2. Ethan
Ethan
Eleven Months Later
My car was still full of moving boxes as I pulled up to the office on the outskirts of town.
There hadn’t been time to unpack just yet since I’d arrived in town with less than twenty minutes to get to my orientation for the new job.
It was a small newspaper in a big town and it paid jack shit for wages.
But they hadn’t heard of me and my… past, so they were willing to give me a job.
And I was far too desperate to be picky.
Portland, Maine wasn’t really my ideal place to build a life.
But after everything I’d been through, it was the only choice I had left.
That night I’d lost my job, I saw a creature watching me from the woods.
It was a werewolf, plain and simple. But that moment, however exciting and validating, ruined my life.
Over the next couple of months I hit rock bottom, losing everything I had except my beater of a car.
My mom had to take me in just to keep me off the streets.
However, thanks to my lack of sleep and obsession with hunting down the creature, I drove myself until I collapsed.
After that, all it took was a doctor signing some papers to put me in a psychiatric hospital for a couple of months.
The first weeks there were some of the hardest of my life.
I blamed everyone but myself for how messed up my life was.
It took some time, but eventually I learned how to take care of myself again, how to think about something other than the monster that had killed my father.
When I finally got out, Mom helped me get my life back in order, get a job, and become a semi-normal person again.
Hell, I even got a boyfriend for a moment and remembered what it was like to be twenty-five.
But that relationship ended when I landed the job in Portland.
I wasn’t too torn up about it. We both knew it wasn’t a forever situation.
But still, it meant I was suddenly on my own again.
Living by myself meant I didn’t have anyone to check on me, to make sure I was eating or sleeping.
But I was determined to make it by myself this time.
Nearly a year of therapy had helped me realize that finding that creature wasn’t going to fix anything.
And now that I was moving to a new town, there was no way I’d run into it ever again.
As soon as my car was in park, I jumped out and darted up the sidewalk. A quick check of my watch showed that I was already two minutes late. Fuck.
The moment I pushed through the doors of the Portland Gazette, that familiar scent of paper, ink, and stressed out journalists hit my nostrils.
I breathed it in deeply, feeling my body relax.
This was what I’d gone to school for, what I’d dreamed of since I was a kid, and where I belonged. Journalism was in my blood.
I approached the receptionist's desk, my heart racing. "Hi, I'm Ethan Murphy. I'm here for my orientation?"
The woman behind the desk looked up, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh, you're the new guy. They're waiting for you in the conference room. Down the hall, second door on the left."
I nodded my thanks and hurried down the corridor, my footsteps echoing in the quiet building. As I neared the conference room, I could hear muffled voices. I took a deep breath, straightened my tie, and knocked.
"Come in," a deep voice called.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Three pairs of eyes turned to me. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair stood up, extending his hand.
"Mr. Murphy, I presume? I'm Charles Dennison, editor-in-chief. We were beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost."
I shook his hand, feeling the strength in his grip. "I'm so sorry for being late. I just arrived in town and—”
He waved off my excuses. "No need to explain. It’s just a couple minutes. Let's get started, shall we?"
I nodded, grateful for his understanding, and took a seat at the conference table.
As I settled in, I couldn't help but notice the other two people in the room.
To my left was a woman with fiery red hair and sharp green eyes that seemed to pierce right through me.
She introduced herself as Lydia Chen, the senior reporter.
Across from me sat a man with broad shoulders and a rugged jawline that made my heart skip a beat.
He smiled warmly, revealing perfect white teeth.
"Jake Harrison," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "I'll be your partner on the crime beat."
I tried not to stare as I shook his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
Focus, Ethan, I chided myself. You're here to work, not ogle your coworkers. Besides, he was easily ten years older than me. I doubted he wanted anything to do with a washed up nobody like me. Although I did notice there wasn’t a ring on his finger.
Charles cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. "Now, Mr. Murphy, I understand you have experience in investigative journalism. We're hoping you'll bring some fresh perspective to our team."
I nodded, eager to prove myself. "Yes, sir. I've worked on several high-profile cases in the past."
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I didn't want to bring up my past, especially not the case that had led to my breakdown. Fortunately, Charles didn't press for details.
"Excellent," he said, nodding approvingly. "We've got a few ongoing investigations that could use your expertise. Jake here will fill you in on the details."
Jake caught my eye and winked, causing my cheeks to flush. I quickly looked away, focusing on Charles as he continued outlining my role at the paper.
The orientation flew by in a blur of introductions, paperwork, and policy reviews. Before I knew it, Charles was wrapping things up.
"Any questions?" he asked, looking around the table.
I shook my head, still feeling overwhelmed but excited to start.
"Alright then," Charles said, standing up. "Jake, why don't you show Ethan to his desk and get him some material to take home so he can get a sense of our reporting style."
Jake nodded, rising from his chair. "Sure thing, boss."
Charles looked back up at me. “We’ll see you on Monday, Ethan.” He gave me a small grin. “And try to be on time, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded in return, standing up and shaking his hand once more. “Thank you.”
As we left the conference room, I could feel Lydia's eyes on me. When I glanced back, she was watching me with an unreadable expression. I had a feeling she didn’t like me, although I wasn’t sure why.
I followed Jake down the hallway, trying to keep my eyes from wandering to his very perky ass as he walked ahead of me. The office was mostly empty, with just a few people hunched over their desks, typing furiously.
"So, Ethan," Jake said, turning to face me as we reached an empty desk. "This'll be your spot. Not much, but it's got a decent view of the street."
I glanced out the window, seeing the busy sidewalk below. "It's perfect," I said, meaning it. After months of uncertainty, having a desk to call my own felt like a luxury.
Jake leaned against the desk, his brown eyes studying me intently. "You said you worked on some high-profile cases before. Anything I might have heard of?"
I tensed, my hand instinctively going to the scar on my neck - a reminder of that night in the woods. "Nothing too exciting," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just your typical small-town scandals, break-ins, the occasional murder here and there."
Jake nodded, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes.
"Well, you're in for a treat here in Portland. It’s a much bigger city, so we have a lot more to cover.” He grinned, giving me a playful nudge.
“Don’t let that worry you though. It’s got one of the lower crime rates on the east coast, so we’ll probably have some down time here and there. ”
I chuckled nervously, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through me at his touch. "That's good to know. I could use some downtime to get settled in."
Jake's grin widened. "Speaking of which, do you need any help unpacking? I know how overwhelming moving to a new city can be."
My heart skipped a beat at his offer. Was he just being friendly, or was there something more behind that intense gaze of his? I hesitated, torn between my teenager-like urges and my need to maintain professional boundaries.
"That's really kind of you," I said finally. "But I think I've got it under control. Maybe once I'm settled, we could grab a drink? You know, so you can fill me in on all the local hotspots. I wanna know what I just signed up for."
Jake's smile softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
But it was gone so quickly, I wondered if I'd imagined it.
"Sounds like a plan," he said, pushing off the desk. "Now, let me grab you some back issues to take home. Charles is very particular about keeping everything cohesive around here and that includes our reporting style.” He paused, holding a hand up to the side of his mouth. “He’s kind anal about… well, everything.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed like I was going to fit right in at this new paper. I allowed myself to hope, thinking that maybe I’d finally found the place where I belonged.
With a stack of newspapers in hand and a wave goodbye to Jake, I headed back to my car.
Somehow I managed to find a spot on the passenger seat stacked precariously atop a pile of boxes.
I thought they would be fine considering the car was packed tighter than a tin of sardines.
However, the moment I took my first sharp turn heading toward my new apartment, they all went toppling to the floor.
Blowing out a long sigh, I just left them where they were.
Everything had to be unpacked anyway, so they’d get cleaned up eventually.
As I pulled up to my new apartment building, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation.
This was my fresh start, my chance to prove to myself and everyone else that I could make it on my own.
But a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered doubts about my ability to stay grounded, to keep the memories of that fateful night at bay.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts.
No, I wouldn't let the past dictate my future. Not anymore. I was better than that.
The apartment was small but clean, with a tiny kitchen and a living room that doubled as a bedroom.
It wasn't much, but it was mine. I spent the next few hours unpacking, arranging my meager possessions around the space.
By the time I finished, the sun had long since set, and my stomach was growling in protest.
I was about to order Chinese takeout when I remembered the stack of newspapers Jake had given me.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I settled onto the worn couch with the pile in my lap.
As I flipped through the pages, I couldn't help but be impressed by the quality of reporting.
The articles were well-written, concise, and informative, covering a wide range of local issues.
I found myself particularly drawn to the crime beat articles, many of which bore Jake's byline.
As I read through one of his pieces about a string of break-ins in the downtown area, I couldn't help but admire his writing style. He had a way of weaving facts and human interest elements together that made even the driest police reports come alive on the page.
However, one article in particular caught my eye. It was just a short passing story by Daniel Rowe, the guy I’d replaced on Jake’s team. The article was only a few days old about some animal attacks outside Portland. However, it was the quote from a local that caught my eye.
“These aren’t just normal animal attacks… This… This is something different.”
I felt my gut twist in an instant, the words striking a chord within me.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d jumped up for a pair of scissors, cut the article out, and highlighted it.
It wasn’t until I reached the kitchen counter where the box of my werewolf attack obsession sat that I realized what I was doing.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I lifted the lid of the box barely a centimeter and slipped the paper inside.
The box didn’t control me. Those papers were not my life.
But, I did what my therapist told me to do.
Instead of treating it like my lifeline, I placed items in there whenever I caught myself slipping back into old obsessive habits.
I never allowed myself to open it though, to go through the years of collected items and fall back into my old ways.
Just having it around was enough to satiate that urge.
And I hoped, one day, that I’d be strong enough to part with it. For now though, it was going into the bottom of my closet where I would hopefully forget about it.