Orla is a very mercurial person.
One moment she's despising everything I represent, the other, she's crying on my shoulder like a child, listing off all her flaws that she has no hope of fixing.
I question myself if I really have to do this – seeing that my nerves weren't holding on – but every time she quivers with every silent sob, I find myself wrapping my arms tighter around her and stroking her back.
The boys have long removed themselves from this situation, taking an abrupt walk as I try to console this person.
Once upon a time, in the dark ages, I could've given zero fucks about other people, yet this time round I'm happy to have a shoulder worth crying on. So despite my irritation, I try to comfort her with soothing words.
"It's okay, it's okay," I say, interrupting her unintelligible babble..
"Woo si sho a lalaquiiiiiiiiii." Is one example of sentences I have no hope of understanding.
"Would you like some ice cream?" We don't have any, but that would give me the chance to escape this situation for a while.
She shakes her head.
I release a breath.
"Orla, listen." She hiccups. "I don't usually do this, you are an exception, now, let's try this again. What's your name?"
She hiccups again. "Orla van Doren," her voice is nasally, a squeaky tone to it.
"How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-four years old."
"Okay, what's my name?"
"Loopie."
"How old am I?"
"...sixteen?"
"Yep, now how are you feeling?"
"Depressed."
"Okay, why are you depressed?" She starts crying again and I scold her, not wanting to go back to square one.
"Cause my life suckssss!"
"Do elaborate."
"I'm the worst person in existence! And... and... and..." she didn't go on.
I heard her babble on and on about how horrible her life is the first time around already.
To list a few reasons:
She failed as an Alpha, because she doesn't have a pack anymore.
She failed as a werewolf, because she's hanging around Invalids.
She failed as a person, because even though she insulted the self-esteem out of me I still came bouncing back and helped her. She was grateful, sure, but she hated me for being such a good person.
I almost snorted at the last one. I'm not a good person, anything but. The reason I'm holding out my hand to her is because she's someone I need to fill this empty space inside of me, not because I'm a pastor.
It's how I'm functioning at the moment.
I'm selfish like that.
Nao is enough, Jamaica is enough, but the very fact that Orla threatens my mental health by leaving makes them not enough. I grip on, taking more than necessary.
I'm greedy like that.
So I hug her tight, try to show her my good part so she doesn't run away despite her prejudice against my kind.
And she clings on, which gives me a bit of hope that she will remain.
But the sudden changes of her moods are something to be reckoned with.
YOU ARE READING
Run Away With Me
Werewolf"Fishy kisses are better than kisses," I say, the words coming out of nowhere, "and like that, two people together are better than marriage." "What are you talking about?" "Nothing really," I sigh, hunching over myself more to trap the warmth, "it'...
