This chapter is a bit longer. Yay. (:
I do not own Twilight or any of the characters...
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Running is endless in dreams. And this dream seemed to be going on forever. Her feet pounded the forest floor. Her hair streaming behind her. As she gasped for breath, she choked on the long, thick tresses. But she couldn't see anything. She could smell the earthy scent of trees and mud, but her entire world was one of blackness. The wind whipped around her, catching her hair in cruel fingers. It was wrapping around her neck, choking her. She could not breathe. And he was there. His face pale as snow, his eyes like topaz, his hair stark ebony against his chalk-white features.
Oscar Cullen.
Bracken inhaled with such force that a cry ripped from her throat. She woke, her eyes flicking open. Her entire body was shuddering, and her cheeks were wet. The duvet was snaked around her neck. She untangled it with quivering hands, before sitting up.
It took her a split second to place her surroundings. This was not her room in the Misty Valley Inn. It was more spacious, with a higher ceiling. The bed was larger, with an unmarked wooden frame and spotless white sheets. The curtains were drawn over the small window, but light filtered through the thin material. Bracken shut her eyes and turned over everything that she could remember in her mind.
It was Wednesday day. She knew that. And she was sure that she should be in school. Bracken groaned as something hit her. School. Fabulous. Everybody would have something else to gossip about. Bracken stretched her thin arms out in front of her. The pain was still there, throbbing dully, but it was nowhere near as bad. She scoured her skin with her eyes, and winced. The bruises had darkened from blue to near-black.
Bracken straightened up, standing on her two feet. To her absolute relief, she did not sway or fall. She peered at the clothes she was wearing. They were unfamiliar – Symone's, she suspected. She wondered whether her friend had gone to school today, and if she had, what she would be telling Cleo and all the other curious people. If it was the truth, the whole school would be convinced of her murder by tomorrow – she knew Cleo well enough to be certain of that.
Bracken ran her fingers through her tangled, still slightly damp hair. With a turn of her head she noticed her things in the corner. Somebody must have driven to the Inn and fetched them. Guilt burnt hot in her chest. They shouldn't have done that. Bracken crouched beside the bag and pulled out a few items. Everything was there. They must have paid her bill at the Inn, too.
Right at the bottom of the bag were purse, which she opened with a sense of apprehension. All her (dwindling) supply of money was intact. They had not used her money to pay. Outrage filled her. First they take her in, and then they refuse to let her pay for her own stay at the Inn. That was crossing the line. She was not a charity case.
Moodily, Bracken removed a shirt, hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans from the bag, as well as underwear and a pair of ballet-type pumps. She dressed quickly, and then busied herself with folding each item of borrowed clothing immaculately. Not sure of how good a job she had done (mostly she just shoved her clothes into a drawer rather than mess around folding them up) she laid the pile awkwardly on the end of the bed, which she then set about making. She had got better at this since staying in the Inn – as she felt she had to make her bed there, whether or not she had done at home.
She forced away the thoughts of her family. It would not do to dwell on them, not now. This was just a minor setback. Her thoughts from last night were firmly chained down like wild, feral animals. She'd be fine. Oscar Cullen couldn't touch her. There was the Webbers (though she hated to rely on them), Irisa and her family (no matter how far away they lived) and if all else failed, the police. Nothing could hurt her.
Bracken repeated those four words in her head as she quietly and nervously left the room. She peered down the landing. The rooms on either side of the room she was in – the first of which belonged to Symone, and the second to her younger sister Dahlia – seemed deserted. Bracken hurried out of the room fully, the carpet soft even through her socks. She bobbed into the bathroom to check her appearance in the mirror. She looked tired, but no longer ill or disturbed. Bracken ran her fingers through her thick blonde hair until it was fairly tamed, before leaving the bathroom and silently descending the stairs.
She padded towards the kitchen, craning her neck to see if anybody was present. There was a girl sat at the polished wooden kitchen table, reading a magazine. She wore glasses like Symone, and looked a lot like Bracken's friend. Her hair was the same dark shade, her eyes the same hue. It was only a slightly different face structure that told Bracken that it was not Symone. She guessed it was the older child in the photograph she had seen last night, and the owner of the room she had slept in. Symone's nineteen-year-old sister Angela.
Bracken wondered whether she should knock on the kitchen door, which seemed ridiculous, but she did not want to just burst in. She did not have long to dither, though, as Angela looked up from the glossy page her eyes were darting along. She smiled the same smile as Symone, and Bracken felt a little better. "Come in," Angela said. Bracken pushed open the door so that it yawned as wide as it could go, and then stepped into the gleaming kitchen.
Bracken crossed the large room and sat opposite Angela at the table. Symone's sister tucked a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her neat ponytail behind one ear, and then nodded at Bracken. She looked almost nervous, like Symone when Bracken had first encountered her. "I'm Angela, Symone's older sister," she told Bracken, obviously not realising that she had already worked out her identity. "Sym told me all about you, and what happened. Are... Are you okay?" Her eyes carried the same anxious gleam that she had seen in Symone's eyes last night. It made her want to get up and dance, or run in circles, or just do something to prove that she was completely fine, physically and mentally.
"Fine," she said simply instead, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of her sweatshirt. Angela seemed to sense her uneasiness and concealed her anxieties. "Sym's gone to school, and I have some work back here anyway..." Bracken quickly caught her meaning. She had been called upon to watch over her like a sick animal. She exhaled, feeling irritated but at the same time guilty. She was not ungrateful – she just hated to feel so useless.
Bracken's face flooded red as her stomach gave a loud and pointed growl. She hadn't eaten since yesterday at lunchtime in school. It seemed like years ago. She raised her eyes after an agonized moment, to find Angela smiling at her in amusement. "You should've said if you were hungry. Help yourself." Symone's older sister pointed out the correct cupboards, and Bracken set about making herself breakfast – though she still wasn't sure what the time was.
As she poured milk onto her bowl of cereal, she glanced up at the digital clock on the cooker. It was just past mid-day. She smirked. She'd slept for hours and hours. Poor Angela – she'd probably been so bored. Bracken sat back down at the table and proceeded to eat. When she began, she could not stop. Luckily Angela was like Symone, and did not feel the need to fill the silence with pointless babble.
As Bracken placed her spoon down into the now-empty bowl, the doorbell rang with a plaintive tone. Angela pushed her chair out and exited the room to answer it. Bracken got to her feet, intending to wash out her bowl, but halted. Guilt pressed at her – she knew she was being nosy. But as she walked across the kitchen to the sink, she couldn't help listening.
"Ange, you didn't tell me you were coming home today," came a slightly disgruntled male voice.
There was a brief sigh. "Who told you?" Angela sounded a little tired.
"I saw your dad on the way to work," said the male voice. "But I was thinking we could go out somewhere? I only see you on the weekends now, Ange. Please."
"Oh, Ben," the words were filled with dilemma. Obviously Angela wanted to go out, but felt tied down by her responsibilities. That was easily sorted out.
Bracken finished washing out the bowl, placed it on the draining board, and left the room. Angela turned around as she heard Bracken's feet on the floor. She looked guilty. Behind Symone's sister was a boy of around the same age. He had the look of somebody who had been short all of their life, but had had a growth spurt suddenly. His eyes were now on Bracken – he looked confused.
"Angela, if you want to go out, I'm not stopping you," Bracken said. Angela opened her mouth but Bracken spoke again before the older girl could utter anything. "I wanted to go up to Port Angeles anyway. I need to get a job."
"But Bracken... It's too soon, you shouldn't..." Angela trailed off, looking at Ben. Perhaps she was averting her eyes from the abruptly stony expression on Bracken's face.
"I don't need babysitting," Bracken insisted. "I'll be fine."
Angela sighed a long sigh. Bracken recognized the heavy note of defeat in the sound. "Alright, then," she said, her voice weary. She looked back at her boyfriend. "I'll just get my coat and bag, Ben."
Bracken slipped past the door to go up the stairs. She noticed Ben staring at her but chose to ignore it. She was almost getting used to it. She'd have to. People would be staring more than ever when she went back to school – which would be soon. She did not need weeks off. She was neither fatally wounded nor traumatized. At least, this was what she told herself.
Bracken ran (her limbs ached fiercely as she did so) into Angela's bedroom to grab her schoolbag. She emptied the unnecessary things like pens and books from inside, shoved in her purse, and then padded back down the stairs. Angela was stood in the hall, waiting. She still looked uncertain, but Bracken edged past her, gently shouldered Ben out of her way, and was out of the house. "I'll be fine," she assured Angela again, before turning and walking down the path.
The wind felt unexpectedly glorious on her face. It calmed her slightly churning mind. Bracken could tell that Angela was still watching her, so she walked down a straight grey path that led away from the house. Only when she was definitely out sight of the house did she phone for a taxi.
Bracken leant against a wall, blowing through her teeth as she waited. Pretty soon everybody would be leaving school, and she knew a lot of the students either lived in Port Angeles or liked to go there after school. And she really did not want to be seen, not yet.
As the taxi pulled up, Bracken told the driver her destination and paid him hastily. Her bruises screamed as she got into the back seat, but she hid the pain.
The drive was not a long one, but it provided Bracken with time to think about things. She knew she would be going back to school tomorrow. That was already certain in her head. The only thing that troubled her was her living arrangements. As much as she tried not to dwell on it, she had really disliked living in the Inn. It felt so cut off, so different. But she could not hang around at the Webbers', either. She'd already scared Symone half to death, freaked out her little sister, worried her parents and been a burden to her older sister.
Bracken decided to concentrate on getting a job, for now. She climbed out of the car as Port Angeles skidded into view. Thanking the driver, Bracken headed down a vaguely familiar street. She hoped she could remember her way from her trip a few days ago. She picked out the clothes shops she had visited, and finally, the little coffee shop in which she had first met Cleo and Symone. She entered the small building. As she pushed the door open, a bell jingled merrily.
Bracken swept the coffee shop with her gaze. There was a mother with two young children, who had chocolate smeared around their mouths, an elderly man, and a younger business-like man. Instead of sitting down, Bracken headed straight for the counter. She recognized the slight girl with tight blonde curls, who had served her when she had last been here. Bracken's eyes darted to the badge pinned to her apron. It read 'Maisy'. The waitress smiled at Bracken, her pale face managing to look bright. "Hello there. What can I do for you?"
Bracken shuffled her feet for a moment. "Well, I was wondering if you had any jobs going?" she asked nervously. Maisy's face broke into an even larger and far more genuine smile.
"Well, we have been looking for some more waitresses'," she told Bracken. "The shop used to be my mother's, but she left town, you see, and left it all to me and my sister, Cassie. So I serve, Cassie bakes." Bracken nodded as Maisy explained. "But it can be a bit hard, when it's crowded in here."
"I'm interested in working here," Bracken said, feeling a little less awkward. Maisy was one of those people who were just easy to talk to.
"What days can you do?" Maisy asked.
"Weekdays, but only afternoons, because I have school," Bracken said. "Or weekends, any time really."
Maisy blinked, thinking. "Well, we're most crowded on Monday, Thursday and Saturday, the market days," she said tentatively.
Bracken nodded. "That'd suit me," she said.
Maisy smiled again, holding out her hand. "Well then, welcome to the team, er...?" She laughed as she realised that she knew nothing about Bracken.
"Bracken. Bracken Moore," she told Maisy. "I go to Forks High School. I'm a junior. I moved here because of... Of... Family problems." She settled for the half-truth, not wanting to go into details.
"Oh. Well. That's fine, then," Maisy nodded, her curls bobbing up and down. "So, I'll see you on Monday?" It seemed she wanted to give Bracken some time to adjust. Bracken shook her head.
"Would it be alright if I started tomorrow?" she asked, sounding uncertain.
Maisy giggled. "Well, if you want to," she said.
From a partially hidden door somewhere behind Maisy, another woman appeared. She was young like Maisy, and looked a lot like her. In fact, their facial features were utterly identical. But Cassie's hair was jet black, and pulled back into a ponytail. She had a fringe which was pinned back, too. Bracken stared unintentionally, her hazel eyes taking in the odd sight.
Maisy burst out laughing. "Cassie and I are twins, but you wouldn't think it, would you?" she chuckled, touching her tight blonde curls.
Cassie folded her arms and scrutinized Bracken. "Who're you?" she asked. Maisy slapped her arm lightly, though the words didn't sound rude to Bracken.
"Cass! This is Bracken," Maisy explained. "She's our newest employee."
Cassie blinked. "Maisy, are you sure?" she asked, frowning a little.
Maisy rolled her crystal blue eyes and nodded vigorously. "Yes, I'm sure!"
Cassie seemed to deliberate for a short amount of time. She then held out her hand and shook Bracken's. "Then welcome to the team." She smiled, but her face did not light up quite like her sister's. Her smile was smaller, holding more intelligence. Bracken felt as though she had just found out that the radiant sun and mysterious moon were siblings.
"So, four 'o clock, then?" Maisy asked Bracken.
"That's fine," Bracken said. "I'll see you then."
She turned and left the shop, with Maisy's birdlike goodbye's echoing from behind her. Outside, she inhaled at length. That was one problem sorted, but it flung several more at her. She would have to catch a taxi to Port Angeles three days a week. That would be expensive. She needed her own car. But then, she needed a place to stay, too. Life wasn't perfect.
As Bracken was walking down towards where a taxi was parked, she spotted Poppy Ratterford and her twin, Finlay. The sandy-haired siblings were talking animatedly. Bracken quickly ducked behind a bin, feeling completely ridiculous. She stayed there, holding her breath, until a voice hit her ears as hard as any hammer.
"Bracken, what are you doing down there?" Bracken looked up into the freckled face of Finlay. She got up quickly, smiling falsely.
"I... I dropped something," she said hastily, aware of how obvious her lie was.
"Symone Webber said you were in an accident or something," Poppy said in a hushed voice, her eyes wide.
Bracken blinked. "Well, I'm fine," she said lamely. She glanced at the taxi. Soon, somebody else would jump in before she had the chance. She headed towards it, waving awkwardly at Poppy and Finlay. "Well... I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"
She quickly opened the taxi door and sat down before either of the twins could question her further. She told the driver Symone's house number, though she was not entirely sure it was correct. As the taxi slid off down the road, she spotted the siblings watching her apprehensively.
Bracken laid her head back on the seat, exhaling through her nose, relieved to have escaped any really horrible questions. She felt guilty that she had left Poppy and her brother so abruptly – they were nice enough. But her fears had been confirmed. Everybody knew. Or at least, they would do, by tomorrow.
Bracken was glad to see that she had indeed got Symone's house number right. She paid the driver and walked up the path, ringing the doorbell. The door was answered by Symone. "You're alright!" Her friend sounded anxious.
"Yeah," Bracken replied. "I only went to Port Angeles, not war." She smiled at Symone.
"I know, Ange said, I just..." Symone trailed off.
"Worry too much?" Bracken suggested.
"Yes," Symone agreed, flushing.
She let Bracken in. Bracken proceeded to tell her friend about the job she had secured in Port Angeles, and her car worries. Symone said she would ask her father whether he knew any cheap places to buy cars.
They spent an hour or so discussing their days. Bracken was dismayed to know that Cleo had found out about her 'accident', and subsequently, everyone did know. Symone then distracted Bracken by telling her that Alex and Cleo had had a messy break-up that lunchtime. Bracken couldn't help smiling secretly, if not a little guiltily. Symone shyly mentioned a boy named Daryl in her drama class who had talked to her today. The only problem was Cleo liked him too.
Bracken found herself successfully lost in Symone's worrisome day, until a loud voice called from down the stairs. The girls looked up; Symone sat on her bed, Bracken lying on the carpet. "Dinner's ready!"
Bracken felt faintly embarrassed as she sat down next to Symone at the table. On Symone's other side was Dahlia. Across the table from Bracken was Angela. Symone's parents sat beside her.
Bracken concentrated on eating, feeling out of place. But when Symone brought up her car problems, Bracken had to look up. She couldn't help flushing a little.
"Hmm... Places to buy cheap cars..." Mr Webber's brow wrinkled as he thought.
"Don't worry about it, Dad," Angela interrupted. "I still have my old car, y'know, from when I was at school?" Mr Webber looked at her. "Bracken can have that. I don't want it, and Sym uses Mum's car."
"No, you don't have to do that," Bracken blushed at the thought.
"Well, the offer's there if you want it," Angela said with a smile.
"Ange has a new car now, you see," Symone explained.
"And you just use mine all the time!" Mrs Webber smiled at her daughter.
"Mum, you work five minutes down the road. You don't need a car!" Symone replied.
Bracken looked awkwardly at Angela through their petty bickering. "Um... Well. Thanks."
Angela smiled. "No problem."
Bracken hated the fact that she found gratitude hard to show at times – and this was one of those times. She went back to eating her food.
That night, Bracken laid a calmer, more level head down on her borrowed pillow. Angela had gone over to Ben's house for the night, which meant that Bracken could remain in the same room. She sighed. At least some things were sorted. She had a job, and her own car.
Bracken had intended to think things over more thoroughly, but as she shut her eyes to aid her concentration, tiredness washed over her like black silk. Before she knew it she was asleep.
And tonight, no nightmares haunted her.
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Please review if you read this! I hope you like it!
And special thanks to ste11una, who gave me the muse to continue with this! =]