Chapter 12

(Jacob Black's Home)

"I'm okay, Dad." I say holding the black phone receiver to my ear in Jacob's living room. He's in his kitchen pouring me a cup of hot chocolate. "Tell me where." "In La Push, Dad. He's my only good friend of mine that I have left since your wife ruined my life." "Let's not use that tone." "What am I supposed to say, Dad? Shock therapy fried my brain. I have no brain cells."

I have none. I take a seat on the floor. "The problem will be solved." He responds with noises in the background. "It is no problem, Dad. I would like to enjoy the release that I have from the woman who birthed me. Plus, I gotta go. My friend is serving lunch." I hang up the phone and get off the floor.

"You forgot to mention that you shaved your head." Jacob says walking over. "I'm sure he'll love it when I get home. Thank you." I take the cup from him and take a seat on the sofa. "Your home is comfortable. Who lives with you?" "Just my father." I'm sure that's nice to keep privacy between the two. I blow on the hot cocoa. I haven't had this in years.

Jacob sits next to me. "I'll be out of your hair and perhaps into mine." "Take your time. You been through a lot." "To see the future." Not much. With a quick sip of my hot drink, I burn the tip of my tongue. I place the cup on the table and rub on my pants legs to calm my nerves. "Are you okay?"

"A little bit. Nine months is horrible to be medicated and shock therapy. Lived pretty quick not to recall anything. I can speak having yet to see the future. Have you heard of me?" "Most definitely have. You became the talk of Forks but it died down a couple of months ago." I'm pretty sure. "Was Tonya ever found? She went missing, right?" "No."

"Being a target, those closest to you are known to be a target unless it was a mental attack." I'm unsure anymore. All I can do is move forward. "Why help a stranger?" "You're not a stranger, Mary-Ann." "I should be. If I am able to tell the truth, I'll quickly leave." "Not before serving your sentence." Right. I still have three years and three months ago.

The front door opens to Paul. Oh, that's right. He does know Paul. "What is she doing here?" He asks walking in. "Found her on the beach. Invited her to take her home." "He fixed me hot chocolate first. Plus, he lets me us-" "Let's go." He tells me. "I'm okay with Jaco-" "Bella is on her way, Jacob."

Who is Bella? Why would he bring her up? "Your girlfriend?" I ask being nosey. "Childhood friend." "I still have ye-" Paul walks over, grab my arm, and snatch me off the cough. "You're hurting me!" I yell as he forces me out of the house. What is his problem?

I'm forced down the wheelchair ramp and towards his car. Each step that I take, I try to rip my arm from Paul's grip. I'm not able to. It is though he has superstrength. Soon as he throws me into the passenger seat through the driver's seat, he drives us off Jacob's property. "Why? Wha-" "You're mentally unstable. You're crazy in the mind."

"I am." I admit fixing myself in the seat. Treatment in that institute was harsh. "I was going to offer him sex." He laughs. "I was. He was going to take it until you interrupted me. Now you want to interfere in a situation that does not concern you." He drives us onto the road heading for the Main Road. It'll take us off the tribe. He pulls on the side of the road and turn the car off.

"Why you stop?" "Can you see the future?" I laugh. "We're still on this." "Just thought to know." "No, Paul. I cannot see the future. Congratulations on your newborn baby boy. Jacob's older sister, right? A twin, right?" "What he told you or what you seen?" I breathe out. I guess we're going to be going back and forth. "I cannot see the future, Paul. My ex-friend is crazy while my mother follows behind her."

That's mostly my situation. Bzzz! I stare into my reflection to see the mysterious cowboy staring back at me. "A connection has be-" I roll the window down. "Let's have sex." I say turning to face him. "Soulmate." He says starting the car back. Soulmate. He had a son. I know nothing of his life, but this slight illusion has started to tell truthful details.

I roll the window back up to see the image of the cowboy gone. Is the man targeting me or possibly a protector of my mental state? I bite my bottom lip as Paul begins us back on the road. Perhaps, I should test it. I put on my seatbelt and look at my driver. "My acne has gone down considerable. Face is still ugly. Boobs and butt is still the same. Have you changed your home?" "Depends."

"Right. The world is full of supernatural creatures. It seems I have become a target because Claire knew before I did, Paul. What do I do?" I'm pretty sure calling the cops is out of the question. "Your decision." "It is, Paul. Just haven't decided yet." Currently, it is not a right decision to make. I talk now and it'll prove that I am crazy. My own mother most definitely think I worship the devil.

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I'm seated at the dining table eating the mac & cheese as though I have not eaten in days. I guess I am too much in a good mood knowing that I might possibly be able to read the future. What I chose to decide is keep my mouth shut. It is no need to speak when I'm serving a court ordered sentence due to my own mother. "Where did you go?" She asks me.

"To meet with my wiccan group, Mom. Speak devilish prayers to the crazy community." I grab my glass of coke and drink. "This young man that you spoke on who is your friend. What is his name?" "A stranger, Mom. He stopped me from killing myself because he knew how you threw your only child to the wolves to save your own grace."

"I made a decision that my daughter needed psychological health." "Because I chose to worship the devil. Long live the devil!" I raise the roof. Ding! Dong! "The devil received my prayer, Dad." "Let's stop, Mary-Ann." Should I? Mom gets up from her seat and leave the dining room. I roll my eyes. "Mom works worship the devil, Dad." "Your mother is of the Lord, Mary-Ann."

"I thought those who could see, hear, and speak the word of God are known as prophets? Perhaps I heard wro-" POP! POP! Two gunshots erupt in my ears causing me to scurry under the table. My father rushes out of the dining room. Someone is shooting a gun!