A/N: So this chapter... is scary. And a bit controversial. But this is life and I'd like to think that this whole story is about Kim facing her issues with Jared... No, not with Jared but as in him being there by her side. Okay? And there's some stuff that needed to be addressed. Remember Mystery Woman? PS: there's a lot of violence... so be warned. Read and reveiw please? Thank you :)
I disclaim, by the way.
KPOV
I paced up and down the hall, listening, looking. There was no one there. Max followed at my heels, pacing with me. He was was worried about Jared's absence as well. A car pulled into the driveway and it wasn't Jared's, Sam's or Paul's. But it was a long black one. That held two passengers. Oh boy. There was too much going on inside of my brain. Every other thought was Jared, Jared, Dad, Mystery Person, Jared, Dinner, Dad, Jared, vampires, Jared, wolves, Mystery Person, Jared, and back again.
Two doors shut. Two sets of legs made their way up the porch. Two knocks on the door. Deep breathe.
"Hi Dad," I smiled and kissed his smooth after-shave smelling cheek. Which was oddly comforting.
"Hi Hon - " But he didn't get to finish because something was attacking his leg. Something small and furry and emitting little intimidating sounds as he did it.
"Hey! Stop that. Maximus!" Good dog. I detached Max from my Dad's leg and tapped his nose. "Don't do that!"
"What the hell is that?!"
"It's a puppy. And he's just doing his job. Isn't he cute?"
"Yeah, sure. Does he have a crate?" I sighed and shooed Max up the stairs, closing the gate to the stairs, closing off his exit. I could expect to wash my sheets tonight... and my carpet. Dad was never one for animals.
"Let me take your coats." I realized that didn't even look at her yet. She was hidden behind my Dad, completely veiled. I could practically smell the bitch coming off of her in waves. She was medium height, bleached blonde hair, pretty top, dress pants, and pointy shoes. Heavy blue makeup, one inch nails, sharp angular face, sharp nose and botoxed lips. Ew.
"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Kim."
"Hi, I'm Vicky, so nice to finally meet you." She talked too slow, like her lips couldn't keep up with her brain... or the other way around. We shook hands and hers felt like dry paper in mine. Ew. My mother's hands were always soft. Calloused, but soft.
"Could I get you anything to drink?"
"I'd love a martini, dry no olive." Who the hell did she think I was? The fucking bartender? Ordering me around like she owned the damn place.
"My usual Kim-bean." Dad always started the night with Bacardi on the rocks.
"Alright, there are starters on the table." I made my way into the kitchen and started mixing the drinks. How the hell was I going to make it through this? I wanted to put her on a platform and pick her to pieces. I wanted to put her right next to my mom just to see how many worlds apart they were. I shook my head on put on my party smile.
"These are great Kim-bean!" Dad smiled at me through a mouthful of crab cake as I handed him his drink.
"Thanks. They were fairly easy to make."
"You made these?" Vicky asked surprised.
"Yes, why?" I couldn't keep the tone out of my voice.
"They're... good. Really good." Her left eye twitched. Not a lot, just a little to let me know she was lying. How dare she? Lying to me in my own home, and so obviously?
"Thank you," I said tight lipped, radiating ice through my eyes. "Are you guys ready for salad?"
"Yes, that'd be nice, Kim." Her voice was ugly and nasally. I walked into the kitchen quickly, trying very hard to keep my cool. Yes, the feelings that Jared brought with him were real. And I loved the affection and the joy and the happiness but this was anger. And it wasn't like before that I could just ignore it. I felt it. And it was infuriating. It was real. And real emotions are ten times worse than the muted ones.
I violently mixed the salad, taking my frustrations out on the stupid lettuce. But then I heard something. And not just the microwave beeping or something stupid. I heard something that made your chest cavity constrict with panic. It was the howl of a wolf. A loud, terrifying howl. I dropped the salad forks and listened again. But there was nothing but a small amount of chatter from the dining room. I walked quickly into the foyer and onto the front porch. It was a stupid idea but I needed to see, needed to distinguish, what I heard. But there was nothing. Just the soft patter of rain and the wind in the trees. The trees that were hiding what I wanted to know.
Where was my Jared? I stood on the porch, shaking. There was a rustle in the trees, but it was gone by the time I looked hard enough. My heart was beating out of control.
There are times when there is something scary, maybe even terrifying, that's going to happen. Something that is out of your control and out of your power. But you know it's going to happen. Other times you have no idea what's going on. Those are the scariest. There's no way to prepare for what may or may not take place right in front of your eyes.
I should've gone inside. Should've let Jared and the rest of the small pack worry about it. But something was standing in my way. I couldn't look away from the trees. And if I had, I would've missed it. There was a distinct white blur. And there was a distinct brown blur. And they were mingled. For only a second, they were right in front of my eyes, just in front of where the tree line met the front yard. Only fifty feet away. There was a snap of jaws and a scrape, like metal against metal, and then they were gone. Right back into the tree-line like nothing happened. There was no trace of them being there; no marks on the grass, no broken branches.
I didn't realize how long I'd been standing out there. But apparently it was a while because one second I was staring at the trees and the next Dad was standing in front of me.
"Kim-bean?"
"I - uh... sorry. I'll be right there."
"You okay?"
"Uhm, yeah... I just thought I saw something." I walked into the house, my legs still shaky and my hands still quivering. But I didn't have time to think because I had company. I had a dinner to serve. I just had to get through this and then I would be able to worry all I wanted. I put the salad out on my mother's finest china and moved on to dinner quickly. I didn't even care about Vicky anymore. I didn't care about it or her or the situation. I just wanted my Jared.
I had no choice but to put time in between dinner and dessert. My leg wouldn't stop shaking and my eyes kept winding up at the window.
"Kim?" I mean, what if I just saw one thing? Just a muzzle or a tail. Something to let me know that he was okay.
"...Kim?" It might even be better if one of them howled again.
"Kim!" Well that brought me back to planet Earth.
"Yes?"
"Are you okay? Is there something outside that you want me to look at? You keep staring at the window..."
"I uh... no, no there's nothing."
"Why don't you show Vicky around? I have to make a call."
"Okay," I said a little faintly. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate on what could be happening outside. I moved my chair out quickly and set my napkin on the table. "We'll start in the den." Vicky followed me out, her sharp heels clacking loudly on the hardwood floor.
"You have beautiful floors."
"Thank you. My mother loved contrast. Dark wood floors, soft colored walls."
"What's this?" She pointed to the statue of a mother and a child, made from mango wood, just like the floors.
"It was her first statue."
"It's... beautiful... " She didn't mean that. You could practically hear it her voice. She was being polite, yes, but she was a horrible liar. "And the painting above the recliner?"
"Hers as well. It's the garden outside in summer... but if you look hard enough, there's a brighter light about it. Like in the winter. It was her way of confusing everyone. She loved mystery." I don't know why I had felt compelled to tell her that. Maybe it was just to show her that if she planned on taking her relationship with my father seriously that she had some huge, insightful shoes to fill.
"Oh really?" She didn't understand. She was fake. "Now that is just plain ugly," she said with disdain, gesturing at the vase my mother painted sitting on the armoire.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean look at it. It's painted with those awful colors. Not pretty at all." Resist. The. Urge. To. Kill.
"Not all art is supposed to be 'pretty'. Art conveys feeling. She painted that after my grandfather died. In between fall and winter, when everything is dead and not covered in snow, so it's barren. It has it's own beauty." There. That was nice, right?
"Oh, well, I don't like it." Thanks for your input, oh ye wonderful world class art scouter.
"Let me show you the studio. That has all of her good work in it." I turned back towards the stairs and ascended quickly, stealing glances at every open window I could. There was nothing.
"What an odd door." I ignored her even though I had so much to say.
"Her best work, in my opinion, is organized on the right." The huge studio was covered in paintings, sculptures, photos, multi-media projects, canvases, paints, and supplies.
"Well, it certainly isn't very organized."
"An artist doesn't need to be organized; they work better in chaos. Organization doesn't inspire."
"I can hardly walk."
"You're not supposed to walk, you're supposed to look."
"I don't see anything that I like." I tried, I really did, to keep myself under control. I had explained and I had countered every negative thing that she had said about my mother's work that was sold out in places as far as New York. I had pointed out perspective, and color, and shape, and composition and all of the things I was taught. And for her to ignore it? That was just the icing on the cake.
"If you don't like it, get out. You're not needed here if you can't appreciate someone who was obviously an important part of both mine and my father's life. I don't know your intentions but I suggest you rethink them because you have enormous, gorgeous shoes to fill. Not tacky, fake leather ones like yours. Now get out." Venom and ice; I still had it in me.
"Your food was distasteful and overcooked, you stupid little girl. Learn some manners." Oh now that was it. My arms shook, my neck strained. My tension was released in a loud smack that reverberated across the studio.
"Get out!" I roared. Literally, roared. Not screamed or yelled. I was a lion protecting my territory. She was in shock. The fake, ugly, plastic, slut was in shock. And there was a glaring red hand print glowing on her gross, wrinkly, cover-up slopped face. Her eyes were wild. She couldn't decide if she wanted to hit me back or if she wanted to run. Run, you stupid little bitch. Run, before I come after you.
She finally walked unsteadily out of the studio and straight down the stairs, out the front door, and out of my sight. But only a few seconds later my Dad was thundering up the stairs.
"Who in the hell do you think you are Kimberly Ann Morgan? What gives you the right, what gives you the audacity, to hit someone that you have just met as a guest?" he screamed and suddenly I couldn't think of an answer. My father hadn't ever screamed at me. I had been so emotion riddled and so pressured that I couldn't exactly give an answer.
"She insulted me and my mother in my house. Remember her? Remember Camilla? Your wife? She died! Do you remember that? Or has being a big-city sell out consumed all of your time?" I was done holding my tongue. I realized, a little too late, that this had noting to do with Vicky. This had to do with my mother, my father and I. There were things that needed to be said. And I wasn't going to hide anymore. I was done.
"You have no idea what it's like to want something. You have gotten everything you have ever asked for! How dare you tell me that I am selling out. I am working for you; for your life!"
"Oh really? Because last time I checked, you were the one who moved out and into Seattle before I even owned a horse! Before I took care of this house, before I cleaned, and cooked, and took care of the bills and raised myself for the last three years. Where the hell have you been? And your going to sit here and tell me 'How dare you?'. Well how dare you tell me the proper way to act! It's not like you ever taught me! It's not like you don't go on five vacations a year to places that make the French Riviera look like a motel. It's not like you don't live in a goddamn pent house in upper seattle. Good try, though. Telling m your working for me. You stupid, ignorant bastard." That was too far. That was way too far.
He was suddenly so close that I couldn't breath, couldn't prepare for what was coming.
"You disrespectful little bitch. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter." And with that, his hand came over the sides of my face, three times. His big, calloused hand, beating like a drum over my face. My hands came to shield me but they were just knocked away. And it was over as soon as it had started with the slam of the studio door. The stairs shook, the front door slammed, the car started, the doors closed, and the gravel crunched under the tires.
I moved my shaking hand to my face. My face that couldn't feel. I couldn't breathe. Something had just happened, something that wasn't finished. Something that I had started.
"Ow," I whispered into the empty studio as I pressed my fingers into the swollen side of my cheek. Deep breaths, don't cry; deep breaths, don't cry. Don't cry. Too late. And my mother wasn't here. She wasn't here wrapping herself around me when I needed her. The studio was cold and dry. My lungs couldn't warm the air, couldn't grab the oxygen fast enough. I couldn't feel. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
I stumbled numbly into my room. It was odd, this sensation. I couldn't feel anything, yet every nerve in my body was on fire; adrenaline kicking in a little too late. And then I could breathe just fine. Thank you reflex hormone. My thoughts moved so slowly still. I moved to the bed and collapsed. Sat bewildered and completely enlightened at the same time. I needed some direction, some inkling on what to do next. But I couldn't move.
"And I will try to fix you." - Coldplay, Fix You
JPOV
How could I have let this happen? How could I have been so stupid? Let him get so close to her house, to my Kim? Close enough that she saw something? Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was an idiot. I'd make it up to her. I'd - I'd... I didn't know what I was going to do. What I did was unforgivable. How could I have not realized that we were so close to the center of my world? I was focused so closely on killing, on destroying something that was threateneing my Kim that I didn't even realize the danger I had put her in. I was mentally killing myself. My head hurt so bad.
I didn't bother with the front door, opting for the open window. She was sitting on the bed, just sitting there. She didn't look up when I came to her side.
"Honey?" Now generally, that's a pet name, right? There should be no crying, right? Right?! But as soon as the words left my mouth she was sobbing. I walked to her side of the bed and turned the light on the night table on. And then I saw why she was crying. Both of her cheeks were bruised faintly, her eyes completely red. Her hands shook at her side.
Something started to build in me. Something that wasn't going to be able to be stopped when I let it loose. And I was going to let it loose. My body shook, shook so hard that the floors rattled.
"Wh - who did this to you?" I demanded. Her eyes were scared but her face was dead. "Answer me!" There was no time for this. I needed to kill, to tear apart the person that did this to her. I was going to watch as this person wished they were dead. That's what they would feel. They were going to wish they were dead. Buried ten feet under, when I was done with them. My Kim was done being hurt. I was tired of her being hurt. And whoever had hurt her was going to die. "Kim!" I shouted again. Her hands moved over her face.
" I - I...Ow," she whispered. The anger was still there, my God was it still there, but my heart broke, moving the anger aside a little and making room for sympathy.
"I - I'll deal with that tomorrow. T-Tell me what to do Kim. Tell me and I swear I'll do it. Tell me how to fix it. Tell me how to make it stop hurting." When will my Kim stop hurting? She didn't say anything, just reached for me. So I came. I came to her and I held her. I would hold her together until she was fixed.
I removed her shirt and replaced it with a comfortable one, undressed her, took her shoes off, unmade the bed and I held her.
"I love you." That wasn't what I had meant to say... but I wasn't embarrassed or surprised. "You don't have to say it back. But I want you to know. I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. For anything. I'll always love you and I'll never stop. I won't ever leave you. I promise. I promise so much that it hurts. Okay?" She nodded into my chest and that was all the conformation I needed. I was going to fix her. I was going to take all of this hurt and these broken pieces and I was going to put them back together. No matter how long it took. Because that's what you do when you love someone and they're hurt; you put them back together.
A/N: ... *hesitantly smiles* so? I'm TOTALLY against domestic violence but Kim's dad is a barbarian incapable of feeling or using his words. And he's a little like my dad so it's easy to write him. Kim is SO new to all of this that she went a little too far, obviously. Oh, and, if you haven't noticed, people change when put into different situations. I hate that. Noticed how Kim's dad was nice in front of his important client and now he's an ass? Constructive criticism only, no flaming, please. Thank You to all that reviewed/favorited/subscribed. REVIEW!