Chapter One - The Past
Disclaimer: I do not own any Darkest Powers related characters or plot-lines.
*This chapter contains flashbacks
CPOV:
*I wake up in a cold sweat, legs tangled in the off - white, dingy motel bed sheets, near the edge of the twin sized bed. I blinked rapidly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness, taking in the plain walls and matching furniture in the room. As my senses finally returned to me, I turned to look towards the figure to the left side of the bed, the person who'd shaken me awake. "Chlo! Are you okay?" Derek asked, his brow furrowed, vaguely concealed worry and love in his eyes only noticeable to someone who has spent time learning to translate 'disgruntled werewolf'. "Yeah. Just a dream I guess." I responded, "A very realistic dream.". I shifted on the bed so I was facing Derek, untangling my wayward limbs from the sheets before taking his hand in mine, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. "Must have been intense, I heard your heartbeat increase from across the room, and you were moving a lot…" Ah. So that's why he woke me, and why he looks so concerned. Derek was incredibly protective of family, Tori included these days, but was specifically defensive and protective of me these days as his wolf considers me his chosen mate. My small stature and lack of reliable offensive abilities added to this disposition, not to mention our run in's with Liam and Ramon. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of her delicate, pale hand. "It's about my dad. Just memories really, all the times he took me to the park, or the time he set up a drive-in in the backyard with a bed sheet and we spent the day watching action movies." I stopped to wipe my face with the back of my hand. "I miss him. I hate knowing that i'm worrying him like this, n-not being able t-to see him." I finished with a slight wobble in my voice. Derek hummed, voice a deep rumble, and shifted closer to me on the bed, eventually moving to lie down next to me and pull me into his strong arms. "Go to sleep Chlo, it'll be a new day tomorrow." he said softly, holding me close. Little did I know.*
It's been 3 years since that night. I hated remembering it, like watching a play by play of my last good moments, the calm before the storm if you will.
The following hours, days really, were some of my worst.
*As I lay in Derek's arms, watching him drift peacefully, I left my thoughts roam. I was calm enough after talking with my resident werewolf, comforting as he always was in a way only I was privy to. But the longer I lay staring at the ceiling thinking back on my dream, the longer I itched to do something about it. Could I though? Maybe it wasn't so much whether I could as whether or not I should. I wanted so desperately to see my father, especially knowing this motel was only a few blocks away from my house, where I knew him to be. If I could only see him, reassure him I was alive and well for the most part, give him enough answers to satisfy without being compromising, I might even be able to convince him to lift the reward on my head. There was only one problem with my plan. Derek and the others would never allow it. Mr. Bae, or Kit as he'd asked me to call him, was very clear in saying we needed to stay together, and that going to see my dad was too risky for everyone involved. Then there was Derek, who would most assuredly never support this plan, especially if he perceived it as a threat to my safety. It would have to be done without them knowing ahead of time. Of course, I would leave a message to let them know where I was going and when I expected to return, It's the least that I owe them. Don't get me wrong, I love Derek, and the others were like family, I never want to hurt them or worry them. But I would only be gone a short while, and this was for my dad, my family as well, and Derek, the others, even Aunt Lauren would just have to understand that. Decision made, I began the strenuous task of shimmying my way out of Derek's warm embrace, working my hardest to avoid any noise or movement that might set off his genetically advanced senses as I worked my way to the end of the bed. I paused in my advance, glancing back as he snuffed and shifted in my absence, before exhaling as he settled back into a deep sleep. It was never easy to escape the grasp of a overprotective, paranoid werewolf boyfriend and evade his unbelievable sense of smell and instinct. I deserve an award for this. I tiptoed my way carefully across the dark, worn out wooden floor boards, palms sweating and knees trembling as I worked to keep my heartbeat steady to avoid detection. I was trying my very best to keep from tripping over air in response to my horrifying clumsiness. When an old decaying floor board creaked under my weight I cringed as the noise violently broke the silence, my knees became weak. Flinching, my eyes flew back to the bed before relaxing once more at the obviously sleeping lump still residing there. I grabbed the biggest hoodie I could find in our common space, specifically choosing the black one Derek lent me as it seemed the most inconspicuous. I slipped on my warn in running shoes, grabbed a granola bar and a key card and before slipping out quietly, closing the door slowly and silently behind me.*
I hurried into the motel living room area, writing out a brief but expressive note detailing where I was headed and explaining that for my own sanity and my father's well - being I needed to do this. I needed to see him and at least let him know I was okay.
I shook my head to dispel the flashback as I busied myself by grabbing another packed cardboard box out of the back of the truck, storming up the porch steps and into the front hall of my condo. I wasn't that girl anymore, I stubbornly told myself, I didn't need to creep around in the night or allow someone else to make decisions for me.
I trudged up the stairs and into my room, depositing the box full of possessions on the bed. This was home now, at least for a little while, and there would be no room here for emotions or glimpses of hotel beds from the past if I wanted to remain here longer than the last place,
I was 19 now, and going by the name Chloe Xavier, chances are nobody from my past would recognize me these days anyways.
I walked into the clean, bland bathroom that adjoined to the bedroom to splash some water in my face. I exhaled deeply, looking up into the mirror and seeing my own cerulean blue eyes staring back. I studied myself, looking for any hint of that young girl.
My face had thinned, losing baby fat and allowing my features a sharper, more feminine quality, I followed my high cheekbones towards my arched blonde eyebrows and into my hair. I was long since back to being blonde, my sun kissed curls falling mid back, contrasting nicely with my porcelain skin tone.
But no matter how cold they seemed, how long it has been since they had seen a peaceful nights rest, or how confident an act I play, it was just that. An act. Because my blue eyes would always be just the same. They showed of thinly veiled secrets, anxiety and pain, of a young woman who had seen too much death, fear, and destruction for a lifetime.
Who had watched everyone walk away in one way or another.
*My feet hit the sidewalk in a staccato rhythm as I walked briskly towards my destination. Head down, hood up, I stayed out of street lights and did my very best to remain an anonymous figure in the night. I had already been walking for half an hour and was only a mere block away from the house now. It was so strange to consider, it had only been 6 months or so since I was there last and yet, it seemed such a foreign place to me. Throughout this whole radical new plot I had never really stopped to look at how much had changed. What did my old friends think became of me, that I was just shipped off one day no questions asked? After so long on the run, living in alleys, scrounging for food, a home sounded so fantastical to me. It was ironic really, that my old life was the one that seemed so supernatural to me now. Coming back from these thoughts, I looked up at a familiar stretch of houses, reading the street sign labeled 'McKinnon Ave.' that marked my old neighbourhood. Speeding up my steps until I was staring up at the large house that was once my safest refuge. I stole a breath, running my hand through my hair. There it was, white - grey bricks holding strong, the roof casting dark shadows, I noticed the porch swing was much the same, garden well maintained, as I came to stop in front of the red front door. Strange. I had changed so much, I had only assumed everything else had as well but it was the same in every aspect. Fist poised to knock, I rapped on the door lightly, awaiting a response. After a minute of no reaction I went to try the handle only to find the lock broken, the door easily pushed open, My heart stopped. Blood pumping, head pounding and pulse suddenly racing I made my way inside quickly, taking in the mess. Picture frames were crooked on the wall, rug disheveled, lamp smashed and scattered on the floor. "Dad?!" I shouted desperately, breaking into a run as I searched the main floor coming up empty handed. When I received no reply I made my way quickly up the stairs, yelling "Dad!" As I went, hoping for some sort of response. After searching the bedrooms and finding them much the same as downstairs, I came to a stop in front of my dad's office. "Please no." I whispered softly to myself, already pushing the door open with my left hand as my right one clenched into a closed fist. "Oh. God no please!" I cried, processing the scene in front of me. With the ceiling light still on, I had a vivid picture before me. There, across the room and behind the heavy and traditional looking wooden desk that was covered in scattered papers, sat my father. He almost looked normal, hands laid on the armrest of the plush office chair which was facing the still open window, curtains billowing in the night breeze. The only difference was the grotesque, bloody, gaping line drawn across my father's neck, his white dress shirt stained with the crimson life force that spilled from the wound. His eyes were rolled back in his head, as if in his last moments h had looked towards the heavens. My sobs were startling in the silence, as I ran back into the hallway to retch on the carpet floor. My vision blurred with the tears and I gripped the door frame just to stay standing as my legs felt numb. One quick glance back at the disarray of my father's office and his lifeless corpse was all that it took to remember my abilities with death, imagining all the horrifying possibilities regarding my proximity to my- to the body. As quick as I had come I left, flying down the stairs, stumbling through the mess of debris and displaced furniture and straight out the front door. Sprinting down the sidewalk in the same direction I came from, losing all shot at subtlety and secrecy as my feet hit the pavement and my hair whipped around my face. My mind was racing at speeds too fast to process anything logically, and I couldn't begin to comprehend how to work through this. I knew I was headed back to the hotel but already I knew that words would escape me when it came time to explain. Finally reaching the motel door I frantically searched my pockets for the key card before pushing the dark green door open with a bang as it flew into the wall. Rushing inside, I threw the sweater on the table just inside the door before beginning to pace sporadically in the small space. Once again I paused mid - step. Taking a sudden look around me I noticed the lack of obstacles in my way, of clothes strewn on the floor and shoes in the entryway. I see the note I had left on the side table now on the floor by the exit, and a wave of dread washed over me. A few quick steps and I was standing in the door frame of the now vacant bedroom, sheets in a tangled heap on the beds, bags gone, completely cleared out. I crashed. Excruciating pain and emptiness filled me as I fell to my knees, pulling at my hair as I squeezed my eyes shut. I was truly alone this time. Nowhere to run to, no one to hold me. They left in the night. Even 'Him'. All of them just. Gone.*
I sighed, leaning against the cool porcelain sink as I gathered myself. You see, eyes that knew sights like those, pain and anguish, complete and total loneliness.
Eyes like those never change,
The wounds never heal.