As I said, the few times I’d tried to step in for Theresa, she had gotten mad at me, so I had long ago stopped trying.
Plus, I didn’t need to be around for what happened afterwards. I shivered, hating that my bedroom wall had been next to theirs. I had heard way too much, and the worst part was that I had never been sure how much of what went on post-fight was consensual. I knew that sounded really messed up, but something about them and how they worked just felt… off. I didn’t know what, though, because my scope on couple dynamics was so freakin’ limited. As in limited to books and movies.
I didn’t mean sex, either. I meant legitimate romantic relationships and how healthy ones were supposed to look. Unfortunately, I was well aware of the sex part. My lips peeled up, thinking about the crude things I’d been told by my father’s friends and some of the boys who were my age.
The way I’d been cornered before, even after leaving school.
The way I heard other women talking about what their mates did to them.
Sex was everywhere in my pack, and none of it was private. Which in theory would have been fine if it hadn’t left me feeling so uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had never experienced that attraction to anyone before or if it was because I felt like I was being constantly harassed by the men in the pack, but it left a dirty taste in my mouth. Maybe that was normal for relationships, though? Maybe my books were wrong? Maybe the cruel way they talked about their wives was normal. Maybe the way that the men looked at other women was normal. Or the way that the women didn’t bat a lash about them cheating… was it normal? I prayed that wasn’t the case.
I wasn’t looking for love. At all.
But I really hoped that there was more to life than that.
2
Effie Harlow
The train continued along its path, and I wondered just how far the gap was between the previous station and Kirkwall. It had been nearly ten minutes. I was both eager to get out of the train and nervous, mostly because I wasn’t fantastic with social interactions, considering my cautiousness. I always tried to see the best in people, and I didn’t want my past to taint my future, but without knowing their intentions or how they would act towards me? It was nerve-wracking.
Shaking myself from the thought, I played with a loose frayed string that came off my worn, light-colored jeans that hung a bit loose on me. My brightly colored sneakers, which I had shaded myself, stood out in comparison to the dingy train seat in front of me. I had always loved blues and purples, so I had patterned those shades across the entire span of soft material, up to where they tied around my ankle, the plastic bottom of the shoe slightly worn and the laces more gray than white. I liked to think you didn’t notice how worn down they were because of how bright I had colored them.
Now though, after seeing everyone on the train and downtown dressed in serious, dark clothes, I found myself feeling a bit embarrassed of how I looked. My clothes were not only older than I realized but were reminiscent of craft projects that I indulged in when bored in my room. My ears heated, wondering what others thought of me when they saw my colorful secondhand clothes. Probably nothing good.
I couldn’t bring myself to be actually ashamed, though.
Honestly, the memory of wandering barefoot in Chicago in the middle of January always came to mind whenever I started to feel embarrassed. The horrible memory from five years ago that still absolutely wrecked me with fear, pain, and confusion. It was one I held onto, though, because it was the starting point of my memory, making me wonder what had come before. My eyes closed as I rubbed my temples.
Blood. That was the very first scent I recognized, the copper tinge filling my lungs as I stared at the pavement under my feet. My vision was slightly blurred, and I wasn’t positive if it was from the tears streaking down my cold face or the pounding in my head. I tried to step forward, but it felt like the earth itself wobbled underneath me, my knees breaking so that I fell onto the hard surface. My body jostled upon impact.
Where was I? Why couldn’t I see straight?
Painful memories seemed to tinge my subconscious as they filtered out and made room for a demanding, static, empty space. I tried to grasp onto them, but the excruciating shocks that shuddered through me were like a shock wave. My fingers reached out to grasp something, anything, to make a connection with something other than the torment and torture my body seemed to be reeling from.
My life force was leaving me. I could feel it being siphoned out and replaced with something else. Something more than just the static blank space that seemed insistent on pushing out all else. Before I could grasp what that blank space was, ice seemed to whip me across the face as snow froze my fingers where the cement and moisture met.
Golden marble structures that played in my memories were replaced by cement and iron structures and the sounds and smells of an urban cityscape. An unfamiliar one, at that.
I wasn’t from here. I didn’t belong here. Where did I belong?
The harsh wind blew against my ears, making it impossible to hear or focus on anything but the storm that felt like it was personally surrounding me. I could barely hear the horns around me, and lights flashed as I dragged myself to standing, trying to make my way across a stretch of pavement. Yellow lines broke through the snow and ice, leading me forward in somewhat of a straight line.
There was bile in my throat as my head spun, making me wonder if I was sick. I didn’t remember being sick before, so I had nothing to compare it to… in fact, I had nothing to compare anything to. I couldn’t remember what had come before this.
The searing in my neck told me that this wasn’t normal, though. As the sound of the horns faded in the distance, I hit into a solid brick wall. I leaned against it, my shaky fingers coming up to my neck. Hot liquid squelched between my fingers as everything shuddered around me, my eyes nearly closing.
I had a feeling closing my eyes would be a very bad thing.
I think I was crying, but my body was shaking in full tremors that pushed me forward towards a large building with a warmly lit door. I could sit there. I knew I could. I just needed a minute to get out of the wind. My skin was absolutely frozen on the outside, and on the inside… I felt as though I was going through some type of metamorphosis.
Something shifted, growing inside of me as it tried to expand out. A small almost-whine broke from my throat in confusion as flashes of a white lethal predator flashed before my eyes. Fur stained in blood, a howl echoing against the night sky that featured a bright moon and freshly fallen snow. Bloodlust and hunger like I’d never felt before had me nearly passing out.
When I finally hit the building’s steps, my hand came onto the door handle, and when it didn’t open, terror took over. A clawing sensation began working itself up through my chest as my cheek scraped against the rough wooden surface. I thought I could hear voices on the other side, but as the door opened, causing me to fall forward onto the cold, hard tile of the lobby, my vision went dark around the edges, narrowing into a tunnel.
All I could see were two pairs of shoes.
One belonging to a woman, and one to a man.
Hopefully, they would help me. Something told me that it wasn’t likely.
A warmth grew to surround me as the energy that had been fighting the clawing sensation finally filtered out, leaving me in pain but feeling far more at peace. At least I wouldn’t die feeling as if I was about to explode. My sigh was authentic.