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Chapter 54
If he was cold, I could warm him. Hot, I could cool him. Dead, I could revive him.
I wake on the hard stones of the beach, empty and alone. The night gives way to day as the sun begins to break through in shades of orange and pink, yellow, and beyond—the lightest blue. The blood that drained from within me has dried, and I shed my clothes to wash them and myself in the ocean.
The godly strength I felt is gone, but the ocean water is not frigid against my skin. Overwhelming hunger has surfaced, but the great understanding I once had has dimmed. I'm one of them now. I can feel the need to shift inside me, but I'm scared of how it will feel; how I may change not only physically, but mentally.
My stomach thunders, furious from starvation.
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Waindale Chapter 55
Once I make it back home and dress behind the house, I come to the front and find him leaving through the front door. "Adam!" I call and hurry towards him. "Where are you going?"He takes a breath. "Good, you're back. Stay inside—my mother is on her way. She'll stay with you here.""But where are you going? Don't tell me you're going with them into the mountains.""No. I'm going to the north border to meet the group when they arrive back. I made some calls and sent Ben to the town hall.""I—okay. When will you be back?" I ask, tired of being apart. It feels like every time we are reunited, something is wedged between us, keeping us from each other. I miss the days when our biggest worry was whether or not my mom would be w
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"I never thought this day would end," Vivianne groans.I glance at her as we walk down the hallway—her, Imogen, and I all heading toward the main doors of the academy. "I got so used to doing nothing over winter break that even putting on my uniform took it out of me," Imogen says. "So how about we go to the diner and celebrate our first day back? I'm thinking burgers, fries, milkshakes—""Sorry, I can't," I say. "Adam is waiting for me.""Out front? Right now?" Vivianne asks."Yeah. He should be out there."She frowns. "What about girl time? You pretty much disappeared the entire break and came back suddenly one of us, now—"
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Sometimes I see him—his face in the darkness of the open closet or the blur of trees as we drive by. I wish I believed myself when I mutter that it's just my head conjuring such things from nothing. I wish my father wasn't capable of things beyond my imagination.It's been a year since I escaped my father and became a shifter. I thought that would be enough time to move on from it all, but I often find myself reliving the many memories I have stored away. Adam will pull me from my trance only to tell me that he's called my name twice already. He'll ask me what's on my mind like he doesn't know, and I'll wave him off as if it were nothing. We used to talk about it during the first few months, but eventually, I saw no use in repeating the same worries and nightmares. There is only so much he can do.Despite my lingering past, we are
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I didn't think towns like this existed—ones towered over by trees and drowning in blues and greens. Ones that make your hairs stand up. Ones that have pathways through the forest that lead nowhere. Ones that have a bizarre history bubbling under its surface. I thought such places existed exclusively on television screens and in the pages of my angsty, young adult novels. But as I watch it all grow in front of our car—the trees and the dull colors and the heavy clouds—I know that those creators got their inspiration from real places and not just their heads. I can't help but press my hand against the window and wish to be exploring. My eyes bounce from the dark pockets of moss and rocks and brush to the glimpses of water just beyond the forest. The chilled coast reminds me of those many little rocks. When we would visit Grandma over the summer, I would flock to the beach but hate the peb
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I take two melatonin gummies before climbing into bed. As usual, it takes a few hours for me to fall asleep, but once I am, I'm suddenly awake again.Stumbling, I grab at a near tree and stabilize myself. My vision is a little blurry, but it's night again, and I can assume what's coming. Not wanting to face the dark thing, I turn and hurry toward what must be salvation. An owl coos above me, and crickets sing below me, and the distant sound of pounding steps grows from behind. Roots pull up from the ground and tangle around my ankles. I yank my feet free and tread on. When I grab onto trees, the bark sticks to my hands. Dirt is like glue caked on my feet. The air weighs down on me. The pounding steps are louder, closer, just behind me. I fall to the ground and cry out in frustration. Everything is holding me down. Everything is on its side.
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My school bag slips off my shoulder as I walk to school on Monday morning. I haul it back up and rub my puffy eyes. My surroundings blur then slowly straighten back up, nearly making me dizzy. A car passes by then, so very loud as its tires push against the warn-down road. I can't think right now—when I try, my head starts to pound. I wander into the main school building and flinch at the sound of slamming lockers and blaring voices. The day passes slowly. At lunch, I spot Vivian and her friends. She looks as if she wants to call my name and talk things over, but before she can, I turn and walk in the other direction. I meant it when I said I was over them. Even back home—where friendships seemed so shallow and meaningless—the few friends I had treated me better. At least they tried to include me.
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