Lone Wolf

Chapter 7

Hey guys I appreciate you all taking the time to reading my story. Up above is our baby boy Jonah. This update is way overdue.
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I wake up to the sound of a loud banging noise in the kitchen. I'm used to these by now since when my mother is grieving she starts to bake. Tin pans are really fucking loud at two o'clock in the morning. At least there will be food for me to eat in the morning even if it's just sugary concoctions. I'm open to receiving any kind of food in general. That's maybe only one of the only things I like that hasn't changed since Shadow's death.

Now that I'm awake my eyelids won't shut no matter how hard I try. That's the bad thing about envisioning your dead brother at ungodly hours of the night. He is everywhere and I can't escape his ghost even in my sleep. No matter what I can't get the sight of his battered body out of my mind.

I was supposed to be the one protecting him and I failed. He was my responsibility.

Suddenly, my phone pinged with a new message.

Sexiest bae ever: Hey, I'm sorry about today. I just couldn't help myself.

Jonah: fuck off. I hate you.

Sexiest bae ever: *love

Jonah: leave me alone

After that I shut off my phone and got up out of bed. The sight of Shadow's empty bed causes a pang to start in my heart and I push the feeling down as far as possible. It ends up in my stomach causing it to churn. The feeling of needing to scream enters my brain. My running shoes are directly next to my bed for this express purpose. Pulling them on and sneaking through the house is a skill that is required to master when needing a release from the weight of life.

Running feels almost foreign after not doing it for so long. Before Shadow died I was the star of the track team. That was back when simple human interaction didn't make my skin crawl. The bruises from my fight in the park burn as the street flies past me. The wind is cold and I revel in the pain and the cold.

At least these things give me what I deserve. I deserve to suffer for what I had allowed to happen to my precious baby brother. When they found his body both his eyes were swollen shut and he was curled in a fetal position. His once angelic face had been turned into a cacophony of bruises. Dried blood had gathered on his shirt collar. My mother took one look at the state of him and broke down.

I turn onto an abandoned path that leads to the top of a very large hill. The hill when you get to the top is barren of grass and every single tree is dead. Through all of that the hill still stands and that is why it sticks out to me. Looking over our town with its position near the sea fills my exhausted body with peace. The ocean screams back with the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the hill.

There is nothing better than the feeling of the sea. It washes away all pain and suffering. It has balance and more personality than most people. There is a chaotic beauty about it too. One could fall in love with the rhythm of the sea. At two am there is nothing but the sea and I.  This is what perfection looks like. There are no expectations or tasks to complete or worrisome mothers to console.

In this moment I feel immortal and untouchable until a sudden cough brings me crashing down to reality. The high that thinking about the ocean invoked is now gone. Turning to see where the noise came from I gasp as I see Maddox. He seems to be in a good mood, better than mine at least. We also have to take into account that we beat the crap out of each other just a few hours prior.

"Fancy seeing you here at my hill. It's been my night spot for a while. So honestly you're kind of intruding. Since you're the Morning Star I guess I'll give you a pass just this once," Maddox says with a chuckle. The moonlight reflects off of his lip rings and eyebrow piercing.

I raise an inquisitive eyebrow at the "Morning Star" comment. What could that even mean? It kind of sounds like the name of a newspaper or something. The fact that Maddox is here is ruining the mood that I had before even further. This is not the time for intrinsic contemplation or even a conversation. The reason that 2 am is so perfect is because no one is really out and you can be alone.

"I see that you're not in a talking mood. See you around Morning Star. Stay safe out there," Maddox says with a cheeky wink.

In response I just glare which makes him chuckle even further. Only now, in the moonlight can his body be seen clearly. His "w" tattoo on his arm that was the same as Marcel's was earlier. How curious.