I think Rachel deserves this story.
Please let me know what you all think.
Prologue
The shoreline is a wonky, dented horseshoe of a thing, with the harbour nestled at the centre of its rusty heart, and the rhythm of the waves hitting the algae-covered beams is its weighted, thudding heartbeat. Long strips of overturned beach reside either side of it, damp, dark grains of sand tangled with maroon and olive shreds of seaweed, some of the tattered strips floating out into the water and wrapping themselves around the shaky structure of the wharf.
Tiny homes dot the edges of the shore, some so close to the water that the vicious spray of seafoam knocks on front doors, rests on stoops. The terrain is flat and muddled with sand, until, in the near distance, the earth jumps in a sudden elevation of jagged mountains, green and stone, of swooped hills undertoned with red and orange and earth, stretching up into the shadow of foggy clouds that drape themselves along the tree line, starting a steady decline on to the town. The cliffs are grey and wrinkled with dark lines, and they hold La Push captive.
As they walk along the beach, Jacob speaks at her fast and loose-lipped. Over the years he's developed a tongue that their mother would have fainted at, and she feels that way too, almost, in a slight state of overwhelm as she attempts to keep her footing steady among the sinking, wet sand. All the while Jacob swears a storm and talks so fast that she hardly understands a word he's saying, grammar all jumbled together and lost under the thrash of waves trying to reach their feet. Maybe that's just her being sanctimonious though, and internally, she shivers at the thought.
The houses on the forefront of the water are akin to a frontline, ready for battle. They're the first line of defense it seems, seafoam exploding and reaching for the frosted windows. Behind them lies the rest of La Push, hidden and tucked in the shadows of the mountains, just a single, thin strip of road leading past the hills, a tiny speck of a thing.
By the time they've walked halfway down the sand, Rachel's soaked, lashes and eyebrows clumped and mused, hair drooping and dotting her forehead with little pearls. The wind, somehow, seems to become harsher, more unforgiving the closer they trek towards the cliffs.
With that harshness comes the hostility of those who watch them as they walk, men with careful eyes and cigarettes dangling from their cracked lips, women lingering like ghoulish shadows behind hooded eyes.
It is as if everyone is in on a secret that she's been gone too long to decipher.
Jacob, however, seems unaffected by the obvious crackle to the air surrounding them, his long hair cutting into Rachel's eyes when the wind tangles with it, mouth in that constant shark-toothed smile. He's gotten big. It's been eight months since she's seen her brother, but it may as well have been eight years with how starkly different Jacob appears from when he visited her in Seattle last summer- as if he's aged so much more than the tender sixteen years.
His growth spurt isn't out of the ordinary for the men in their family though if her memory is to be trusted. Their grandfather had been a huge thing of a man, casting shadows and cascading muscles. Their father had been like that too before his health declined.
They eventually make it to a more secluded area on First Beach. Only the ocean and cliffs as their companions. Rachel keeps her head down and fiddles nervously with the hem of her sweater, only quickening her pace when a man steps slowly down into the sand, puffing out thick smoke, his head following them as they pass.
They're the chief's children, after all. Grown and walking the lands passed down by their ancestors.
There's a loud bellow of excitement somewhere off to the side and much higher than where they're standing right now. Rachel draws her eyes up to the cliff's edge and gasps at what she sees. A group of shirtless boys- no, men- are huddled together egging each other on. One of them in particular is being pushed to the edge as he tries grappling the others for balance
Rachel's eyes widen in horror as she turns to face her brother, "We have to help him, Jake! They're going to push him off!" She yells over the loud crashing waves. Rachel doesn't know what she's going to do but she's making her way towards the water to shout up at the men, but a firm hand around her elbow cuts her off. Rachel turns around and squints at her brother as the wind blows her hair into her eyes like ice picks.
Jacob furrows his brows at her. "You really have been gone too long, Rach," he says, squeezing her elbow as he nods his chin up towards the cliff edge. "They aren't fighting or anything. They're cliff diving."
Rachel startles at the sound of something hitting the water and turns in time to see a dark head of hair come up from the water, bobbing above the grey waves.
"Scary as fuck, I know. Let's leave the showing off to Sam and his disciples," He says, one part amusement and another part apprehension. Jacob pulls her back the way they came and away from the cliff. "Embry used to call them hall monitors on steroids. Now, look at him."
Rachel does a double take, looking over her shoulder as more bodies hit the water. Deep voices laughing and bellowing against the walls of the cliff, carried and amplified by the ocean water.
She can't make out any of them from this distance, but she's known Embry her entire life and none of those men look at all like her brother's childhood friend. There's another burst of laughter from the water, the men below huffing taunting words at one another.
"That's Embry?" Rachel asks in bewilderment, facing Jacob as he pulls her along. The firm grip on her elbow is on the brink of painful and she tugs on her arm for him to let go. Jacob releases it without hesitance. He's gotten really strong. They continue to walk but she has to ask. "What happened to him, Jake?"
Her brother gives her a side glance, shoulders hunched as he digs his hands into his pockets. "He missed some school and all of a sudden he started following Sam around like a little puppy." Jacob says weakly, voice burdened with something she can't understand. "Same thing with Paul and Jared."
Rachel feels the burn of something faint but familiar. Like she should maybe know those names.
She knew of Sam, of course. Leah had dated him for years. The two had been engaged at one point but their relationship ended badly, she had heard the rumors of course- Sam had run off, that he had cheated on Leah with one of her cousins. When Rachel found out, she had reached for her cellphone to call her old friend before remembering they no longer spoke. Hadn't spoken in years.
And now Sam was doing what? Building a cult of steroid junkies at the reservation?
Rachel's brought out of her musings by Jacob's voice. She shakes her head to clear her mind and looks up at her brother.
Jacob swallows, the bob of his Adam's apple evident, almost as if he's hesitant to say the next words but does so anyways. "Sam keeps giving me this look, like he's waiting for me or something. It's kind of starting to freak me out." He looks afraid, bottom lip bitten into his mouth.
Guilt flushes over her. Rachel wants to whisper soft assurances in her brother's ears and tell him everything will be okay. She wants them to be little children again, spending all day hiding in blanket forts and fairytales, enveloped in familiarity instead of the heart-aching fuzz of a distant, far off memory.
"I won't let him do anything to you," Rachel says patiently and with the tenderness her brother deserves. "But, you should avoid him." She places the palm of her hand against her brother's back in reassurance, tries to be a comforting weight. Her hand warms up instantly from the heat radiating off of him.
"I'll try," Jacob says softly, face downcast. She observes her brother more closely this time, taking in the nuances of his appearance beyond the height and bulk of his new frame. He looks tired, shadows deep under his eyes, but the brightness of his smile remains, chasing any of the darkness away. She gives him a small smile in return, ruffling his hair and making him run off down the beach.
Rachel watches her little brother kick sand as he slows to a walk, waving a hand over his shoulder, signaling for her to catch up.
There's a momentary lull in volume and Rachel spares a last glance towards the cliff. She turns slowly, blinks against the howling wind. The ocean roars again, and through a spray of shaky mist, a lone figure stands at the edge, splayed like a crucifixion. It's almost haunting, frozen in time.
She doesn't breathe.
Then, the figure leaps over the edge, crashing into the water and becomes lost in the fray, another head in a sea of chaos.
Rachel presses her lips into a thin line. Her eyes gloss over in the wind, far removed from what once was, and what is going to be.
She turns to follow after Jacob.