Paul
Every muscle in my neck stiffens; a fruitless attempt to control my rage. I hate how powerless I am to the will of my wolf.
"Fuck… FUCK!" I growl, slamming my fist down so hard on the roof of Rachel's car that I leave a massive indentation.
Rachel flinches and closes her eyes tight. She doesn't witness my transformation. She doesn't witness the pathetic display as I quickly back away from her and fall to the ground in a feeble attempt to control it. It… being the wolf.
Scraps of clothing I can't afford to lose, lay scattered around the parking lot. I want to shout at her. I want to scream at her for doing this to me. But my vocal cords can't do that. Not in this form.
Instead what comes out of my mouth is a monstrous growl. A vocalization I never, ever wanted to make in front of her. Certainly not towards her.
Rachel gasps, trembling at the sight of me. This monster. This behemoth wolf in a rage. The sight of her like this — scared and shaking — makes me feel sick. If I could, I'd change back this second. But I can't. I'm not in control of this thing. At least not right now.
A rather embarrassing whimper escapes my throat and my temper flares again. This time I take it out on myself, slamming my head into a nearby concrete light pole.
Rachel gasps at the sudden display of self-injury, clasping her hand tightly to her mouth. It's not enough for me. I do it again and again.
"Paul!... Paul, stop," Rachel runs towards me, disregarding the sanity of any normal person in this situation, "no, no, no, no- s- STOP!" she shrieks, putting herself between me and the light post, forcing me to stop or else risk slamming into her which would surely break her ribs or worse.
I whimper, stopping at her command.
"Oh, Paul," Rachel runs her fingers through the short fur on my head. It stings. I must have done a number to it but I'll heal quickly like I always do. "What'd you do?" she trembled, pulling her hand back covered in blood.
Rachel reaches out to inspect my head again but I jerk away. I already feel pathetic enough. This entire night has been embarrassing beyond belief. I'd rather just be alone now. I turn from her and wander towards the tree line but I can feel her following behind me. If I hadn't bashed my head in so good, I could probably run off and lose her quickly but I feel woozy and somewhat unsteady on my feet. So I wander just far enough to conceal myself in the brush beyond the treeline and collapse on the damp forest floor.
"Are you just going to stay here?" Rachel asked, kneeling beside me.
Yes. But I can't answer her. So I close my eyes. Maybe now she'll go away. But she doesn't. Surprisingly, she sits down in the damp leaves beside me. Go home. I attempt to nudge her away with my nose but she doesn't move. Instead, she gently pushes my nose back with her palm and lays down next to me.
"Stop," she mumbles, "I'm staying with you."
I huff. A puff of vapor from my snout indicates exactly how cold it is tonight. She doesn't take the hint though and stays exactly where she is... Fine, if you're going to be stubborn… I extend my paw and pull at the ground on the other side of her, drawing her close to me. She doesn't resist. How could she? I'm a beast and can overpower her.
She lays her head against my thick mane. The sound of the ocean and crickets keep us company. My head already stings less; the healing is well underway.
"I'm sorry," Rachel whispers.
I have no way to reply to her. Maybe that's how she likes it.
"I shouldn't have done that. I exploited your weakness selfishly. It wasn't right," she continued. She didn't need to continue and yet she still does, "I'm so sorry."
The sadness in her voice moves me. Of course, I forgive her. My paw grips further into the earth on the other side of her and I pull her even closer. She doesn't resist. Instead, she snuggles herself into me deeper. If I attempted to phase back at this moment I could probably achieve it. I'm calm and once again in control. Yet, I don't want to spoil this moment. If she — for whatever reason — can take comfort in my wolf form then so be it. I can be that for her.
We stay like that for hours; each of us drifting in and out of sleep. Around 2:30 AM Rachel goes back to her car and retrieves a blanket. I wonder if she's cold. But when she returns she sets it down on the forest floor, tells me that she'll wait for me in her car.
I emerge from the treeline with the blanket wrapped around me to find her sitting against the hood. When our eyes lock, she gets into the driver's side and waits for me. I quickly look away.
"Hi," I whisper. I settle into the passenger seat. I still can't look at her.
"I'll take you to get some clothes," she turns the key in the ignition.
"Thank you," I mumble. My head is still pounding but when I check it in the mirror I don't see any cuts left. They've all healed.
The drive is quiet and uncomfortable. I can't help but feel like whatever chance I ever had with her is long gone. Depression — dark and murky — floods over me. What's the point of anything? Maybe I should make like Jacob and leave all of this behind. Let the wolf take over… I have nothing… Except for the pack. They'd be better off without me. I'm a liability. Too hot headed. Untamed. Pathetic.
We pull up to the Black house. Fresh tarps are covering the construction zone on the roof.
"Are you coming?" Rachel asks when she steps out of the car and onto the gravel and I don't follow.
"I thought-" I shrug and get out of the car, holding the blanket around myself.
I thought she was going to bring me clothing and then take me home. I follow her up the porch steps and into the house. It's dark. The smell from the roof repairs fills the house with a fresh wood scent. Stacks of lumber sit in the hallway next to the stairs.
"Come," Rachel beckons me from halfway up the steps.
I follow her. What else can I do? I feel like I am outside of my body. Perhaps it's from concussing myself against a concrete light pole. Perhaps it's the culmination of my pathetic existence… I wish I could have a do-over and be someone else for her.
Rachel kneels down in front of a laundry basket in Jacob's room where she is staying and rummages through the folded piles of fresh laundry.
"I think these'll fit," she holds out a grey pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
"Thanks," I whisper, accepting the borrowed clothes.
Rachel turns her back, I assume to give me privacy but I don't care if she gazes upon my naked form. It's the beast I am ashamed of not the man. I drop the blanket and pull the sweats on, tying the drawstring. Then I pull on the t-shirt. It's a little loose. Jacob is larger than me but not by much.
"I'll go," I swallow and start towards the door.
"No."
I turn around, "I'll be okay," I assure her.
"I won't. Please stay," she replies quickly. The words fly out of her mouth so quickly; they catch me off guard... maybe they catch her off guard too.
"Okay," I just stand there, "but… you're… still…"
"Hm?" Rachel picks a leaf out of her hair.
You're still not going to tell me. Tell me what's troubling you, why you don't want me… why I'm not good enough. What's broken you…
"Nevermind," I shake my head, "where do I go?" I exhale, recalling the mention of an air mattress from earlier. I glance into the hallway.
"Stay here… with me," her voice barely chokes out.
"On the floor," I look down beside the bed.
"With me," she whispers. Her voice is weak and strained.
She's seconds away from crying. I can tell. I'm so confused. I want to know why but I don't ask. I just nod and lay down on the small single bed and open my arms for her.
She hesitates. I wish I knew what she was thinking. It's like she wants it both ways. To be here with me and to not be here with me. Her good senses don't prevail and she sits down on the bed and rests her body next to mine. Her back is to me. I cannot see her face.
"Don't do that again," she whispers, "hurt yourself… never do that again."
I inhale her hair, closing my arms around her. I don't promise her anything. I'm violent and untamed. That's who I am. If I need to destroy, I'd rather it be myself and not some innocent bystander. I thought that perhaps I could learn to control it… control it for her. But what she saw tonight is just who I am… I'm deeply ashamed.
"Promise me," she whispers.
"Bird… go to sleep," I mumble.
"Please."
"I… I'll try to… be better," I declare, painfully. That's all I can do… is try. Try and fail. Try and fail. Try and fail. "For you…"
"Do it for you," she replies, softly, resting her hands on my arms that are tightly wrapped around her petite torso.
I nod and inhale her hair again. Anything for you.
"Is your head okay?" she asks, quietly after a long pause.
"It will be," I answer her, "are… you okay?" I tread lightly. The last time I attempted to understand what's troubling her, I got slapped.
"I…" she pauses.
"Bird?" I whisper.
"No."
"What can I do?" I tighten my arms around her, pulling her body closer to mine.
"This… just," Rachel sniffles, "hold me just like this."
So I do. No more questions. No more prying. Whatever troubles or secrets she's holding onto I simply accept that they'll be for her to know and her alone. I lay with her until the sun comes up and hold her tight. I breathe in her hair and kiss her shoulder and gently squeeze her from time to time; never venturing for anything more than this. My heart is at the wheel, keeping any kind of sexual arousal at bay.
By the time daylight fills the small room, she is fast asleep. I can hear Billy Black in the kitchen below us, making coffee and frying breakfast. I feel something come over me that I've never felt before. It's difficult to place it. I feel… content… Safe. Being here with Rachel, in a house that feels warm — not warm like the temperature but warm like loving — it's the missing piece. The thing I've never had before. The thing I didn't know I wanted desperately until this very moment.
It's now that I realise that I will follow this girl to the ends of the earth. Do anything to be with her like this. I want this. I need this. Even if I can only ever have her like this. This is enough.
Overwhelmed by this newfound contentment, I too drift into a peaceful dreamless slumber.
Hours later I wake to Rachel's fingers combing through my hair, inspecting for wounds which have since healed completely. She's no longer in my arms. She's sitting on the edge of the bed.
I don't open my eyes. I just lay there and enjoy her tender touch; the caring way she's determined to look after me.
"I brought you coffee," she whispers.
"Thank you," I whisper without opening my eyes. I'm exhausted.
"You have to call your father."
It's like a punch to the gut; all of the contentedness dissipates and I am right back to where I started—dread. I open my eyes. I sit up and sigh, taking the coffee from Rachel.
"Paul, he filed a missing persons report on you," Rachel said, "Dad just told me that Charlie called asking about you. I guess since they still have a missing persons out on Jacob… Charlie thought that Dad might know something."
"What'd you tell him?" I sip the hot coffee.
"That you're here," Rachel pinches her lips together.
I nearly spit out the hot beverage, "you did?"
Rachel nods, "he said he heard two people come in last night. Had hoped it was Jacob…"
"Should I leave out the window?" I smirk a little, picturing Billy Black waiting for me downstairs with a 12 gauge shotgun.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Rachel smiles and shakes her head… "um… about last night… I'm sorry about the uh- well… everything."
"Me too," I put the coffee down, "... Bird?"
"Hm?" Rachel picks up the coffee and takes a sip.
"Did someone hurt you?" I have to ask, "you don't have to tell me the details… I just… I know that you don't want to talk about it but I-"
"Yes," Rachel replies, "but probably not like you're thinking," she gazes down at the black coffee. She looks back up at me, "it's complicated and… well. I'm not ready to talk about it… With anyone," she admits.
I nod, "okay… I'm here, though. If you do want to talk about it," I brush her hair over her shoulders, "or if you ever just want me to hold you," I confess.
Rachel puts the coffee down and looks at the floor for a long time as though she is calculating the risks and benefits of my proposition. Or perhaps a gentle way to turn me down. Maybe last night was just a one-night-thing. The only time I will ever have her in my arms.
"Thank you," she looks up at me, "I'd like that."
"Me too," I whisper. The feelings are mutual.