~BOOK 2~ Paranormal: A Lycan's Fearful Past (Multi-Bandom FanFic)

Chapter 23 - Rachael

I was standing in my bedroom, folding clothes and tossing them boxes. The curtains were taken down and the sheets on the bed were missing. The pictures and decor that previously lined the walls had all been removed. Patrick passed by the opened doorway and stopped in his tracks, retracing his steps and standing in the threshold. "You know, you can just snap your fingers and get that done in a second."

"I like doing things the hard way," I grumbled, picking out the witch costume I'd worn in college and folding it up, throwing it in with the other clothes, "Shouldn't you know that by now?"

"Just cheer up, Rach. We're getting a fresh start, something you and I both know we've needed for a long time."

"Yes, and it took us having my friend die and be revived only to be put into a coma to realize that." I pulled off another piece of clothing from one of the hangers in the closet, this one a black and white striped jacket with red handkerchief pocket.

"I'm sorry, but Kenya knew what she was doing."

"She didn't know she was going to die," I snapped, quickly folding up the article of clothing and tossing it into a new box, "Just like we didn't know what we were up against, ultimately leading to our loss. And now we're leaving, like a bunch of cowards."

"Rach, she'll be fine and wake up surrounded by her pack and people who care about her." Patrick carefully approached me. "We need to move on to a new town, where there are new people and where there are no wars for us to fight in."

"That's what we always do," I muttered, turning away from him and taking out the next hanger, which held a gladiator's costume, "Move on. Maybe I don't want to move on. Maybe I just want to stay here, live my life like I have been." I tore the outfit off the hanger and handed it to Patrick to put away.

"You don't mean that. You don't want to live in a place where everyone is constantly at each other's throats." He took his costume into his possession and looked at it for a little before adding it to the rest of his clothes. "I know you like New Orleans, but this isn't the right place for us."

"No, it's just not the right place for you, ever since you almost exposed all of us when you ate that poor child last year...you know his mom's still looking for him, right?" I glanced over at him. "She's come by a few times, asking if we've seen him, showing me a picture of him. He was such a cute kid, kind of reminds me of-"

"Don't you dare," Patrick interrupted me, "Don't you fucking dare bring her up."

"Why? She's just another example of us moving on when we shouldn't have."

"We're not having this conversation. We're packing the rest of our things and leaving. Because we're moving on, Rachael, end of discussion." And with that, he stormed out of the bedroom.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!" I screamed after him, though I knew he didn't hear me. I kicked one of the boxes and spun around, my heart nearly stopping when I noticed Brendon standing on the opposite side of the room. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was tilted to the side.

"I fucking hate him too," He commented, unfolding his arms and stepping towards me, "But then again, I've always hated Patrick."

"I didn't mean what I said," I murmured, "I'm just upset with him, that's all."

"No, you're tired of him controlling you." Brendon pointed out. "It's sad how Patrick and his friends basically control you."

My cheeks grew a deep shade of red. "No, they don't control me. They're just looking out for me, as I'm looking out for them."

"Keep telling yourself that." He smirked. "Have you gone to see Kenya?"

"No, Patrick wouldn't let me. He told me it'd only make things harder than they already were."