This chapter will contain a description of a traumatizing event, moderately severe swearing, and brief thoughts of self-injury.
Heavy drum beats vibrate the car, Gwen Stefanis' voice blasts along with it, "Cuz I ain't no Hollaback girl!" The girl next to me and I sing along with the song, shouting and giggling as I maneuver through the mostly empty city streets. It's a quiet night. We're on the outskirts of Chicago. Only a few people are present on the sidewalk, only a few cars are on the road.
I slow the car to a stop at a red light, looking over at my passenger. Dark brown curls surrounding her porcelain skin, beautiful, big brown eyes, glimmering with joy. Her smile is contagious, and her delighted laughter is music to my ears. My heart warms at the sight of her. Effervescent, lively. Childish happiness radiates from her. It's impossible to not be in a good mood when she's around.
The light turns to green as I turn my view forward again. Pulling forwards into the intersection, we continue singing, me looking straight down the street. A pair of headlights come up from the right.
Tires squeal. Metal screeches. Screams. My vision is blurry, my head feels heavy yet light. Disoriented. I notice a hot, scalding pain in my abdomen. Bringing my hand up to my stomach, I feel liquid. Sticky, warm… I look down, seeing a blur of red covering my small hand. Blood…? And my legs... something's wrong with my… My head raises slowly, cloudy eyes and mind trying to make sense of things. To the right, I manage to focus on her eyes. Her eyes… blank, sightless.
Frigid, terrifying panic builds within me. A horrified scream builds up in my throat, as I reach over to try and-
I jolt forward, chest heaving in pants, desperate for breath. My body convulses in sobs, carefully muffled by my hands smothering my mouth. A dream. Just a dream. Just another bloody dream. The crying stops soon after it started, leaving me staring at the gray blanket covering my legs. Cool numbness rushes like a wave over my body. Apathy. Comfortable, familiar. Yet my heart still beats hard and fast, ringing through my ears and pounding through my head. Yet my hands still shake in their white knuckles, death grip on my comforter. Yet and yet and yet…
Conflicting lack of emotions and horrendous physical reactions. I don't know why it happens. I don't know how to fix it. What I should feel and what I actually feel don't match up, if I feel anything at all. It should be frustrating. I should be mad. But I'm not… I can't. Not really. I'd describe what I'm feeling as mild annoyance. Just like everything else. Mild, barely there.
With a swing of my body, I'm standing up in a haze, nearly falling over before I can lean my weight on the trusty, solid wall closest to my bed. I grunt as I force myself forward, nearly dragging myself across my room, to the hall, into the bathroom. I flinch at the sudden bright light as I flip the light switch7jp'. Struggling over to the shower, I turn it on, and as I wait for the water to heat up, I look at myself in the mirror. Dark circles, heavy bags beneath my eyes. The eyes that are half-lidded, the eyes that hold no emotion. I smile, the sides of my lips lifting up into a semi-convincing smile. My eyes never change. I can't bring myself to care to force it.
When the air gets heavy with steam and the mirror clouds, I strip and haul myself under the warm spray. My head is swimming, everything feels fuzzy. I go into autopilot, scrubbing and rinsing away vanilla-scented suds. A few times, I have to hold myself up against the cold tiles to keep myself from collapsing. I can't help my eyes being drawn to the razor sitting on the ledge of the tub. It seems worse today. Everything seems worse today. The emptiness, my legs. I'm probably going to have to pull out my goddamn crutches so that I'm not face-planting every step that I take. Maybe later. Later…
I force my thoughts to go the other direction. To a more mundane, completely calm state. Focusing on unimportant, boring thoughts… like that group of boys- men, really. You can't call a male who is over a foot taller than you and is more than twice your weight in muscle a boy. The past week has made me feel like a rare species of bird, confined in a cage, under constant surveillance. They stare. Constantly. I'm not bothered by it. They can do what they want. Nobody's hurt and my sanity is still intact. No harm no foul, right?
It is a little strange, though, suddenly gaining the interest of a group of men whom I have never spoken to. Cody worries. Not too much, but he definitely thinks something up. He asks me if I'm in trouble with them almost every day. I try to answer as lamely as possible, adding no fuel to the fire of his paranoia. Some people just enjoy observing others. This certain group of people is just horrible at being subtle. It's a bit entertaining, really. They seem so enraptured whenever they do look at me. Who would think that a girl who hardly puts any effort into anything and spends all of her free time in bed would capture someone's attention so completely?
Whatever… I don't buy whatever conspiracy theories Cody tries to hook me on. They're not going to kidnap me. I'm not going to be initiated into whatever cult or gang that they are running. I'm not going to get hooked on any drugs. They can't force me to do anything that I don't want to. Which I guess is a little bit of a problem, because I don't really give a damn what I do.
I climb out of the shower, fingers getting a little pruney. Being mindful of my unreliable legs, I continue on with my routine. Though… you can't really call something a routine when you only ever do it after dreadful nightmares. It's not that uncommon but it's not exactly a daily occurrence. My mind now feels empty, going through a boring, regular process. Brush teeth, wash face, blow-dry hair, slip back into my bedroom to get my clothes. Hmm, what outfit should I pick today? Dark gray sweatshirt with black skinny jeans or a black sweatshirt with black skinny jeans? The difficult choices I have to make…
I go with the black sweatshirt. It's soft. The alarm clock on my bedside table says that it's still 6:47. Fucking hell, today is going to be miserable. Not enough sleep, damn-near useless legs. Carefully stepping over to my closet, I pull out the two aluminum crutches that lean in the back, partially obscured by the old shirts and dresses that are collecting dust from months of going untouched. Tugging my beat-up pair of black Converses on, I approach the stairs, cautiously going down them with the crutches.
It's mildly surprising, seeing my mom sitting at the table, two cups of coffee in front of her. She smiles up at me as I come in, glancing at the crutches a little bit, but she makes the nice move of not saying anything. I can't even look her in the eye. After the nightmare that I just had, it makes my gut churn at the resemblances. Brown curls. Pale skin. Warm eyes.
"I have a shift in thirty minutes 'n' I heard the shower going so I figured I could make your coffee for you," moms' soft voice breaks the silence in the kitchen. "You don't take it with anything, right?"
"Just black," I mumble in confirmation, taking a long gulp of the warm drink. A sigh of resignation blows past her lips. 'Guess she's tired of my withdrawn moods. Deciding to offer a little something to appease her, I look up and give a little smile.
That seems to lighten her quite a bit.
Before she leaves, she says goodbye and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Once the front door slams shut, I'm plunged back into still silence. It's not long until the beeping horn of Codys' little car comes from out front, and I go hobbling out.
Cody, as per usual, is beaming as I slide into his car. He has Eminem's Without Me blasting on the speakers, which he turns down to a gentle hum. "Bad leg day, huh?" he questions, looking over at the crutches that I am trying to situate comfortably by my side.
We pull out of the driveway as I hum in confirmation, "Yeah," I say, "woke up and almost fell on my face." He nods in understanding, not saying anything else about it. At least he's good at gauging when I don't want to continue on a topic. I turn up the volume of the music again, and we don't talk much until we get to school. Getting out of the car, Cody feels compelled to run around to the passenger side and help me get steady. He even grabs my bag (that's pretty much empty) to make it easier for me to balance. Off to class we go, me stubbornly ignoring the multiple stares that I get from a certain bulky group of men.
Alone at my locker, students walk by, heading to the cafeteria for fifth-hour lunch. Loud talking, pounding feet, rowdy boys running through the crowd, occasionally bumping into me as I struggle to reach up to the top shelf. My hand flounders around a little, searching for a specific bottle that I pray was not pushed to the back.
When I feel the rounded plastic, I quickly grab it and pull it down, resting my heels back onto the ground, balance safely restored. Opening the child-proof top, I take out a few ibuprofen pills, popping them into my mouth and dry swallowing them. The headache that is attacking my skull is making me desperate for some relief. Thankfully, my savior has just plopped into my stomach.
Out of my periphery, I vaguely notice the hulking figure walking along the row of lockers, coming closer to me with every step. Carefully rising back up onto my toes, I set the pill bottle back onto the shelf.
"Those can cause internal bleeding, you know."
I look over to the man who said it, meeting the unmistakable eyes of one of the "La Push Protectors". He's tall, broad, rather conventionally attractive, as is the rest of the group. It's genuinely hard to tell them apart from a distance.
Mr. Protector has a small smile on his face, very reminiscent of my own small quirk of the lips that I use when I can't bring myself to force a full-on grin, except he looks a bit nervous. Sheepish. Probably from approaching the girl that he and his friends have been stalking for the past seven days.
"Great information for an ibuprofen addict," I say flatly. His eyebrows raise a bit, eyes blowing in what looks like alarm. After a long pause, just making him sweat it out, I decide to take mercy on him, reassuring him in the same tone, "It's a joke." The look on his face was definitely worth the sarcastic comment, even if I had to redraw it almost immediately. Not many people understand my sarcastic humor right off the bat.
"Ah, well, that's good," he says, smiling a bit more. Coming closer, to a more comfortable distance rather than an 'if she blows up at me because me and my friends are creepy, I can run' distance. "I'm Embry Call," the man says, holding out a hand to me. How incredibly formal and boring.
Hesitantly reaching my own hand out to him, I shake his incredibly hot and large hand. "Danny Freed," I respond in kind. Immediately dropping his hand, I tug at the cuffs on my sweatshirt a little before grabbing the bar on my crutches, backing away from my locker and closing it.
"I- ah, well-" Embry stumbles, walking beside me as I start to go down the now-empty hallway. "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come and sit with me at lunch?" Cute. Such a big man and he's all timid talking to a girl half his size. "I mean, only if you want to, but I think that it would be really nice to get to know you." 'Get to know me'. What kind of crap is that? That's something you say to a new friend or a prospective lover because you don't want to be complete strangers. I am neither.
"Sorry," I say, even though I am definitely not sorry, "I have a previous engagement I need to be getting to." We walk through the cafeteria doors together, me heading straight to my table.
"Oh…" he says quietly, staying back while I sit down with my usual group. If I were anyone else, I would feel bad for shutting down the guy so immediately. Not even sparing him another glance, I turn to Cody who was sitting right next to me, as usual. The rest of the guys say their hellos, for once not arguing or debating some weird topic or talking about hot girls. What a relief.
Cody smiles, handing me the apple from his lunch tray. "Hey Dan, how you doin'?" he asks, quoting that one guy from the show he likes. What's its name? Starts with an 'F' or something…? I dunno.
I shrug, taking a bite of the apple he shoved into my hand, immediately wrinkling my nose at it's mushy, overripeness. Schools really don't have good food. "Fine. Bored. And this apple tastes like ass," I say, tossing it back onto his tray.
"Why else do you think I gave it to you?" he snickers, earning an eye roll from me. Tugging at my sleeves again a little, I consider telling him about my little meeting with that Call dude. It might make him panic… that's enough reason to not. A Cody that is freaking out is the most obnoxious Cody. And my best friend can be incredibly obnoxious.
"Dick…" I murmur, giving him a bit of a side-eye.
Cody smiles, eyes crinkling a bit at the edges. "Don't be so sour, you're the one who ate it," he says, "but, anyway, I was thinking about doing something after school. You know, like, going to get some food. We could go to the diner, or maybe go back to my place and watch a movie."
I shrug. "Sure. We can do either," I say with indifference. What's a few more hours of being awake?
"Yes! I say that we go get some food, then we can watch It when we go back to mine, sound good?" Cody's enthusiasm makes no sense to me. It's cute, but it's just us hanging out. It's not like we don't do this every now and then.
"Didn't we watch It like, a week ago?"
"If you mean before winter break, then yes," Cody says turning back to his lunch, poking at questionable mashed potatoes, "I swear girl, next you're going to be forgetting when your birthday is." I roll my eyes, ignoring his comment as I begin to look around the lunchroom. I still find it strange how one of the cult boys asked me to sit with them.
Tugging at my sleeves, I face Cody. "One of the steroid munchers asked me to sit with them," I say casually, hoping beyond hope that he doesn't blow this out of proportion. Calming down this kid is the last thing that I want to waste my energy on.
"What?" he replies dumbly. The information is just processing… "What the hell? Seriously? What'd you say? What do they want?" he shrieks out the questions in rapid mode.
"I dunno…" I pause to think about it a little bit. "It was that Ember dude? Said that he wanted to get to know me, and I said something about having something I need to do? I can't remember."
"You don't remember?" He splutters, "You have this conversation like ten minutes ago, and you can't remember what you said? What if, like, he said something else? A warning? A creepy thing that means that you have to go into witness protection or- or- maybe, y'know like buy a gun to protect yourself? Y'know?" No, I do not know. I am starting to regret telling him, but at the same time, I am rather amused by his dramatics.
"If it was something serious I think that I would remember it." I would hope so, at least. "It's nothing to stress about, I kind of just wanted your opinion on it."
"Holy crap Danny, this is definitely something to stress about. They have been stalking you for the past week and you just-" Cody looks behind me again, cutting off abruptly.
Sighing in exasperation, electing to ignore the boys that I know he is freaking out about. Instead, I grab my crutches and uneasily stand up. "I'm gonna go early. Don't worry 'bout them Codes, nothing bad's gonna happen," I soothe.
He pouts a little bit, looking up at me as I grab my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. "Why do you always leave so early?"
"Because I like to do coke in the bathroom, duh," I say, starting to walk away. In all actuality, I just hate the noise of the lunchroom. Too many people. It's just annoying.
"Bring me some next time!" Cody calls, playing along with my sarcastic joke. That's one thing that I love about him. He can always tell when I'm joking and when I'm not. Best feature in a person- understands sarcasm. Sorry, Ember.
Quiet whispers, rustling pages of paper, rhythmic clicking of the librarians stamping the checkout dates of books. My face is nestled into the crook of my arm, soft heavyweight cotton rubbing against my cheek. My gym period is one of my favorites. Nothing to do, relaxing background sounds, no one disturbin-
The thumping of a chair being moved on the carpet immediately breaks my stream of thought. Cracking open an eye, I see none other than Paul 'Creepy Boy' Lahote sitting across from me. Godda-
"Hey," he says with a smile. A large, bright smile. After seeing his glowering at Cody for the past week, it's definitely a surprising change.
I grunt in response. Being disturbed during my naptime isn't something that I enjoy.
But that just makes him smile more. "Okay Sleeping Beauty, be that way," he says as he reaches out a hand, much like that Ember dude did. "I'm Paul Lahote." Oh trust me, I know. 'Pain in my ass' Lahote has finally had the decency to introduce himself.
Sighing, I pick my head up and force myself to briefly shake his hand. But he doesn't just let go. He holds my hand, his massive one completely engulfing mine. Milky white skin against copper. Cool against hot. Literally hot. It's like this dude's got a fever.
Paul keeps intense eye contact with me, dark eyes scanning my face. It's not long until I'm yanking my hand out of his, narrowing my eyes and giving him a glare. A real one. What the hell is this dude's problem?
Immediately after losing skin-on-skin contact with me, Paul looks down at his hand, looking a little startled. Either because I just rejected whatever the hell he was trying to pull or because he didn't realize how much of a creep he was being, who the hell knows.
Paul looks back up at me, leaning back into his seat, acquiring a new look, fitted with a cocky smirk. I can just feel myself swooning. Swooning at this arrogant ass that I would love to not be talking to. I've already had to shut down Christopher during another creepy encounter. Today is really turning into one of the best days ever, huh?
"So, I was wondering, how about you and me go out this weekend? Or even better, later today?" his deep voice breaks through my sarcastic internal monologue.
Now, there are a few ways that I can reply to this question. One: Of course! I would love to! No. Two: Piss off a-hole. Promising… and Three: Completely ignore him. While the third one is tempting…
"No," I say firmly. Good compromise. Solid, precise, not wasting my breath on him.
Paul deflates a little, but he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, effectively flexing his biceps. He's really trying hard, huh... "Come on, just one date. I'll make it worth your while."
I almost gag. Normally, I wouldn't go along with whatever rumors there are about someone. Everything that tends to be hear-say. I'm not a judgemental person. Not at all. People can do what they want, worrying about what they wear or what they do is just a waste of time and petty. Childish. But this is something completely different. A guy that has been looking at me like a damn piece of meat for days on end, coming up to me while I am trying to get some sleep, and hitting me with one of the worst things you can say to a girl. 'I'll make it worth your while'. It's one of the most sleazy things someone can say.
"No," I repeat. Just as firm.
He furrows his brows a little, leaning back in his chair. Paul looks sad. Like a puppy who didn't get a treat.
I can't find it in myself to pity him, or to break under his demands. It's not worth my time. I just want to sleep, and him staying here isn't helping me in that task. Rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hands, I say, "Leave me alone dude, I'm not interested in sleeping with you."
Lazily looking back up at him, he looks almost appalled. "No, no no no no. You got me all wrong. Danny, c'mon, that not what I want," he rushes. Gotta admit he's a pretty decent actor. "I just want a date. Nothing has to happen. Just a good date, and- well, that's all I need." He casts me a pleading look, taking that wounded puppy look up a notch.
After sitting in silence a little bit, me eyeing him, completely desensitized to his little plea. If he can't handle rejection then he shouldn't be trying to date. He shifts in his seat, palms pressed flat against the tabletop, fingers twitching a little bit.
"I'm not interested in a date either," I say. This is getting tiresome. "I don't date, I don't sleep around. I'm not interested." He's attractive. The definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Maybe before I would have agreed. Say yes to a date, do stupid stuff together. Not now. Definitely not now.
"Please, I just-" he begins, getting cut off by the ring of the bell. Getting up, apparently a little too enthusiastically despite me going at my regular speed, I stumble into the table, catching myself on the hard wood. I notice that Paul had stuck out a hand close to my arm, hovering there for a little bit before he catches my glare at it. He moves it back to his side as I grab my crutches and start to leave the library. "Please, Danny, just give me a chance." His voice calls after me, but I ignore it. What else am I supposed to do when a guy isn't just taking no for an answer. Just like Christopher, he doesn't listen. I can't stand it.
Walking home was the only thing I could think of after that little meeting. I sent off a text to Cody. No plans after school unless he wants to come over and play with my cat. Which he'll probably do.
There wasn't much I could do after having the library taken over my Lahote besides getting the hell out. It was the only feasible option, my eighth period being free only adding to that. So now I can finally enjoy the rest of my day at home.
Walking through the front door, leaving it unlocked for when Cody inevitably comes over, I hobble up the stairs, changing into my amazing pair of plaid pajama pants and my extra big sweatshirt. Leisure clothes seem to be the only thing I live for. I go back down to the couch, flopping down on my back and relaxing into the amazingly comfortable cushions.
In what feels like no time, Cody is barging through the door. "Honey, I'm home," he calls in his incredible impersonation of Frozone. Rounding the back of the couch, he looks down at me. "Hey lazy ass," Cody says, grinning from ear to ear. I snort. He holds up the case to It, the clown, Pennywise, staring right at me. "Look what I brought~" he sings, turning around and placing the disk into my CD player.
Flopping down onto the couch by my feet, Cody looks around the living room. "Where's my baby?"
Scoffing at him, I sit up. "You mean my baby?" I say flatly.
"Sure, hun," Cody says sarcastically. I roll my eyes, making a clicking noise with my tongue that has a little calico munchkin running into the room, leaping onto my lap. Looking up at Cody, I give a small smile of triumph.
"Yeah, she's mine," I say, laying back down as Cody starts the movie (slightly bitter because of his 'baby' picking me). The movie starts, I hardly pay attention, just petting my kitten while I space out while the clown kills children. How fun.
When Cody leaves, it's already dark and I decide that I'm going to bed early, skipping dinner. Nothing is working out well today. Hardly enough sleep, weird giants bothering me, no nap… it's not like things typically go well. It's just not bad. Normally things are fine. Perfectly fine…
Dropping onto my bed, I pull myself under the covers. But… when I try to fall asleep, a whining comes from outside. An animalistic whine. One that I have heard from dogs and the like. It's like a wounded animal, and I can't help but want to see what's wrong.
I force myself back out of my bed. I force myself to the window. I force it open. Really, this is a lot of forcing I have to do. It's been a few seconds away from my covers and I miss my bed already.
Poking my head out of the window, I get a good view of the backyard. Trees, a massive wolf, grass, bushes- massive wolf?
It's rather close to the house, almost right below my window. Silver fur, thick and glistening beneath the slowly rising moon. Glowing eyes, trained up at me. It whines again. Furrowing my eyebrows, I look at it, leaning farther down over my window sill.
"Holy shit…" I mutter absentmindedly.
Not a lot of stuff gets to me anymore (in any way) but this damn near stole my breath straight from my lungs. In my very accurate opinion, animals are better than humans, and hot damn this is a once in a lifetime experience. I don't think that wolves are normally this big, but hey, what the hell do I know?
The wolf points it's snout up at me, displaying its large black nose, twitching as it breathes. I feel my own nose twitching at the sight, an automatic response to both my nerves and seeing him (her? it?) doing the same. A howl rings out from farther in the forest, loud and echoing. I wonder, how many wolves are in this area? An entire pack? Just a few?
The wolf turns its head towards the sound, before taking a few steps in that direction, looking back at me, and then continuing, leaving me astounded in its' wake.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
My heart thuds in the best way I have felt in months, and my hands tremble in excitement. It's going to be short-lived, but this is the best I've felt in ages.
Turning back to my bed, I push myself into it, keeping myself still until my high runs down and I fall asleep.
Blunted Affect- A condition where there is a severe restriction in the display and intensity of emotions. Commonly seen in people with PTSD, depression, schizophrenia, and Parkinson's (first two are relevant in this story). Those who experience the blunted affect often feel detached from social situations (ex: spacing out) and have a numbed affect in response to emotional stimuli (feeling apathetic or empty). They may know what they should feel in their head, but not being able to feel it. Feeling emotions tends to mean that they won't express emotion, but someone may still display emotions at a higher intensity than they feel or an emotion that they aren't feeling at all (basically, they know what they should feel so they act accordingly to look 'normal').
Feel free to look it up for a more detailed description or more information (I find the psychology of it all incredibly fascinating), but I thought that this is an important bit of information for this story. Admittedly, I find it difficult to write a character with this sort of condition, but I am trying to do so based on my own experiences, and challenging myself to get this all down. This is a bit of a therapeutic thing for me because I'm still trying to make sense of the things that I have felt (or not felt) and the time gap that I have experienced (depression tends to have a bad effect on memory). It's a confusing and sometimes aggravating condition, and I hope that I end up portraying that with my character.