Pressure // N.H.

{10} Strawberries and Salt

I was condemned to my house and basically my bed too.

I found it incredibly hard for me to do anything, because every time my foot stepped out of the door, I felt Niall shoving me back inside.

He was deadly serious about everything and anything surrounding all of this mess.

My eyes stared up at the blank ceiling as my thoughts barely made a strain on my brain, not wondering around at the idea that my mother is a werewolf.

I know my mother loves me but this feeling crawled up the back of my spine like she had betrayed me. And did my father know?

It doesn't seem like it the way he speaks highly of her. Maybe he knew what she was. He had to know. I thought all these creatures could distinguish each other pretty well.

Just as I was going to sit up so I could rub my eyes, a pair of heavy hands forced me back down and straddled my neck.

It felt as if it became hard for me to see so I had to use the heightened eyesight, something I haven't really mastered so well.

My eyes moved slightly as they could only pick up the dark silhouette of the figure, one that was easily unrecognizable to my sight.

There was no use of me trying to fight the person off as they laid their forearms on my chest, shifting all of their weight onto my rib cage.
My feet did flail in the air, never connecting with the person who was holding me down.

My hands, however, were very much free and I laid them on the larger ones that were still around my neck.

At first I wanted to pull them off but then I started to feel them.

As I ran my fingers down the fingers not giving a rest, I began to feel fur glide under my flesh before I ran my fingers back up the fingers, feeling each one.

Not as hairy as the wrist and palm were but the sharp nails were indeed digging in my skin, ripping it slowly apart.

The face leaned closer, still unfamiliar, but the same fur that was on its hands was sprouting out of its face and with my almost non existent breath, my nose inhaled a whiff of what it had to offer.

A very thin layer of fresh strawberries that gently laid on top of the stern wanting to murder. I could smell the saline in the dried blood that was stained on some of the fur- which was a little over two weeks ago.

My ears finally let me listen in on the exasperated breathing coming from my exhausted lungs. Words could not be voiced so I mouthed the word I knew all along.

Werewolf

"Charlie"

I soon heard Harry and before I knew it, the hands had disappeared- letting my breathing return to normal again.

"Hey wake up. Wake up"

I swear my eyes were already open as Harry shook me.

"Charlie look at me"

I looked up at Harry's emerald irises desperately want to ask for answers before I sat up looking around my room.

"You had a pretty bad nightmare" Harry muttered as my eyebrows rose.

"It was real" I said letting my fingers touched the irritated flesh on my neck. I had the feeling if I looked in the mirror then I would see deep, red hands imprinted there.

"What did you dream?"

I didn't know how to actually even speak to Harry about all of this yet. It was still fresh. My nose still smelled the strawberries.