Love Like This
Ch 12: Note to self: Close your blinds.
My mind is whirling so fast, when my head hit's the pillow, sleep is the farthest thing from it. My brow feels permanently wrinkled from worry. I make spit bubbles until I get bored of it (don't act like you don't do it, too. Its better than counting sheep) and decide to prepare a late night meal
I'm walking down the hallway towards the steps scratching a particularly itchy spot on my scalp when something shiny on the floor catches my eyes.
A shiny gold pendant. Engraved into its bronze surface is a fang, deeply embedded into a full moon. I pick it up and run my fingers over the surface. The metal somehow feels cold, too cold compared to the temperature of the rest of the house. Something about it stirs up a distant memory, distant as in before Forks, but I can't recall where I had last seen it. It sends a chill thrilling up and down my spine. "Creepy." I tuck it into my sweat pants pocket, thinking somehow it might be an important clue. Even through the material, I can still feel it's cold against my skin.
I clomp down the stairs into the kitchen. I open up all the cabinets and examine the contents. Nothing inside looks even slightly appetizing. My stomach growls unhappily. It STILL, for some reason, wants IHOP.
… Which happens to be open 24/7.
Jacob would definitely not approve of me going on a late night quest to the International House of Pancakes. And neither, I'm sure, would the cop appointed to keep an eye on me. No. NO. I will not pick up the keys temptingly adorned in the glass bowl on the counter. I will not get dressed in all black and sneak out of the house. And will not slip into the car, turn on the light, barely purring engine, and jet off to pancake heaven. I will NOT.
-Sob-
I pull down a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli, and begrudgingly dig through the drawers for the can opener. I clamp it on, and begin the perilous task of opening it.
WHY on earth wont Dad buy an automatic can opener? It's the 21st cent--
CRASH!
I jump and the can of ravioli goes flying out of my hand onto the ground. I whip around, and I hear the sound of glass being chipped onto the floor at the back of the house. I gently place down the can opener, my hands shaking, and press my hand to the circle switch that controls the light. Shrouded in darkness, I back slowly into the food pantry, closing it slowly and silently behind me. I hear footsteps approaching, and my breathing stops, my whole body tense. Two male voices, one of a deeper pitch than the other, arguing.
"--An idiot? Are you trying to Alert the whole Western Sea board? I bet the girl heard that. He wants us to bring her back alive, and as uninjured as possible. Now she probably heard us and we'll have to clomp her over the head to get her to be still," the lower of the voices goes.
"You didn't tell me NOT to do it. You said open the door."
"Exactly jackass. Figure out a way to OPEN the door. Not send you steel-toed foot through it. Now quickly, get your ass upstairs before she has the chance to make the great escape. I'll stay by the stairs in case she makes her way…."
The voices trails off as they reach the living room.
I exhale. I have to get out before they realize I'm not upstairs. And fast.
I slowly push open the doors and make my way across the kitchen to the door that leads to the basement. The terrifyingly squeaky door that would surely get me caught. I consider my options.
1) Risk-opening-the-squeaky-door-and-hoping-I'm-fast-enough-to-escape-through-the-attic-doors-to-run-to-the-presumed-safety-of-the-police-officer-outside.
…OR!
2) Stupidly standing here until they finish searching upstairs and come down here to find me.
Uh, yeah. This decision is pretty easy. I stupidly stand there--
No. That was a joke.
No time for joking.
Oh, that's right.
"She's not up here!"
"What do you mean she's not up there you idiot! She went to bed hours ago. You saw her with your own eyes. Check the closets…" Footsteps running quickly up the steps.
Note to self: Close your blinds.
I seize the opportunity and quickly yank open the door. The squeak rings clearly through the house and I thunder down the stairs, any hope of going unnoticed banished. In the basement, I trip over a carton of pictures and stumble to the door. I push, putting all my strength into it, to no avail.
Shit.
I look around for an alternate route, and a window catches my eyes. Under it is a stack of cartons of pictures. I hop on them, and lift open the window. I hear the door slam into the wall, and my body is halfway out when a hand grips at my ankle.
"She's down here, Bud!" The higher of the two voices yells. "I got her!"
At first my muscles tense like a deer in headlights. Then, my survival instincts kick in and in a rush of adrenaline, I kick until my foot meets bone with a sickeningly loud crunch. I pull myself out, my strength renewed and more abundant than ever.
"She's getting away..!"
I dart around the house in the rain to the cop car, where I yell and slap at the window. The cop, although he at first he looks asleep, is slumped over in the seat, his head bent at an odd angle. My hands drop and I back slowly away from the car. Behind me, the house door slams open and a thick, short man comes rumbling out, cursing. From the uninjured state of his face, one could only presume that he was the one with the lower pitched voice, Bud.
I don't stick around long enough to examine his facial features.
I shoot of like a light, across the street and through the forest, running faster than in any race I've ever been in before and hoping its fast enough. Branches and debris barely slow me down, and surprisingly, I don't trip, slip, or fall at all. I run until I'm sure I'm safe, and my lungs ache and burn from lack of oxygen. I stop and double over, panting, my heart beating fast and hard. The adrenaline rush leaves me, and combined with the lack of food and proper sleep, makes me feel completely and utterly drained.
"You lost him about a mile and a half ago. You're super fast for a human. It's pretty cool."
I snap up, alarmed, but I don't have to strengths to move a muscle and almost collapse. My head whips around but there is no one. At least no one I could see in the near pitch dark. "Who are you-"
I whirl around and BOOM. I clutch at my heart. A tall, gangly boy, with dark hair stands before me.
"Don't worry," he says quickly at my horrified expression. "I'm with Jake. I'm Seth Clearwater."
"Why are you guys.." -pant, pant- "always doing that?"
"Huh? Hey are you alright…"
My body fails me and I fall not-so-delicately into Seth's arms. He catches me and hefts me up.
"Don't worry, I got you."
His hands burn like embers on my wet skin. "So you really are one of Jakes friends."
He grins widely. "Yup. Nice to meet you Alicia. Don't tell Jake I told you so cause I don't want him to thing I'm digging his chick, but you are way prettier than Sam made you out to be." He smiles big again.
"Er, thanks." My throat is dry and burning, and my voice tells all. He one arms me, and uses his other hand to check my temperature.
"Geez Alicia. Even I can tell you're burning up. Lets get you inside." He begins to walk with me safely tucked into his arms.
"What about.." I old man cough (if you have a grandpa then you know what I mean; you know, when they cough so hard it sounds like they are going to die, or vomit?) before speaking again, "Jacob?"
"Him, Sam and the others are rounding up your pursuers. Probably interrogating them right about now. Wouldn't let me come..." He looks temporarily down, but perks right back up. "But I'm glad I finally got to meet you. I heard so much about you from Jake's head."
"What?"
"Long story, don't worry about it. I'm going to get you to Sam's so you can get some proper rest."
"But-"
"Ssh, don't talk. Your vocal cords will crack in half and I'll be hanged. We're almost there. You ran pretty far, and in the right direction."
---
I try to stay awake long enough to wait for Jake, but I slip into a feverish and fitful sleep only moments after my head hit's the pillow. I wake up, in what feels like seconds later, too see Jacob wringing a sponge in a bucket, his brow wrinkled with worry.
"Jake," I croak.
He looks up and breathes a sigh of relief, cracking one of his adorable half smiles. He applies the cold sponge to my head. "Your temperature finally went down. I'm glad."
"When did you get back--"
"Don't talk. You sound horrible."
"Thank you for your honesty."
"You can count on it. How are you feeling?"
"Like crap."
"As to be expected. Hungry?"
"Exponentially. How long have I been out?"
"About 13 hours."
"Feels more like 13 seconds…"
He smiles. "You can go back to sleep, as soon as you get some food in your system."
"Agreed."
He drops the sponge into the bucket, and stares down at it, crestfallen.
"Jake what's wrong--"
"I shouldn't have left you alone. No matter what you said. You being put in danger was my fault."
"You're wrong. I told you to leave. You can't blame that on yourself--"
"I thought it would be safe with us right across the way patrolling the forest. But it wasn't enough." He sighs and runs his hands through his hair."
"Hey. Hey…" I say softly and advance towards him. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. "Its no ones fault. We couldn't have predicted something like this anyway. Hell, it was kinda fun kicking that guys nose in."
"Yeah, I saw. Good work."
"So you caught them?"
"How could we not?"
Oh yeah, the whole super abilities thing.
"What's the word?
He sighs, and the hair in his face flies up. "Nothing really. They were just a bunch of small time criminals that got hired to do a job. They were told to kidnap you, bind you up, put you in box at the harbor and leave you there. To make sure you were alive."
"Geez. People sure do have a thing for kidnapping me."
"Someone is out to get you, Alicia."
I sigh. "I know.."
"We have to reel them in. To stop them."
"I also know that."
He huffs and runs his hands though his hair again.
"Aye. Cut that out. I'm sure everything will be fine."
NOT.
(A/N: Finally, chapter 12. The reason this chapter took so very long is because chapter 13 and 14, along with the rest of LLT and my stories, where deleted from my computer by my ever persistently evil stepmomther. Hardy, har har. She thinks they slow down the internet -_- Anyway, review. It would be greatly appreciated. And sorry about the uber long wait. This chapter is nothing like my original one, but wether its better or worse, I cant say. Sigh. Im still mourning the loss of my great, and not so great, works. Ty
Yonnabelle)
