Chapter 2 – Freedom

It was 11am. It had taken me an hour to pull myself together, drag myself off the floor and get out the room. But I had managed it, to my surprise. Walking in to the kitchen, I raided the pantry for anything fattening, and emerged with pancake batter. It was perfect; full of fat, sugary and also gave me a feel good mood afterwards. Or maybe it was just the artificial colours found in food dye. Either way, I didn't really care.

I went a little crazy whilst cooking; I kept losing track of my thoughts and constantly found myself dwelling on vampires and countdowns. Before I knew it, I had more sugar than pancake mix in the bowl and the food dye bottles were empty. I looked down at my creation: the swirls of different shades of purple were mesmerizing.

10 minutes later vibrant purple pancakes that were cooked to perfection were being shoved down my throat before they reached the plate. They seared my stomach, but they tasted so good. I hadn't been eating well lately, normally only having breakfast; there was just something about reliving nightmares that left a sick feeling in my stomach. Today, though, I felt strangely... not sick. And strangely upbeat.

I mean, shouldn't I be more upset? I had one less day to live. Maybe I had finally cracked from the pressure. Maybe I was officially insane; not an exciting prospect.

But as my brother made his way into the kitchen, unlocking the windows and doors, I remembered; today I was finally released from confinement.

After the accident, my brother had been more than little paranoid. He had been adamant that I would not be leaving the house until I was 200% healthy. I had been utterly mortified to find myself let out of hospital, only to discover Matt wasn't going to let me out the house. Despite my numerous insistences of 'I'm fine', and more than one shouted argument, I had been unable to sway him.

Hence the fact that I hadn't left the house in over a week. But today; today I was free.

Today, after more than a month restricted to the hospital, and then my house, I was officially free.

Finally.

I couldn't hide my grin as he came into the kitchen; he responded with a distrustful look and a sigh. I knew what that expression meant; it meant he was bitterly regretting leaving me to my own devices. He was always so trusting; not.

Matt. I loved him like crazy of course. He was 2 years older than me at 19, and never let me forget it. He took his role as the older brother very seriously; too seriously, in my opinion. I think part of it was because we never knew our dad, and he felt he had to make up for that; through from what mum had said about our father, I thought it was probably best we hadn't known him.

Mum. My smile fell away the instant she flittered into my mind. God, I missed her; missed her more with every passing day.

It had been two years since we'd lost her to pneumonia. Two long years, trying to recover. To this day, I still felt the familiar stabbing pain of her absence; I knew that would stay with me always. After that, we had moved in with mum's sister; Aunt Karen. But then she, too, had died. Another family member gone. Another spot of sadness I couldn't seem to escape.

I had been born on the Quileute reservation, La Push, and had lived there until I was 8. Then mum had decided it was time to leave, and we had started our new lives in Seattle. It wasn't far from La Push, but it was a big city, and mum had family there. Or used to have family there. I had liked Seattle; had liked my friends, my life.

But it was just me and Matt now, right where we started. The same house too. I supposed that was why it was so familiar. The house was small and quaint, but I liked it. It felt like home; despite the fact that we had been here for less than two weeks. Permanently, at least. Matt had visited and stayed here several times over the last few years, ever since he had first phased.

Yeah, that had been a shock. To me, at least. Mum had expected it, but I certainly hadn't. To say my life had taken a turn for the interesting was an understatement. It had taken a while to adjust to the fact that my brother could shape-shift into a super-sized wolf. At first I had been worried about how things would change between us; at how being a wolf would change him. But to my surprise, over the last 2 and a bit years since his phasing, we had only grown closer.

And so it was with excitement that contradicted his slight worry that I happily walked over to him, gave him a hug, and raced upstairs. Though despite my happiness, I couldn't help but reflect on how there was no way I'd be allowed out of the house if he knew the truth; knew that a vampire was after me.

But I couldn't tell him. They say curiosity killed the cat; that was what I was. I suppose the mouse, quiet and hidden in the background, got to live. But while the cat may not live forever, the mouse does not live at all.

I would not be a mouse; I would not consent to being locked away from the world, whether or not my life was in danger. I would much rather live, and be free, for however a short a period, than suffer in a cage of any form.

Right now, I was free. And I was going to make the most of it.

Except for, of course, he growing and alarming list of issues that were facing me.

1. I had nothing to wear.

2. Though I knew names of people from Matt, I hadn't met anyone, so I had no friends.

3. I had nowhere to go.

4. I had nothing to do.

I stopped there, not wanting to complete the list. It would only make me more depressed. But despite everything, 15 minutes later I was emerging from the bathroom hopeful. The shower had relieved me of tension for once, and I had found myself enjoying the process. It was kind of like a shadow had been lifted off me; like a weight that had been on my shoulders had decreased. I hadn't realised how much effect lock down had had on me.

My anticipation building, I dressed quickly, simple in shorts and a yellow sweater. Dashing back into the bathroom, I perched on the bench in front of the mirror as I ran a brush through my hair, noting the familiar gleam of a silver chain on my neck. Fingering the polished silver, I gripped lightly the carved wooden figurine of a wolf that I wore around my neck; it was something I never took off. A gift from my mother, from some distant ancestor of hers, it was a treasured possession; so much so that I never went anywhere without it.

Giving myself a sad smile, I shook my head to clear it of the sudden sadness. Happy thoughts, I told myself. Today was a good day.


In a matter of seconds I was out the front door, inhaling the fresh scent of the forest and last night's rain. I loved winter; I loved the cold and the wet. One of things that had absolutely killed me this last week had been not being able to dance in the rain. But that was about to change.

Leaping down the steps leading from our porch, I collapsed in a pile, watching dreamily the leaves I sent flying. I jumped up, spinning round in circles on the spot, staring upwards. Watching the clouds and trees melt into a multi-coloured blur, I was happy. For the first time in a month I was out of the house, and it didn't matter that a vampire was after me. The sugar I had consumed for breakfast must have caught up. My laughter was loud and gleeful as it rung across the lawn.

Preoccupied in my joy, I did not notice my brother had come out the house and was leaning against the wall, watching me, clad as usual in simple cut offs. A smile was on his lips as he struggled to contain his amusement. Rapidly stopping, I turned to glare accusingly at him, breaking through his so called perfect control. Collapsing into fits of booming laughter, he was bent over double, clutching his stomach. I grinned idiotically.

You would think, being a werewolf, he would have lost his sense of humour to the severity of his duty, or would have least learned to control his temper; I had to yet to notice any change, for which I was glad. I had worried, now that he was my legal guardian, that we would lose our camaraderie; instead, we were close than ever. He had always looked after me; the only difference now was that it was official.

Deciding I had looked stupid enough for now, I turned my back on him, stalking across the lawn before I realised I didn't know where I was going. I jumped as Matt's hand grasped my shoulder turning me around to face him. His eyes were smouldering as he addressed me.

'Please, please, don't do anything too stupid. I can't follow you, I've got patrol. The rest of town is that way.'

Nodding, and with a parting embrace, I headed in the direction he had pointed out.


I spent a few hours wandering about town, visiting the only grocery store and not buying anything, looking through a souvenir shop and laying down on the beach staring up at the sky. I found the nearby forest calming, and all too soon I discovered myself drifting off to sleep. I relished in the sharp smell of salt that was in the air, inhaling it like a drug. Rolling over, I marvelled at the beauty of the sun glancing off the ocean, making everything around me shine.

Oh, how I had missed this. How I had missed the fresh air, the cool breeze, the faint sunlight. How I had missed the smells and sounds of the world around me. It was all too easy to forget my troubles, to forget my secrets, when it was like this.

After all, how I could possibly regret my decision, when freedom was so enthralling?

But while freedom was exactly as alluring as I'd imagined, freedom was also boring. I did not do well without a task at hand, without something to occupy me, and already I was fidgeting, bouncing and anxious for something to focus on.

And not entirely unexpectedly, I found relief in the trees.

As a child, I had been an adventurer. With no thought for the danger or the sense, I had thrown myself head first into every situation.

And so when I came across the majestic and towering trunk of a tree bordering the beach, 17 years of reckless exploration suddenly kicked in.

I couldn't stop myself from running my hands over the rough bark, breathing in the intoxicating woodsy scent that I had always been drawn to.

And I couldn't stop myself from positioning my hands on the lower most branches and hauling myself upwards.

It was too easy; it was as if my last climb had only ben yesterday. Years of practice and precision was flooding back to me, as I easily found handholds and footholds to aid my ascent. A glance over my shoulder at 7 metre drop didn't make my stomach roll, but instead left me marvelling at how lovely and luscious the forests undergrowth looked from above.

And then, too soon, it was over.

10 metres up with my back against the trunk, I was staring out into the ocean, sucking in lungful's of the briny air.

Home. This felt like home. This was familiar, comforting, ensnaring. I was consumed by the rush.

So much so that I didn't hear the tell-tale cracks and rustles of leaves that signalled someone's approach. I didn't see the tall Quileute man that emerged from the trees, clad only in cut offs.

And I had no warning whatsoever before he suddenly shouted up at me.

'Hey, girl in the tree!'

I felt like I jumped 10 feet into the air; who knew, maybe I did jump 10 feet into the air.

All I knew was that I had jumped, and I had spun, and suddenly there was nothing beneath my feet.

There was no branch. No tree trunk. Nothing to grab onto.

There was only air, rushing furiously passed me as I fell, tearing at my clothes, filling my ears with its roar. I felt the sharp twinges of twigs and thin branches as I crashed through them, doing nothing to slow my fall, but only adding to my confusion.

Then there was the ground. The ground was rushing up to meet me, but I couldn't seem to process it. I was still reeling, still in shock from the sudden appearance of the man, and the sudden disappearance of the branch that had keeping me safe. I watched slowly, distantly, distractedly, as I got closer and closer to the hard earth.

Until all of a sudden, I was slamming into it.