𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄'𝐒 return to La Push, Washington was meant to be spent in tranquility. A space outside of white rooms and beeping machines. A space where she can dive into the reminiscence of her care free childhood. However, her life fl...
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𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄, Cecelia lays in the comforts of her bed, staring at her ceiling. She began to recall every memory from last night and the past week, trying to make sense of it all. Time used to move so slow to her, all she knew the past few years was routine. Routine checkups, chemo, blood draws— and after one week of moving back to live a "normal" life, she finds herself in a werewolf love story.
Quite frankly, she's tired of it. All she's ever wanted was a normal life. She wants to be an average gal, living in an average routine, in an average mundane world. She's tired of never being able to take a break. She's tired of everyone telling her to be optimistic, she's tired of being optimistic. Maybe in a different life, she'd be able to celebrate. Her childlike wonder would've been ecstatic to be best friends with werewolves. The same werewolves she grew up hearing about before she left the reservation. Wolves whose blood laced with the ancestors of the tribe and became a protective gene passed down to ensure the safety of the people. Wolves that were handpicked to stand as the pride of the tribe.
Wolves. How absolutely ridiculous. Sure, let there be the existence of incurable diseases. Diseases so detrimental to one's health, that not one cure exists. But werewolves? Easy, do it. Meanwhile, the gods' plan for a cure is an empty folder at the bottom of the pile. It's almost concerning how little fear she has over the revelation. She's mostly annoyed, peeved that no matter what she does, she manages to worm herself into the worst-case scenarios. To be frank, she's unsure if this is a worst-case scenario. This scenario was never something she expected. How could she have not expected it? Surely they had to have left some hints. Sure she was practically raised in a hospital but she wasn't stupid. She learned fractions three hours before her fourth surgery and solved a problem in seconds as she underwent the anesthesia. What else was she supposed to do aside from studying and diving into books, when you're stuck in a hospital room, there are little to no other options.
The girl suddenly sat up, her ceiling no longer enough to plate her thoughts. She pulled out her notebook from her desk and sat down. Ripping a cap off one of her pens she began to jot every odd observation she skimmed over in the past three days. Three days. How could this all have happened in three days? Did the universe really want to screw with her so bad that it gave her an Armageddon that blew up in her face within just three days of achieving normality? Her pen was practically ripping through the paper with her aggressive writing. She noted the matching tattoos, the amount of consumption they could intake, everything. She needed to know everything.
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Cecelia was tired by the time Monday came around. She spent her entire weekend sorting through her uncle's books and going in and out of the local library. When she wasn't doing that, she was contemplating. She could've made the research lightweight if she talked to the elders or the other boys about it, but she couldn't risk it. Things were going to be different, she knew it, felt it. What are the chances that Quil was the only one who found out? Coming into school she tensely ignores the five pairs of eyes trained on her. Jared, Paul, Jacob, Seth, and Kim all looked like they wanted to say something to her. But one glance at them was all it took for Cecelia to realize, that not only does she know their secret, but they know hers too. The looks in their eyes swam with sadness and sympathy, something Cecelia wanted to avoid. She hated that look, that's all she got at the hospital. She doesn't need another reminder of her illness in the eyes of her supposed friends. And when Kim tried to come up to her with stuttered words, Cecelia simply shook her head and walked away.
