Happy Endings Don't Exist...Do They?

Chapter 17: Loading, Loading, Loading...Error Cannot Process at This Time

Aryn POV

I stare out the window of the car as we drive away from the hospital, watching as the trees pass by in a blur of greens and browns. The drive is silent, for me I am processing everything, werewolves are real, Micah is one, I am on my way home, tense waiting to see what my punishment will be this time, all these things swirling in my head.

Why Micah is quite I am not quite sure, he is rarely quite around me, as if he feels the need to offset my silence with his never shutting up. Sometimes I find it annoying but mostly I find it nice, his voice is soothing and smooth. Plus then I know where he is even if I close my eyes.

Soon enough I notice that the trees don't seem to be thinning as they would the closer to town, to my house. We pass more trees and more trees. My pulse jumps slightly as I realize we are not heading toward my house. I can feel my heart rate speed up its pace as we arrive  outside a huge wooden house, possibly a mansion, but I am not sure what constitutes a mansion.

This isn't my house. I have to go home. My father is already furious that I ended up in the hospital as it is, if I don't go home soon... my breathing hitches at that thought. Bad things. Very bad things. I quickly cut off that thought not willing to go down that rabbit hole at that moment.

Turning to Micah as he shuts off the car, "This isn't my home. I need to go home." I rasp out almost desperately. I need to go home. Micah just shakes his head at me stating sternly "I told you, you're not going back there. You don't have to worry about your father anymore. I promise I will protect you. He can't hurt you anymore." He reaches to grab my hand, as I flinch from the movement memories from the past flashing in my mind.

Micah freezes his movements, looking at my face, before continuing taking my hand into his. "You are safe here. He will not hurt you. You are not going back to that house." I shake my head at him, he doesn't understand I have to go back, "I need to go home." I repeat again in a shaky voice, my body taking it cue to start shaking as well.

My heart starts trying to beat out of my chest again. "Hey, hey, hey." Micah tries to calm me. "Its okay, your father isn't even at your house. So, even if I did take you home he wouldn't be there. Okay. You're okay." He continues to talk to me. Trying to comfort me. It doesn't work. My breathing now intermittent at best.

Micah continues to speak as the words fall away with the rest of my hearing of the world around me disappearing in order for me to hear my heartbeat in my ears. If I don't go home... I need to go home... If I don't go home... I need to go home... These thoughts churn in my head. Over and over. My heart beat sounds like a thundering herd my breathing has dwindled to nonexistent. The world starts to blur around me as the same thoughts whirl as if on a record on repeat. Soon enough everything fades to blessed blackness.

I am in my first year of high school when I see red and blue lights reflecting on the walls of the living room. Cops. I haven't see cops at our house in years, having learned long ago to swallow my screams when I determined it only makes things worse for me. Today however I couldn't hold it in. One of our neighbors must have taken pity on me. I lay unmoving on the floor as a knock reverberates through the house. Closing my eyes I let tears break free, allowing them to fall down my face.

Shortly after my father answers the door. Next thing I know Mr. Pym our neighbor to the right is there with two officers lifting me up, placing me in a car and transporting me to a hospital. Flurry of activity happens before I am lying in a bed a gown adorning my bruise and battered body. Mr. Pym is holding my hand as I try to fall asleep. Before long cops burst into the room jolting me from my fitful sleep putting handcuffs on to poor Mr. Pym escorting him from the room. Leaving me a confused, crying mess.