Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Twenty

We arrived at the Clearwater's after a long and fearful silence, my heart squeezing in fear and anxiety at the thought of being surrounded by wolves- who hate my existence. I kept my arms around me, my hands balled in loose fists to hide my sweaty palms. 

I closed the car door behind me gently and strode next to Jacob, finding myself trusting him more than the people behind the house. I would hardly call it trust, though. 

The two of us didn't walk to the front door, like I was expecting, but around to the back gate, the noise of laughter and chatter becoming louder, fueling my terror. I would have been excited, with the sun peeking through the thin clouds and the aroma of burgers and sausages on the barbecue, making the pain in my stomach double. But I was mostly maintaining myself from puking into the bushes of flourishing flowers, my anxiety becoming too much. 

"Jakey boy! Glad you could make it," a tall masculine male hollered, making me frown as I vaguely recognized him. His name was on the tip of my tongue. 

"Sam, you know I wouldn't miss out on the free food and beer," Jacob replied as I looked down at the ground not wanting to intrude on their small conversation. Did my legs look big in these jeans? Was my stomach hidden in the hoodie I was wearing? 

"What's she doing here?" a bitter female's voice hissed, throwing me out of my thoughts and into a deep pool of apprehension. I thought Jacob said they wanted me here? In suspicion, and feeling the daggers I was being sent, I thought it was an excellent time to raise my head, and when I did I was welcomed with one, two three, four... nine, ten, eleven... sixteen glares; and if I did my math right that would make it thirty-two eyes. 

My lucky day, it should have been my birthday.

"Now, now, Leah. We've discussed this." My eyes went to the male with the large smug smirk on his face. His voice was awfully familiar and I knew who it was before I could take a breath. He was the one who told me not to call the police the night before I went to Jacksonville, he was the man who was with Jacob that night when I found all the doors open, and he was the man who had been following me.

Paul.

My face must have shown my shock and panic as a roar of laughter exploded from him, causing many eyes to either stayed locked on my face or at Paul. I did everything I could not look down again, hating the negative attention. After he had settled, Jacob walked over to the beer cans while I noticed that most of the people here I didn't know, so with my shoulders hunched, I went to the table where the food and plates had been laid out. There was about the same number of placemats on the table to fit everyone and in the middle was bowls of salad, bread, and chips with a range of sauces next to them.

I had to resist scoffing them all down like a pig as an effect from my hunger, and I was successful in not picking anything. I didn't want to be the only one eating, so I would wait for when the meat was cooked and everyone was sat down. It sounded like such an easy task but the smells made it nearly impossible- it reminded me of when I was a little girl and I was learning about 'food and diets' in Biology, the period before lunch, which was unfair for everyone, the teacher included. But now, here I sat, waiting for someone to start eating so I could.

I didn't want to look like the only 'fattie' eating now, did I? 

What would they think of me?

I felt as though I had stepped into a time portal back to Charlie's funeral, where no one bothered to notice my existence. Everyone talked between them, with Billy, Sam and another, cooking with beers in their hands, a female with scars on her face talking with Sue next to the flower bed and a large game of soccer at the back of the decent sized lawn. I was relieved that I wasn't being spoken to, as they did hate me, being ignored was better than being abused.