"How was your mother's?"
It was nice. We went out in the snow for a bit to build a snowman like we used to during Christmas vacation when we would come to visit grandma. I pretended like I was cold, and when we went inside, grandma had made hot chocolate. We watched old Christmas movies and laid on the couch with blankets and pillows and each other. It was nice. It was what I needed. They took my mind off of Adam for a little while, but when the sun set, and I was left on my own in that bedroom, he came back to me. I stared out my window like I used to and prayed he'd show up, and just like old times, he didn't.
"It was nice," I say as Adam's mother brings me inside. "Have you heard—"
"No," she interrupts. "Nothing. They haven't found him."
Adam's father is an intimidating man. He keeps to himself, is quiet, and has this certain stare that I have never seen before; it's hard but compassionate, and I see it when he looks at Adam's mother. Adam's father and I have exchanged very few words over these weeks, but that seems to be enough. Adam's mother always does the majority of the talking, even from his perspective. When he doesn't feel like speaking—which is often—she voices his opinions for him. I think Adam's father has seen many terrible things. In his stare, it seems as if he is simultaneously sifting through memories, ones that are memorable for a reason.Alexander accidentally drops his fork, and the sudden clattering sound pulls me from my trance. I must have been looking at Adam's father for longer than I thought. He doesn't necessarily look like Adam, but there are a few features that they share like thei
I prop myself up and look over to him. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, the light behind him almost holy."What more could you possibly say to me?" I ask."Are you pregnant?"Without a thought, I say, "No.""Wrenley—""I'm not. You were right, what I felt was nothing."Again he turns on the bedroom light, making me flinch. He nears the bed while saying, "My mother said some interesting things. It was implied. Did you tell her that you're pregnant?""Jesus, Adam, would you drop it? I don't need you to yell at me again about how I'm not pregnant. I didn't tell her that
I watch Adam and he lays peacefully beside me, the morning sun just beginning to rise and trickle into our bedroom. Abstract shapes of yellow sun are cast over the room, rectangles stretched on the wood floor and the cream walls, and I used to stare at them before getting out of bed. But now that Adam is here with me, I can look at him like I used to. I used to lay here and listen to his steady breaths. It wasn't often that I'd wake up before him, but with my father's power, my sleep schedule has been anything but normal.It's not a new concept to me anyway—to be awake at all the wrong times.Just as I note the pleasant silence, the bedroom door slowly opens. Ester pokes her head through, sees that I'm awake, then proceeds toward me with a tall glass of concentrated vitamins. She likes to juice things for me.
I'll do anything he wants. I'll agree to anything as long as Adam's safety is secured.Ester's voice fades with distance. The only things audible are my heavy breaths and the frantic beating of my own heart in my ears. I hurry through the trees like a blind woman guided by the hand of another, trusting in the abilities that I know will turn on me. Forest surrounds me, and just when I begin to feel trapped in the lush illusion, voices surface. I chase after them. I power through the brush until the jarring presence of my father taints the air. He leaves a trail of pollution everywhere he goes as if his presence on earth defies the laws of nature.The voices morph into words. It's Adam. I'm sure he can sense that I'm near, but I can't risk being caught by him. My father is hunting my mate, and I am hunting my father.
I think about the times he's begged me to listen. I think about the moment he held me so tightly and pleaded for me to stay alive—to hide when he says hide; run when he says run. There are things in this world that could rip me apart. There are monsters that hide in the shadows, but little did I know that I would be one of them. Adam couldn't protect me from myself, though. I was constantly preparing for the day my father would take me, yet when the time finally came I felt so blindsided. There was nothing I could do. I promised him time—I didn't know how much—but I told him that we would at least have a little. Time to have my baby. Time to plan a rebuttal. Time to say goodbye.Either I left with him, or he killed Adam.I close my eyes and imagine Adam's arms around me, remembering just how safe I felt in his hold. Re
In the middle of the library, I lay flat on my back and stare up at the intricate ceiling. Crown molding and other carvings rope along it like white vines and knot together at the center point of the roof. Aimed directly underneath it, I close my eyes and recall what I read in one of the many books I've studied from my father's collection. I couldn't find any information about teleportation or any sort of traveling similar to the mysterious vanishing he does, but I did read about astral projection, and if there's a possibility of seeing Adam again, I'm going to give it a try.I let a wave of relaxation wash over me slowly from my feet, up my legs, over my torso, down my arms and through my neck until lastly, my face relaxes as well. With steady, deep breaths I feel myself sinking into my mind, drowning until it feels like my body is melting into the floor. A sense of isolation takes over
Coughs erupt from my throat as I crawl out of the water and up the pebbled beach. My nails dig into the rocks as I heave out one last croak and collapse onto my back. The night has consumed the light of day, but the cover of dark won't hide me from him. He's coming for me, and my baby isn't safe.My chest rises and falls rhythmically as my eyes study the night sky. His voice sounds in my head, toying with me. I manage to climb further up the beach until the waves can't reach me. I don't know how far I am from Waindale, or how close I am to the mountains. The forest stands like I wall, masking the lay of the land.My growing baby eats up a majority of my father's power, but I use the rest to replenish my tired limbs. However, the longer I rest to heal myself, the more my father's looming presence devours me, stealing all forms of rationa
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.