Fighting the Wolves

Chapter Twenty Two

I'm a mix of emotions. Just like the rest of the human race. (Which I am mostly ashamed to be a part of)
Most of the time I consist of severe quantities of depression and anxiety. Surprisingly, at the moment, I am neither.
Currently, I feel more excited and terrified. Which I suppose could become a form of anxiety if you really think about it.

And I have.

But I guess that's just me. One large ball of an anxious mess. It never ceases to fail me in any situation of my unfortunate life. Even when I try my best.

When you try too hard and you don't succeed...

I think the stronger emotion at this moment is terrified, especially as we enter Jackson's home. I'm hit with a cool breeze of air conditioning as we walk through the doorway, Jackson closing the front door behind us.
For some reason the sound of the door closing makes my heart race more than it was before we entered.

I might have a heart attack.
Wouldn't that just be great right now.
Maybe it would calm, my nerves. Joking.
Maybe it would calm everything if it killed me.
People survive heart attacks though.
Damnit.

I take in the atmosphere of the foyer; A coat closet to my right, a winding staircase to my front, a hallway diagonally from me, and the living room to my left.

Jackson gently tugs my arm, causing my feet to move with his as he leads me down the right hallway. We emerge into a large open concept from the kitchen, to the dining room, and finally the family room. Jackson leads me to a comfy looking chair, telling me he'll be right back.

I sit down quietly, looking at my surroundings. It's quite cozy, although it looks like it belongs in an HGTV home catalog.
Slowly, I get bored with staring at random decorations, and begin to midlessly stare at the wall. I don't know how, but I'm transfixed. My eyes stare, unblinking, until the whites of my eyes blur with the neutral colored wall.

After who knows how long, I forcibly tear myself away from the mind numbing activity. I'm not sure how long it's been, I'm not exactly a very patient person. So with tired legs, I stand from the chair and begin my exploration of the Miller household.

What exactly do werewolves keep in their house?
Do I want to trust any drawers?
There could be dead squirrels in the pantry for all I know.

I pass the kitchen and the dining room, finding myself shuffling down yet another hall. There's a table with drawers and nick nacks placed neatly against the wall. A couple picture frames hang on the wall above it, I stop to look curiously at them.
One picture is of a man and a woman holding onto one another on the couch of what looks to be a living room from the 1980's. Another is of the same woman with a similar, older looking woman. (Presumably her mother) The last is one of Jackson's senior pictures.

I open one of the drawers of the table, disregarding all caution from earlier, striking gold with what appears to be a family photo album. I open the book, careful with the pages as I admire the photos. The pictures begin in the early 80's, and continue progressing as I look at each photo. Page after page, I look at a cute couple, grandparents, and other relatives. Until I finally come across pages with Jackson in them.

Date of birth: November 16th, 1999.
That makes him nearly 18.

I slow my pace as I look at the pictures, his life in small windows. It's quite adorable. I notice there are no photos of Paul in this scrapbook, maybe there's another book just for him. I disregard my thoughts as I find my favorite photo: at age 6 in 2005, a vacation to California, is one of fetus Jackson wearing a Barney speedo in front of the ocean. I smirk at the photo, I can totally use this as blackmail one day. I pull out my phone and take a picture.

"Excuse me?" A feminine voice startles me, I whip around to be met with a woman in her 40's. A beautiful woman at that, some of her features remind me of Jackson. Maybe this is his mother.
I want to say something, but I for some reason don't want to sound rude or immature in front of this woman, so I keep my mouth shut for now.

"Who are you, if I may ask?" I open my mouth but she doesn't let me answer,"After all, this IS my house, I'm allowed to ask a stranger what the hell you're doing here."
"I, uh...Jackson left me in the family room and I got bored and-"
"How do you know my son?" I furrow my eyebrows, I'm not quite sure why it bothers me, but I thought that Jackson would have told his parents that he found his mate.
"I go to school with him.." I notice her glaring at the scrapbook still in my hands. Embarrassed, I hand it Mrs. Miller, my cheeks flush with anxiety. She opens the book to the page I was recently looking at, the one with my favorite photo. 

"This is probably his most embarrassing photo....but it's probably one of my favorites." Mrs. Miller smirks, reminiscing the memories from her past. It almost makes me smile, but I'm still not comfortable in this situation. Or in this house in general.

"Look at this one, he's in the bath at age three, he was so skinny back then!" She flips to another page, pointing out another picture to me. I see a scrawny little boy with a enormous goofy grin spreading on his face from ear to ear as he sits in a sudsy bath. His mom is replicating that goofy grin in a perfectly equal way at the moment. It's kind of adorable.

Mrs.Miller points out multiple pictures in the scrapbook, a couple make me snicker in amusement. Most of these are definitely blackmail material. 
Our giggling and fun come to a short end when Jackson eventually speed walks down the hallway towards us. 

"I thought you were waiting in the living room?" The look in his eyes is blank, a complete poker face. Although by the tone of his voice, I can tell he's not exactly happy that I wandered off.
In my defense, I didn't exactly mean to. 

Boredom can kill a person if they're left alone with their thoughts. 

"You never told me you made a new friend at school, especially a girl." I avoid Jackson's gaze as his mother speaks. There's an awkward shuffling of my feet and Jackson's at the same time. I guess we're both quite awkward with this situation. Although usually I am about a hundred times more awkward than this.
"It's nothing mom, we're just friends." I would have wanted him to say that.

Would have.
Just friends.

What do I want? It's been a hell of a couple weeks since Jackson's returned from...werewolf camp or whatever the hell that was. But he does in fact, seem different. 

Maybe I should learn to forgive.
Forgive, but not forget.
I don't have to love him, but maybe it's about time I stopped hating him.

Maybe.

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Hello guys! New chapter, I hope the last portion makes sense, seeing as I wrote it without my glasses on and honestly don't have much of an idea of what I just wrote. 
I hope you liked it though, I got about an hours sleep last night and I'm exhausted. Ineedanap.

Song above is Youth by Daughter.

I discovered them a couple months back, and I'm in love with the singer's voice.