Chapter 24
THE REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR is a far cry from the person I know.
The person who stares back is a shell of himself, drowning in the deepest pits of misery, every ounce of pain he's been withholding captured in his disheveled appearance. His hair is unkempt and neglected, tousled from incessant tossing and turning throughout the night.
That boy doesn't give a rat's ass about presentation at the moment. The motivation he rolled out of bed with to keep his mind occupied, away from darker, unwanted thoughts vanished the second his feet hit the mat.
His nose is red and stuffy. He sniffles to prove his point. His eyes are rimmed red, puffy from too many fallen tears, from a wakeful night, pondering the meaning of life. Add in the dark spots beneath his green eyes that look half dead.
I look like hell chewed me up and spat me out.
Feel like it too.
I spent the better part of last night wondering why I bother carrying on. There's no motivation to go to school, to pretend like all is peachy with the world, to attempt to write any of my exams.
I'll see him there. There's no doubt. We have exams together.
I'm not ready to face him after last night, after he said those horrible words that still confuses me twice more than the pain that followed.
I can't be around him when all I wanted last night as he walked me back to the cottage was to give in, tell him the truth, my dark secret, and beg him to stay beside me.
None of it matters anyway. Not the way I feel about him. Not school, not those stupid exams.
It's not like I'll live to see graduation.
I started school a year later than intended because the cancer returned for the second time after five years. When treatments were successful, my parents enrolled me in school. Had it not been for starting school a year later, I would be graduating instead of moving into senior year.
None of that matters now. I beat the cancer twice before but this time, we're in the final stretch. I won't graduate, won't start college. I won't get to do anything I want to so, what's really the point of...well...anything?
The years of schooling.
The social status and friendships?
It's all for nothing.
The incentive to lie down and mope is strong. I don't have it in me to fight those feelings of utter hopelessness at my situation so, I do the only thing I can. I go back to bed, pull the covers up to my nose and curl up, hoping I can close my eyes and never wake up again.
That way, I don't have to keep being this way.
I don't have to suffer.
I don't have to wonder about what it could've been like.
I don't have to think about my broken heart or the only boy I've ever loved whose heart I shattered with selfish desires.
Instead, that peace I seek behind closed eyes evades me.
I'm bombarded by images of last night. The way Sky looked at me, the intense desire that shadowed his face and stole my breath.
The tingling sensation of his lips on mine, his hands holding me closely – protectively.
The strong press of his hard body against me, his warmth, and everything about him that I can't get enough of.
Fuck!
I can't believe I've done something so incredibly, irrevocably stupid. I kissed him. I actually kissed him.
It doesn't bother me that my affection is reciprocated, that he returned my kiss with such need and passion. It bothers me that I wanted it.
I wanted it so much, so badly. But it isn't fair. Not to Sasha, not to him.
They both deserve better than me. Seriously, how am I supposed to face either of them?
How do I look at my girlfriend after I kissed someone else?
How do I face Sky after I broke his heart?
The pain won't go away no matter much I will it away, no matter what I think about. My mind returns to him. Existing in this constant state of heartbreak, I'm surprised I'm still conscious. Is it even possible for one heart to so much yet remain alive?
I hate feeling this way.
Emotional about my situation and helpless to anything except mope and cry about it. Mourn the places I will never visit, the things I will never try. Mourning the life I had mapped out but won't get to live, let alone experience the love that slipped through my fingers last night.
My eyes burn with the sting of tears. It takes pure willpower to not let them fall but when the muscles in my right leg starts spasming and then goes numb, rendering me partially paralyzed for the time being, I give up on pretending to be strong.
Seconds turn into minutes. I'm not sure how long I lie there wallowing in self-pity, loathing myself and the twisted cruelty of the world.
Feeling just about begins returning when there's a soft knock on the door.
Immediately, I turn under the covers, my back facing the door. I pull the covers tighter, rushing to wipe away the tears when the soft pad of bare feet cross the threshold.
The bed dips with Mom's weight, her warmth scent mixed with her favorite lavender perfume and pomegranate-scented body lotion enveloping me. The realization of how badly I need my mom right now shakes me to the core.
"Sweetheart," she calls, soft. Gentle. Her warm palm rests against my shoulder beneath the blanket. "I know you're awake."
Miserably, and with great reluctance, I turn, pulling the covers up to keep most of my face hidden. I don't want her to know I've been crying. That I haven't slept. She'll take one look at me and know I'm the furthest from okay.
Mom tugs on the blanket. "Sweetie, look at me, please."
"I don't want to."
"Jace."
Slowly, I slip the blanket down my face. The second she glances my puffy red eyes, the tiredness they fail to conceal, concern shadows her features.
"Oh, sweetheart." Mom spreads her arms and without needing to hear another word, something inside me shatters. I'm no longer the boy taking the world head-on, smiling through the turmoil of my life and putting on a mask of strength I've failed to feel almost every day for the past year.
Once more, I'm that vulnerable little boy who, at five years old, wept bitterly inside a hospital ward afraid to left alone with the doctors, their scary needles and machines filled with drugs they said would help me.
Suddenly, I'm that scared little child who clung to his dad, begging to be protected.
Though I'm a whole head taller than her, and I dwarf her in size, I still crawl into her lap. She holds me like she did when I was small, my face buried in her shoulder as she rocks me side to side.
The tears keep coming. She doesn't seem to care that I've soaked her shoulder.
Mom doesn't say a word. She just holds me, letting me cry until there are no more tears to be spent.
"This isn't only about the doctor's visit, is it?" she asks, thankfully breaking the heavy silence that's beginning to feel too much to bear.
When I'm quiet, she rubs my shoulder, peering down at me. A small sigh escapes her lips.
"I know what heartbreak looks like. Is it about Sasha?"
Yes and no. In part, anyway.
I want to laugh. How horrible am I that it's not my girlfriend and how she might react to learning about my condition that occupies my mind? Rather, my thoughts and heart are filled with someone else.
I really am a piece of shit.
"Are you going to tell her?"
"I haven't figured that out yet."
She deserves to know the truth. The whole of it but I don't even know where or how to start.
Mom sighs. "Do you want to skip today? I'll notify the principal –"
"No," I say, sitting up and rearranging the blanket, shoving it off my body now that she's seen what the hell my face looks like. "I'll go. Maybe I'll talk to Sasha as well."
Mom cups the side of my face. "I am so proud of you.
Of everything you've accomplished, the person you've become, and how you continue fighting no matter what obstacles you face.
" She leans forward to press a kiss on my forehead and then she's up and moving toward the door. "Call me when you get to school."
"I will."
Her departure is signaled by the soft click of the door closing. Reach for my phone, I tap the screen twice to wake it up, the digital clock widget reading 7:37AM.
I have one final carded for today after lunch. I have no motivation to get to school earlier than needed, to see people, be around them, force myself to pretend like everything is okay when my life is in shambles.
I have no intention of facing either Sky or Sasha before figuring out what I would say.
Gosh. This is going to be a long day.
SLEEP CONTINUES TO EVADE ME. After half an hour passes and I fail to drift into a dreamless state of unconsciousness despite the heavy tug on my eyelids, I slip out of bed for a long shower, soaking in cold water until the sting of it chases away all fatigue and shitty feelings.
I make a cup of coffee for extra measure, downing it after two of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Mom kept wrapped in paper towels on a plate in the microwave for me.
Attached to the plate is a little sticky note in blue, Mom's neat handwriting scrawled over it in pink gel ink: Stay strong and murder those exams today!
P.s. Making your favorite chicken-stuffed pasta shells with tomato sauce for dinner. Love, Mom.
Her note brings a smile to my face. I find another sticky note on the counter with Dad's less neat handwriting scrawled over it in a ballpoint pen.
Years of being familiar with his terrible handwriting, the kind doctors are often known for, it's easy as pie to read the message: Don't think about it too much.
We'll get through this. Focus on your exams, call if you need anything.
By the way, I'll be in Valley Heights for a conference.
I'll buy that chocolate cake you like. Love, Dad.
Ah, my parents spoil me!
Putting Mom's note with Dad's, I grab my phone and headset and slip out through the sliding doors to the back of the cottage, plopping onto the landing, my feet planted firmly on the step below.
Using the cottage's Wi-Fi connection, I pull up my social media and start scrolling, heading to the school's dedicated social media pages that are used by students to spread gossip and drama.
Brent and Katy broke up again.
I hope they stay broken up for good and he finds someone who can actually straighten him out. Someone who will set him down the right path. Maybe he'll find someone who'll reach the part of him he's so adamant to hide.
Blake found a new girl to fool around with. There's a picture of him necking some brunette girl against the lockers. A few people tagged Alex Peters in the post. Whether she saw it, there's no indication since she hasn't interacted with it.
I still don't know what's the deal with him and Alexa Peters. One minute, it seems like he's into her, the next, he's not, while she doesn't seem to be interested in him at all. Theirs is a complicated story but I know they have some kind of history.
Carter and Kelly aren't fighting anymore.
So far, I see nothing about me or the break-in from yesterday. It appears no one at school's heard about it yet, apart from Sky's friends. I haven't told Sasha or Ashton. Between not wanting to worry them and the whirlwind of yesterday, I haven't gotten the time.
I have a ton of missed calls and messages from both of them. I haven't replied to any. I can't. I don't know what to say, or how to begin breaking the news to them.
So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours that it feels like my brain hasn't caught up.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I walk down the steps onto the path that cuts away from the cottage, leading deeper into the woodland. I don't know this place at all so I'll stick to the path and stay within range where I can see the cottage.
But I need to clear my head. Get away from the depressing thoughts and start thinking about what I'll say to Sasha and Ashton for worrying them, bracing myself mentally and emotionally for when I see Sky again.
Because I will see him at some point.
Basking in the quiet ambience of the woodland, it's pin-drop silent out here the deeper down the path I go, farther away from the cottage.
I'm still on the path but soon enough, the cottage disappears from view, blotted out by the tall trees and shrubbery between.
The air is fresh – cool. It's rejuvenating in a way that uplifts me, the light morning breeze a gentle caress against my cheeks and in my hair.
The heavy earthy scent of damp soil and dew reaches my nose, the sunlight breaking through the canopy and trees soft on my skin.
The quiet is hardly interrupted, small animals like squirrels skittering across the pathway and up the trees. I trip over a tree root, losing my balance for a moment watching a squirrel scamper up into a nearby tree.
I walk further, pausing briefly to watch two more squirrels scamper up a tree. They perch on a low-lying branch, chittering animatedly and washing their faces before climbing higher.
I'm almost envious of them. They know what they have to do. Set in a routine catering to their survival in the wild, I almost wish it could be that easy for people. Instead, a lot of us go day after day, some never find a purpose.
Others battle demons and sicknesses that take more life than we have to offer.
Lost in the train of thought, I shake my head, snapping back to reality. Taking a deep breath in, it gets stuck as I suddenly freeze into place, every muscle locking up.
All thought flees in a second, a terror wrapping around my spine, clamping my feet to the earthen ground.
My eyes go wide and I forget everything.
Standing only a few trees away is a wolf.
Tall, menacing, all black, its eyes peering back like a predator that's just found the perfect prey. The wolf growls softly, teeth bared and saliva dripping. It stalks forward at a slow pace, footsteps certain.
I'm locked in a staring contest with this beast, unsure of whether I should remain absolutely still or make a run for it.
Would I make it?
Also...why did no one warn me that there are wolves in this area?
I did not venture that far into the woodland. Didn't cross over into a place I shouldn't because there would be signs, fences...or something.
Surely.
Oh shit!
The growling grows in volume, the wolf closer now than it was before. Its approach is slow as if it doesn't want to risk scaring me off too quickly. My heart rate accelerates, blood rushing to my ears. My breathing is ragged – fear piercing me like the a from a sniper's gun.
The wolf snaps, barks, saliva flying everywhere.
Fuck it! I'm not dying like this.
I run. Breaking into a sprint, my feet take me away in a different direction. Cursing into the air for that particular bout of stupidity, I turn right trying to get back on the pathway, but the wolf is too close.
Just run!
I do. I run as hard as I can, not caring which direction I'm heading in. The only thing that matters is getting away from that wolf and hopefully running into someone or breaking out into some part of this gated community where there are people.
The wolf's paws pound the ground behind me, advancing faster than I can get away. Sharp teeth nip at my pants sending me tumbling. I slip, sliding down a short drop, the broken off edge of a tree root scraping my arm.
I scramble up, glancing back only for moment to see the wolf at the top of the drop, pacing back and forth. It watches me in a way that unnerves me because it doesn't feel like I'm staring at some wild animal.
There's an intelligence swimming in those eyes. It's cold and calculated. Intentional.
The wolf snarls, jumping down the drop. I'm out of there before it lands, the pressure in my muscles building, the pain in my chest increasing – burning with exhaustion and lack of oxygen.
Adrenaline soars, pushing me harder, the threat of death, of danger, hanging over my head.
I spot a large tree up ahead, its branches wide and thick. The lowest hanging one is just within reach, low enough that I can haul myself up and out of danger at least until the wolf gets bored and leaves.
Suddenly, there's a commotion behind me.
A vicious growl and snarl, a sharp, pain-filled whimper and squeal, and something collides with the woodland floor with a heavy thud.
Chills sweep over me, every hair on my arms standing on end as I go crashing against the tree, my legs shaking and twitching with exhaustion. I turn, breathing heavily, frightened out of my mind.
There is no longer one wolf. There are two of them.
Both covered in black fur, the second one that came out of nowhere twice the size of the first. They're caught in a brutal fight, the larger one – a male, I realize – barrels into the other one.
The smaller one topples to the ground, jaws snapping, going for the male's throat when he advances.
He moves out of the way, coming up behind the smaller one as it rolls – a female – clamping his jaw down on her throat.
The female whimpers, thrashing and growling as she's pulled away.
My heart in my throat, instinct kicks in. I slide around the tree, keeping both wolves in my line of sight before hightailing it in the opposite direction, back up the slight incline. I trip once, fingers grabbing at dirt and tree roots, hauling my body over the top of the drop.
I'm nowhere near as far away as I need to be when a large shadowy figure blurs past in my peripheral vision. Fear pushes forth tears that sting my eyes.
My heart practically leaps out of my throat in a raw scream.
The male is running less than a few feet away.
It veers right, forcing me around. A guttural cry tumbles out at the sound of a vicious snarl from somewhere on my right, closer than I care to admit. There's another snarl from my left and the male veers closer.
There's a collision behind me, a whimper, a sickening crack and crunch, and a stomach-turning thud.
I don't stop for anything. Not for a moment.
Crashing through bramble and shrubbery, I spill out onto the familiar path. Up ahead, through the several trees blotting it out, I catch a glimpse of the cottage peeking through like a beacon of hope.
A cry of relief tumbles out, but it's more than I expected because my knees give out. The adrenaline dissipating this close to safety, my body begins giving out. I crumble onto the pathway, breathing heavily, gasping for air, crawling some of the way when suddenly, I go rigid.
The soft rustle of bramble and grass sends a chill rocketing through my body. Soft padding of large paws grow close and then stop, disappearing beneath the animalistic rumble of a creature that's breathing too heavily.
Whipping around, intelligent blue eyes – bright, yet somehow familiar – peer down at me out of a powerful mass of thick black fur. The male towers over me, inquisitive in its stare down.
Breathing hard, I back away slowly on my elbows and feet, mindful never to look away. When there's enough distance between me and that creature, I slowly, careful, get to my feet.
I'm about to bolt. Turning, my legs give out but I don't hit the ground.
Instead, coarse black fur and a powerful, warm body catches me, nestled under my arm to my side. Electrical zaps tingle across my skin, erupting like fireworks in an open sky. The male growls softly, heavily, staying glued to my side, unmoving.
It takes me some time to wrap my head around it, but soon enough, I realize that the wolf doesn't mean any harm to me. He stays glued to my side, just letting me use him as a crutch.
Slowly, I take one step forward, ready to move away. Exhaustion sweeps over me, the muscles in my leg spasming. Before I can fall, the wolf is there again, his body pressed to me. I grab onto its fur, careful to keep my grip loose enough before I hurt him and he decides to take a bite out of me.
Step by step, I shuffle forward, my breath slowly evening out, the male keeping time with my pace. When the cottage comes fully into view, I step away and limp forward, the soft padding of the male's paws against the path quiet, but still there.
When I'm at the steps, I take a chance to turn around.
He's still there, seated now, his fluffy tail curling around his legs. His ears are perked in curiosity, those strangely familiar blue eyes peering at me with a kind of intelligence unbecoming of such a creature.
Awkwardness sets in.
"Uhm...thanks? I guess..."
The male blinks, tilting his head. He stands, massive and taller than I expect of any wolf, he stands at nearly six feet.
Holy shit! They do grow this huge.
The wolf steps closer, lowering his head, sniffing my hand. Instinctively, like with all puppies, dogs, cats, and anything remotely cute, I lift my hand, palm open, suddenly desperate for this thing to like me so I can pet it.
The wolf sniffs my open palm, looks back at me, and reluctantly touches his nose to my hand. Little zaps jolt through me from the point of contact, strange, yet frighteningly familiar. I touch his snout, run a hand on the side of its head.
It rubs the top of its head against my palm, purring softly.
Wolves can purr!
It licks my palm and circles me, brushing its side against me.
The wolf's strange behavior makes me laugh because it's an oddly domesticated move for a wild creature.
Brushing my fingers through the thick fur on his back, the wolf rubs his head against my shoulder and moves away.
It looks back once before sniffing the path, stepping through bramble and shrubbery, disappearing into the woodland.
Relief sweeps over me, so heavy that it leaves me disoriented. Feeling out of sorts. Wondering just how much stranger this week can get.
On quaking legs, I grip the railing and clamber up the steps, shuffling inside, checking and double checking that the sliding doors are firmly secured. I barely make it to the couch when my vision starts to swim and spin and I black out.