VEUX

Thirty

March 5

Saoirse was huddled in fresh, ivory sheets. Her usual track shorts hugged her waist and she wore a loose hoody rolled up at the sleeves. She had showered and cleansed every bit of her body, taking the time to brush out her ringlets so they curled healthily over her shoulders. Pen marks of pink and yellow dotted her dark hands, highlighters uncapped between her fingers.

Saoirse had left the room little during the day, only to exchange the bedsheets and grab a vacuum for the floors. She took the time to empty her things into one of the dresser drawers Obsidian had emptied for her, discarding of the big brown boxes she had been living out of for the last few days. She knew she would be staying a while, so she at least wanted to claim back her territory.

This entailed the decision to dedicate her life to the Pack Law. It's bound edges sat opened in her lap, the stained paper now highlighted every few indents. Sticky tabs, colour co-ordinated with the highlighters, poked out along the edges of the pages. She was a good third in, deeply concentrated in her studies. The action soothed her, after her troubling time. Being able to read something and understand it, the concept kept the turmoil within Saoirse at bay.

She'd been going at this for hours, ever since she woke up at dawn. Obsidian hadn't stopped by once, and for that she was grateful. She didn't care to know where he went during the days, but usually he would find a way to sneak himself in Saoirse's path. Except for today. Every few footsteps she heard outside her door she feared to be his, but they always passed as quickly as they came. After the initial first few hours without him, then midday, then even after the pack supper time, Saoirse became fully relaxed in confidence that he would not appear. This submerged her further into her studies.

The Laws were prominent as Saoirse read them. She could visualize the words coming to life in just mere comparisons to the packs she had been a part of. The Laws shaped their culture, the ways of their lives.

There were no elections. The leader was appointed as the next in line of the Hierarchy. Always. And if someone disagreed or fought against a rule, amongst many others, often the only justice suitable was being cast as a rogue, or death.

Laws with those penalties were highlighted in neon pink. Close to red. For danger. Alarm.

As footsteps approached the door of Saoirse's room again, she thought nothing of it. Yet as the handle squealed open, her nerves jumped and she smeared highlighter down the wrong paragraph. Startled with a thumping heart, her eyes were doe wide and just as brown as she glanced up to see her intruder. The thumping in her heart steadily increased to a furious pace, matching her anger as the gears in her brain began turning.

Obsidian paused just slightly after he opened the door, a bit more out of amusement than shock. He'd been informed she hadn't left the room all day, but he didn't expect to find her in the middle of his bed, surrounded by bright pens and paper.

When he stepped over the doorframe, Saoirse's calm atmosphere shattered. The tranquil captivity released her, and all of her rage hit her in one large gasp.

"Get out!" Saoirse screamed at him, slamming the Pack Law closed and shoving it off of her lap. Her gaze hardened into a glare as she challenged Obsidian. "Get out, now!"

Obsidian's expression clearly showed he was taken aback. He was very much confused, annoyed, and mostly tired. "Just h—"

Saoirse swung her legs to the edge of the bed, standing with her arms crossed. "I don't want you in here! Get out!"

"Saoirse," Obsidian began. "What—"

The red hot was burning through her skin. In her ears. Her cheeks. "No! Get the fuck out now! Get out!"