It's surprising what human beings can accomplish when death is staring them right in the face. When things began plummeting, few knew how to react. Most were confused, seeking guidance from the very foundations and institutions that, once meant to h...
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The sun is setting when I wake up. Faint streaks of orange cut through the dark space in my room as I rub my eyes, coaxing the sleepiness from underneath my heavy lids. I raise myself on my elbows and listen to hear if Declan is home, but am only met with the faint mumbling of the forest.
The clothes on my body feel crisp as I force my fatigued muscles to move and sit up on the bed. I stretch my arms above my head and let out a breath, the bones in my spine cracking and releasing built up tension. I desperately need a shower before Remy gets here.
Grabbing the softest pair of pajamas I own, I head to the bathroom and turn the shower handle as far as it will go. As the hot water ripples down my back, I decide that I have to tell Remy everything-what I found out about Ichor, the story about my parents, the capsulegram, Malia and Collin, Lawton-everything.
If I keep all this information to myself, bottled up, my racing mind and imagination will take it to places I cannot recover from. I need to tell another person and I trust Remy with my secrets.
Stepping out into the steamy bathroom, I twist my hair up in a towel and gaze at myself in the mirror through the layer of mist. I wipe away the remaining mascara under my eyes, which seems to accentuate the dark circles forming even more.
I head downstairs, grabbing a blanket on my way to the kitchen to get two wine glasses and snacks. Climbing back up towards the balcony, I hesitate in front of Auntie Clara's room at the top of the staircase.
I stare at her door for a couple of minutes before trying the knob, unsure of why I expect it to be locked when it never usually is. I flip on the lights and everything in the room looks exactly as it always does.
Her bed by the window is still dressed in the same lilac comforter, next to the several hanging plants and crystals on the windowsill. The pile of books on her nightstand is about ready to topple over as stacks of paper cover her work desk on the opposite wall. An old, worn out map of a world long forgotten hangs behind a gleaming, hologram sphere of the new wolf pack territory lines. And, a thick textbook holds up her overstuffed bookshelf in the corner.
I make my way to her desk, briefly scanning the piles of student essays before opening up the middle drawer and rummaging through her collection of pens and sticky notes. Then I move onto the bookshelf, perusing through titles describing pack lineage and the history of factions, not really sure what I am looking for. I turn around, looking around the room for anything that-I don't know-seems out of place I guess.
A picture frame on her dresser catches my eye. It's the same family picture that it has always been, but the frame is new; its gold, metallic finish shines off the several rings she has left next to it. The floorboards squeak as I stride over and pick up the picture frame of the smiling family.
Five pairs of gray eyes stare back at me. My father has his arms around both my mother and Auntie Clara, whose hair is much lighter and longer in the old fashioned photograph. He's looking down at my mother, whose head is cranked back in laughter, as one hand holds a tiny bundle wrapped in a baby blue blanket and the other is playfully tugging at his beard. Auntie Clara holds on to a chubby, toddler Declan, who is on the verge of tears, while uncomfortably smiling at the camera.
