Freak on a Leash

Chapter 3: Just You Wait Esme Cullen

All right then. New chapter. Please enjoy. Thanks to all the readers who are leaving me comments. And to everyone who doesn't: please do, I am always looking for opinions. And to steal Runa's line: I write to improve, not improve my ego...or something along those lines.

I tried a little harder to double check my spelling this time. Eventually I'll get it right.

xxx

I was furious. And Esme was blocking my way to freedom.

"You are taking a shower and if you don't come out several layers of dirt lighter, I'm coming in there with you." She put her hands on her hips and glared at me.

I never had a good parental experience. Most of the foster parents I got stuck with in Miami really didn't care and let me do what I wanted to. Maybe if they had cared I wouldn't be a vamire now. But as it were, I now had to deal with someone taking responsibility for me. Oh. Joy.

It seemed pretty pointless to do anything else at the moment, so I turned and strode into the shower-half of the bathroom. It was divided, so I could put a door between me and Mama Bear. It slammed nicely though.

What happened next was a stand-off between me and the shower. I will always have an issue with water and no amount of years has, or ever will change that.

I ended up sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run, and staring at my forlorn pile of clothes on the floor. After arguing with myself for the better part of thirty minutes, I got in and did exactly what was required. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to sit under the shower nozzle to get clean.

When I finally turned the water off I found a pile of neatly folded clothes and a soft towel. Well, I'm assuming it was soft because it looked that way. I'm not sure though. I think Esme had to scrounge for clothes for me because I was skinny when I was alive and during my pilgrimage across America had hit the point that I actually looked emaciated. But I'm tall, so I look more like Jack Skellington. The jeans were a little big but long enough, so I let them fall low and pulled the shirt on, grimacing at the strip of skin that grinned between the top of the jeans and the bottom of the shirt.

I rubbed my tangled hair with the towel as I warily opened the door. No Esme. My old clothes were gone too, my faithful Yankees hat nowhere to be seen. Needless to say, I lost it.

Who were these people to pull me into their make-believe? To treat me like a child?

I tore down the stairs, and paused for maybe a second to figure out where she was. Kitchen. Something in me was clawing at me insides...ready to unleash a bloodbath.

"Where is it?" My voice was a hiss in my ears that I barely knew.

Esme looked at me, non-plussed, as did Emmett, who was standing by the sink. Her face went from pleasantly calm to completely blank and I saw Emmett shift his weight foward.

"Where is what?" She sounded like she was intentionally trying to slide the confrontation to the side . Which really only succeeded in making me more angry.

The world was tinted with a crimson haze.

"My hat. Where is it?" I took a prowling step foward and something wicked in the back of my mind woke up.

Monster. You're an aninmal. Look at you. Ready to kill. Over a HAT! It was mocking, laughing, fueling my temper.

"Jack, I told you it had to go-" She wasn't giving any and her dark eyes flashed a warning.

"It was mine! I didn't give it to you! I didn't say that I didn't want it. I-" My voice rose in volume and I could feel that I was on the edge of hysterics. Until the water hit me.

It wasn't cold next to my icy skin, but I could feel it. And I was drenched. But it felt the same, sliding across my body, ready to flood me. Irrational, panicked fear replaced all of my anger and I froze, like a macabre statue. Drowned Girl. Yeah, that sounds good.

"Nicely handled Emmett." Esme's voice sounded far away, but scolding. I must have closed my eyes because the world was black.

"What was I supposed to do?!" Emmett, now. Defensive. For trying to protect his "mother."

My throat had closed. And the rest of my body seemed to have shut down. My lungs. My heart. What was /wrong/ with me? Am I just a pretend character that didn't get closed into it's book?

Finally something registered. The exhaustive fear. I slid down the counter, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my head. Water dripped onto the floor.

"Jack?" Esme's hand touched my arm, gentle, comforting. I jerked away.

"Don't touch me." My voice sounded funny to me. It wasn't mine. It was too emotional. That couldn't be me. I wasn't that vulnerable.

Esme just stood at my shoulder, completely unsure of what to do with this surly teenager. She moved away and I breathed in, inhaling all the smells I could. Hands pried my arms away from my head and pulled me to my feet. I opened my eyes and leaned back against the counter, not responding to Emmett's bear-paw hands on my shoulders.

"You're so much prettier without that protective layer of grime." He was trying to make me smile. I simply stared at him with blank eyes and heard Esme.

"Emmett you owe her an apology, not a joke." But she had smiled, so no one was really angry.

"I fell into a sink hole when I was a kid. I almost drowned." My voice still wasn't mine. He pulled back, surprised, all of his lighthearted words drowned in my fear.

"Jack...I'm sorry..." He looked like he was going to try and hug me, so I ducked away.

Sometimes you just can't kiss it and make it better.