I've been fiddling with this story since I wrote it two years ago. I've never shared it, but I'm putting it out there for the world now. I'll be posting new chapters daily.
I've tried to stay as close to canon as possible, but let me know if you see anything that doesn't make sense in SM's world.
Please follow and review. I appreciate your feedback!
Chapter 1 - Becca
Hell is cold, did you know that? It's true. According to Dante, the ninth circle of hell is made of cold wind born from Satan's massive beating wings and people frozen in ice.
There were precious few people on this earth I would go to hell for, and one of them was my twin sister Rachel. So, there I was, sitting in the passenger seat of Rachel's sturdy commuter car as she observed every speed limit warning on the curving roads from Seattle to La Push, our reservation. When the big yellow sign said "Speed Limit 25", I don't think they actually mean it, but try telling that to my sister. As we staggered deeper into the forest, the fog stopped pretending to be a ceiling and enveloped our car so we were driving in a cloud. A cold cloud. Leading us into my personal hell.
The road to the reservation wasn't usually icy that time of year, but late summer could sometimes feel like mid-winter. Compared to where I was that morning, it was an ice field. At least I was able to squeeze one final kayak on Kealakekua Bay before I left. That's where I was these last nine years, well on and off. Me and my ... I guess he's my ex-husband now ... we based ourselves on the big island of Hawaii, but we traveled everywhere, chasing the pro-surf tour so Sunny, that's his name, the ex, could compete for his precious titles, and more truthfully, to keep his sponsors. Come to think of it, Hawaii was warm and it still ended up being like hell. Maybe hell was following me, or I was following it.
My people, the Quileute, don't really have a concept of hell, so it wasn't relevant, but it was easier thinking about Dante than it was to listen to my sister's carefully moderated voice as she white knuckled those turns at well below the speed limit. Oh my god, drive already! Not that I was anxious to get there, I just wasn't used to so much stillness.
It was good to see Rachel though. She'd changed a lot. Her shiny black hair was styled in an efficient bob, she wore more makeup, the kind that erases all of your features and then draws out the good bits, and her nails were perfectly polished. She had a fancy job as a lead computer programmer in Seattle. She mostly worked from the Res, but she rented a room in Seattle and stayed there during the week when things got busy. She was a fancy career woman now, but she was still my Rachel, and if I knew one thing, it was that I'd always be her Becca.
The road straightened and Rachel finally stopped strangling the steering wheel. We were at the last stretch of highway before the turn off to La Push. She touched her crisp white collar and then, as if she'd sensed my thoughts, her eyes flicked to me. "You're not listening to anything I'm saying, are you?" she said. I didn't have to answer, she knew. I expected her sigh, but not what she said next. "Becca, I need you to be prepared. A lot has changed since you've been gone."
I laughed. Nothing ever changed in La Push. They were still telling the same stories, doing the same work, living the same lives that they had been for centuries. I didn't think the Quileute even had a word for "change". People were born, a few left but most stayed and got married and had babies, and then they died. Sometimes they died too early, and those left behind had no choice but to leave because staying hurt too much.
That's what Rachel and I did after our mom died. We left as soon as we could. Rachel went off to college in Seattle, but unlike me, she moved back. I still couldn't make any sense of it. Why she would want to marry Paul and live here was a mystery to me, but she'd always been the stronger twin. Not physically, I was a couple of inches taller and more athletic. She was trim and had a runner's build. But emotionally, she was reserved, focused, and goal-oriented. She wouldn't let anything, not even the world-shattering loss of our mom, get in the way of something she wanted, and what she wanted was Paul. So there I was, ready to help plan the long-time-coming wedding.
The truth was, I had nowhere else to go. Hawaii and Sunny were now nothing but another pathetic chapter in my life. But as Rachel made the final turn into La Push, all I could think is that I'd rather be anywhere but here.
