than the gum underneath my shoes.
And I could tell by the way he looked at me that he was one of them.
But at the same time… he was still different.
I was used to glances on the street. I was used to having people studying me like I was a slab of meat, like he had been doing only seconds before. It was easy to handle that, and I knew how to stand my ground and blatantly call people out on their sexist harassment. I had done it before and I wouldn't hesitate to do it again.
But this… this wasn't the same. I had never been looked at with such intensity and passion, and it made me extremely uncomfortable. In response, I did what I did best – went into my ultimate defensive mode, simultaneously shielding a baffled Isaac and oblivious Luke with my body as they, Quil, and the little girl stared on in confusion.
His expression had been one of shock, but it changed to horror so fast that I was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. Then his features turned to rage, muscles in his arms flexing as his hands clenched, nails digging into his palms.
It was at this moment that Embry had decided would be the ideal time to return, completely oblivious to the tension. "Here are your last two cans of paint, ma'am." He stopped after placing the cans in the basket, finally taking in the tense atmosphere and the looks on our faces. "Everything okay here?"
"No, it's not," I scowled, pushing past him and backing the basket up so I could push it out the door and to the parking lot. "Because your freaky friend won't stop staring at me. Is this how you treat all your customers? It's a really shitty way to run a business."
I was gone and out the door before any of them could say a word, angry at myself and at the stupid situation that I was in, and cursing my terrible luck. Heaving everything into the empty truck bed, I climbed into the driver's seat faster than I believed was humanly possible. My fingers clenched harshly against the wheel and, almost against my control, my eyes shot back to take one last glance through the store windows. Paul and Embry had disappeared – only Quil was left with the little girl, staring at me with an unreadable expression.
My eyes shot away, and I swiftly pulled out of the spot and backed out onto the highway, headed for home.
oOo
Spending the better part of the day simmering with confusing frustration that seemed to come out of nowhere, I did my best to spend my time doing something productive instead of attempting to figure out what my emotions were trying to tell me. Lounging in the bathtub with my hair tied up and out of the way, I sunk down deeper into the bubbles, making sure to keep the tiny notebook and pen out of the water as I made a list of everything that still needed to be done in the next few days.
But I couldn't concentrate. For some reason, I was infuriated.
Grumbling a curse to myself, I tossed the pen and book onto the floor and forced myself to relax within the steaming water, breathing in the smell of the floral bubble bath and body wash. Breathe, I urged myself. Just breathe.
But it felt as if I couldn't breathe – as if my chest had decided to suddenly start restricting how much oxygen would go into my lungs.
I rested my head on the rim of the tub and took in a deep breath, wishing that a glass of red wine would suddenly appear in my hand to help calm my nerves. The chain around my neck rolled against my skin, the key dipping in and out of the bubbles. Absently, I tugged at it and let my eyes fall shut, hoping that holding onto the old keepsake would give me a bit of calmness and mental peace.
For half of a moment, I felt peace –
Until a knock came from the bathroom door.
The key fell out of my hands and back into place against my skin, momentarily forgotten. "Yeah?" I called out wearily.
"Just checking to make sure you haven't shriveled up and died or something," Isaac's muffled voice called out in response. "You've been in there for almost an hour. Are you coming out any time soon? Because I really have to use the bathroom."
I frowned and pinched the bridge of my nose, reaching over the side of the tub to grab my towel and rid my skin of the water and soap from my bath. "Yeah, I'm coming right now; just give me a second to get dried off." I did, ignoring the sound of him tapping his foot on the other side of the door. I snatched up my robe and tied it tightly around my waist.
"Are you okay?" Isaac asked immediately once I had opened the door and slid past him. "You've been acting weird ever since you practically went off on that guy in the hardware store."
"I'm fine," I replied, "but exhausted. I think I'm just going to go check on Thomas one last time then crawl into bed." He shrugged and made to move past me, but I grabbed his arm, effectively keeping him in place. "Are you okay? I'm surprised you aren't sleeping yet."
"I'm fine," he echoed my words. "I just…" He hesitated, glancing down at his bare feet. "I don't like this place. The people all look like they're using steroids, it's too cold and wet; it gets too dark at night and too quiet; it was always noisy back in D.C. – I'm not used to it. I just want to go back home."
I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, heart clenching in pain. "I know; I'm so sorry. I wish we were back home, too, and if I could turn back time and get us home again, I would do so in a heartbeat, but I can't."
"I know," he tugged his arm away. "It's no big deal; I guess it's just something I have to get used to, right?" With that, he shrugged my hand away from his shoulder and shut the bathroom door in my face.
I gave the door one last long glance as I left the hallway and headed to my room, quietly shutting the door before resting my back against it and sliding down to the floor. My head fell into my hands as I realized that the feeling of foreboding along with the loss of control had sent both Isaac and myself into a horrible downward spiral; our lives uprooted and changed because of a stupid decision.
Two days down, a million left to go.
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