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Split Between Teeth and Tongue

مؤلف: Hallie Shoemaker
last update آخر تحديث: 2025-10-29 12:49:33

Robbie

The first thing is heat, then the kind of cold that eats the marrow, then a sound I don’t make on purpose.

I’m on the floor again. Linoleum prints into my cheek. The bulb overhead hums like a gnat that knows it can’t be swatted. My hands don’t remember how to be hands. The right one has a wrist that thinks it bends in three directions; the fingers are knives trying to grow out of skin that won’t give permission. I try to breathe slow, because slow sometimes fools the pain into blinking.

It doesn’t blink.

Bone peels. The best I can do to describe it is this: imagine your skeleton is a shirt you’ve been wearing your whole life and somebody tells it to turn inside out while you’re still in it. There’s a ripping sound you can’t hear and a lot of little snaps you can.

The Wolf loves this part. He pants happily under my ribs, tail beating at the notion of afterward. He does not acknowledge that during has teeth too.

Holland sits where I put her, wingback shoved to the corner, tape si
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    AngelThe empty packhouse they stuck me in had good bones and bad manners. Old timber, new paint, windows that eyed the main house like a jealous aunt. It was supposed to be a kindness—safe passage stamped by the Council, a “temporary residence” while they “evaluated fit.” It felt like being parked.I stood in the middle of the downstairs room where the sunlight never quite committed and stared at the box I hadn’t unpacked on purpose. Scarves, a bottle of perfume that cost more than a mechanic’s week, a copy of the Council letter that said pardoned in gold ink like forgiveness is a color. I could practically hear Remy’s voice when he’d read it, careful as a man who knows the trap in a pretty paragraph. You may stay. Behave.I behaved.Just not for them.The house kept still like houses do when they’ve been taught to keep secrets. I pulled the letter from the box and read it again for sport. The signatures looked like lace. If you held it to the light, you could see the watermark—a wol

  • I Will Find You   Choosing the Work That Loves Me Back

    HollandBy ten a.m., the rental counter had already lived three small lives and a minor tragedy. The phones flirted with ringing and then lost their nerve. A driver from one of our regular accounts insisted his box truck was “making a whale noise,” and when I asked him—politely—if he could give me the key so I could log the mileage, he gave me the whole ring like it was the keys to the city and I was a person who wouldn’t drop them. Coffee, once my good morning friend, sulked in its mug. I moved it out of my airspace and replaced it with water and a sleeve of crackers I pretended were a plan.The mark at my neck hummed soft and steady. The thin red cord Kerri had looped around my wrist made a quiet argument for luck. Inside, the smallest maybe in the world settled like a feather.I watched the glass door breathe the cold in and out and knew the thought I’d been circling had finished with me. I clicked the little “Back in 10” placard onto the counter, and took the stairs.Remy’s door w

  • I Will Find You   The Smallest Yes

    HollandI woke to the smell of coffee and wanted to cry.Not for poetic reasons—my body simply made a firm decision that coffee was a war crime and my stomach would be filing a complaint. I clapped a hand over my mouth and staggered toward the bathroom. Remy got to me before the floor did, one big palm at my back, the other gathering my hair like he’d been rehearsing for exactly this.It passed in a wave—saltwater and apology. When the sink stopped being a horizon, he pressed a cool cloth to my neck. His eyes were all winter-blue concern.“Bad?” he asked.“Enemy activity,” I croaked. “Your coffee started it.”He blinked, affronted on caffeine’s behalf and then—because he’s not dumb—went very still. The mark at my neck hummed. The world tilted not with fear this time, but with alignment. The toast craving. The night-scent sharpening. The way the house had sounded like it was counting breaths with me.“Toast?” he offered, almost reverent.“Please,” I said, suddenly, terribly sure.He di

  • I Will Find You   Running Free

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  • I Will Find You   A House That Knows My Name

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  • I Will Find You   The Vow That Stays

    RemyWe chose evening, because some decisions deserve a sky with a memory.The great room wasn’t dressed like a wedding; it was dressed like a promise. Lamps in amber glass burned low on the mantle, and someone—Kerri, of course—had set bowls of rosemary and yarrow under the windows so the drafts would carry the right kind of stories around the walls. Red twine knots hung at the four corners, protection in a language older than writ. In the center, we laid a small table with the plain things that keep a house alive: bread, salt, honey, a clay cup of water. Markings are teeth and oath, yes—but a Luna’s first duty is to make sure people eat.Only our closest came. Jacek stood to my right, easy and iron, the way a river looks just before it decides to move faster. Todd took the left, jaw tight only because he hadn’t yet let himself smile big enough to fit what the night was. Banks and Sharlotte flanked the hearth; Sean had positioned himself near the porch door like good news waiting to r

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