Fever

Whether it was the fault of my broken heart or my lack of sleep, I couldn’t find the urge to get out of bed the next morning. I felt the weight of my mother’s eyes on me as she surveyed me from the door, but she didn’t say anything and closed it behind her. I stayed in that position, staring blankly at the wall opposite my bed. I don’t think there was a point to get out of bed that morning. I couldn’t go to school and put a smile on my face, pretending that there was nothing wrong with me. In these short few months, I had single-handedly broken my own heart and my mother’s too. But did I regret listening to Jacob? No, I don’t think I would ever take it back.

I almost wondered if he felt as badly as I did, but I didn’t have to second guess him the way my mother was. There was no denying that Jacob was just as torn up as Paul was when he found out about Lily. The only part of me that was wounded was inside my chest. As the thoughts of Paul leaning over a hospital bed filled my head, I suddenly felt ashamed. Lily was lying in pieces, clinging to her life for all I knew, and I was upset because my mother found out about Jacob and I. We were both alive and in one piece, our hearts still beating, and I was upset.

For the first time in hours, I lifted myself from the contour I had created on my bedspread and sat up. The murky sky outside left my room dark and empty, and as I sat there staring at the space there was not a sound that met my ears. I listened for a moment, listened for my mother’s footsteps down the hall or the sports game from the living room, but there was nothing. The silence urged me out of bed, my body sluggish and tired as it moved to the door and out into the rest of the dimly lit house. The lack of light transformed my small house into a lonely and almost foreign place. I turned on the hallway light and the one in the kitchen, trying to fill the void.

I had to desire to eat, no appetite for anything, but I found myself going through the motions of collecting cereal and milk. I stood at the kitchen counter, pouring myself a bowl when I found my eyes drifting up to the window that sat over the sink. The sky looked ready to open up at any moment and mirror the emotions I felt pulsating within. The yard sat empty apart from a pair of old lawn chairs and a few patches of grass and dirt that poked up from the hard snow. Beyond the yard, beyond my property, the forest lurked. My heart gave a sharp tug as I stared into the woods.

Suddenly, I remembered all the times my parents warned me about getting lost in the woods. I was seven when my father told me that bad things happened in there. He trusted my fear to be able to steer me clear from the trees, which sufficed until I was twelve. A game of hide-and-go-seek went wrong and I was stuck without direction in the woods surrounding the elementary school grounds and my father and the deputy had to go after me. That time, it wasn’t my father warning me, but the deputy. I still remember the haunting look on his face as he crouched down to my level, his eyebrows set in a hard line, and he told me about the bad things that could happen to a young girl lost in the forest. Over the next few years my mother could chide me off and on about how other children weren’t as lucky as I was to be found and they instilled the fear in me until the chiding stopped.

And just like that, after years of being conditioned into fear of the woods, one boy broke all of that and I took the trees head on. Why couldn’t my mother see just how special he was? Jacob wasn’t just some guy who wanted to take advantage of me and break my heart. He was different. He was honest, caring, sweet, and no matter what was trying to kill me, Jacob was worth it. I realized, standing there with the milk jug poised over the bowl that I would go to any lengths for him. I would even risk my neck, my life, for him. I guess this, I thought, this is what love is. This is what love makes you do.

I put the milk back onto the counter, abandoning the bowl. I placed both hands along the counter, looking out the window. Apart from guilt and heart break, I hadn’t felt anything else. But now, standing there with my mind racing, I felt angry. Once more, my mother was taking control of my life. She was telling me who I could and couldn’t be with. I was angry because I didn’t deserve this. For the first time in my life, I made my own choice to follow after a feeling I had in my gut, in my chest, and it felt amazing. I found something I thought I would be searching my whole life for, but I found it all in Jacob.

I should just run away. Grab what I needed and just leave home to be with him. The idea of running off sent my pulse racing and a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. But despite that feeling of being free from my mother’s grasp, I realized that it was impossible. She would tear cities down to find me if I ran away. And the first place she would destroy was the Quileute reservation. I couldn’t put Jacob and his people through that, especially not because of me. And so the adrenaline of being free slowly dissipated until I was standing there, feeling as lonely as ever, staring out the window. I took one last look at the bowl of cereal on the counter before I went back to my room and started to make a new contour in the mattress.

- - -

I had fallen into an uneasy sleep, filled with horrific images of fallen wolves and splintered trees. I found myself waking with a start as the sight of Jacob with blood spilling from a wound in his side waded into my dream, and I sat there staring for a moment, trying to purge the image from my mind. I had to believe that he was safe. I had to believe.

I threw off my covers and made my way over to my window, splitting the blinds apart to peer into the backyard. It had started to rain while I was sleeping, pooling in the dirt patches in the yard. I glanced towards the trees instinctively and for a split second, I thought I saw Jacob. I dropped the blinds and ran into the kitchen, clumsily sticking my feet into the boots, and as I had the door opened and ready to run into the woods, I suddenly stopped myself. I couldn’t see him any longer, if he had even been standing there in the first place. Jacob and Sam had both warned me about wandering into the woods alone, even in my own backyard. The same warning that had plagued me my whole life. As much as I yearned for the sight of any of them, I found myself closing the door and locking it back into place. Jacob wouldn’t have wanted me to.

The bowl of cereal still sat on the counter and my stomach gave a small grumble at the sight. I couldn’t stop eating just because I was depressed. I knew Jacob wouldn’t want that. I poured the warm milk into the bowl and sat down in the living room in the recliner where my dad always sat. I had gotten through half of the bowl when I had the strangest feeling. I rocked back and forth gently, poking at the soggy chunks of cereal. I didn’t know why, but something inside me was pulling me to the kitchen window. It was silly, I knew, but I couldn’t resist the urge and found my feet leading me gently to the kitchen. I put my bowl on the counter and peered out into the yard, not at all surprised to see nothing out of the ordinary. I was about to go back to my room when something caught my eye.

At the edge of the yard, where the snow met the tree line, a giant branch was lying on the ground, the tips of the branch still bouncing up and down. My jaw loosened a little bit and I stared at that branch. It hadn’t been there moments ago when I opened the door. But, I tried to reason; maybe the rain knocked it down. Even though it wasn’t raining particularly hard and the branch was far too large to be brought down by a little bit of rain. My pulse picked up the pace a little and I found myself holding my breath.

I thought I saw something move in the depths, but I told myself I was imagining things. I had a bad dream and now I was seeing things that weren’t there. But somewhere in my gut I knew that there was something there. Whatever was in there brushed against a tree and a clump of snow fell, something unmistakable, and as soon as the clump hit the forest floor, I turned and ran for the door. I shoved on a pair of sneakers, not even glancing at the snow boots beside them. I didn’t know where to go so I sped off in the direction farthest from my house, running down the road in an old sweatshirt of my Dad’s and pyjama pants.

I didn’t even glance behind me as I ran, not even wondering if there was a rabid wolf following me, ready to rip my head off. I slipped on a couple patches of wet snow, but I pulled myself up quickly and kept running. All the way to town where I ended up outside my father’s office, soaked from head to toe, and panting with a stitch in my side. As I walked into the office, his coworkers peered up at me curiously, but I only had eyes for the receptionist who was staring rather rudely.

“My – dad?” I panted at her.

“He’s in the conference room,” she said slowly, “are you all right?”

“Where’s the con-“ I took a deep breath, “conference room?”

She pointed over her shoulder, “at the back and to your right.”

I patted the counter in thanks and sped past the cubicles, ignoring all the strange looks until I saw my father’s silhouette through the windows and burst into the room. He was sorting through papers and arranging them neatly around the long table before I interrupted, and he had to do a double take before he realized who was standing there at the door.

“Kay?” he said in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

I had regained some of my breath back, but my lungs still felt like they were on fire, “I-I-“

What was I going to say? I couldn’t just tell him that there was a pack of wolves trying to kill me so they could recruit my boyfriend to their clan. I wracked my brain for a convincing excuse that would cover the reasons why I ran here in the rain with a panicked look on my face.

“I got scared. I heard some noises when I was sleeping and I thought I saw someone in the yard,” I lied. “I didn’t know what to do so I ran here.”

“Are you okay?” he came over to my side, brushing the wet hair out of my eyes. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

“And you thought you saw someone in the yard?” he asked quizzically.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “and I didn’t know who it was.”

“Did you call the sheriff?”

“I-I panicked, I didn’t want to be alone.”

“All right, let’s go and take a look. I’ll take my lunch.”

He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and guided me out of the office. As we passed the cubicles, the same stares followed me on the way out.

“Candice, I’m taking my lunch, if I get any calls, take a message or redirect it to my cell. I’ll be back before two,” he said to the receptionist as we passed.

“Everything all right, Ed?” she asked, trying to stick her nose into our business.

“I’ll see you at two, Candice.”

On the way back home, my father didn’t say anything to me as we drove. It didn’t take long to reach our street, and suddenly I felt awfully foolish for just leaving the house. What if I didn’t see anything? What if a bird hit that branch and made the snow fall? But what if I did see something and the house was in ruins? I was leading him into a death trap.

“Dad, I-“ I tried to stop him.

“It’s okay, Kay, I don’t mind. I was going to eat left over potato salad anyway,” he chuckled lightly. “Don’t even be afraid to call on me, even if it’s nothing.”

I nodded solemnly. We pulled into the short driveway and I looked eagerly for some visible signs of a fight. The house still looked intact, untouched, and just as empty as I left it. I followed my father out of the car and towards the house, searching for anything that would tell me I wasn’t crazy. He opened the door slowly, peering down the hallway.

“Hello?” He waited a moment. “Is there anyone here?”

When there was no response, he stepped into the house, peering into the living room and then down the hall. I followed behind him closely, seeing nothing that seemed out of place. No one seemed to have been here except for me. I felt like an idiot as we finally made our round into the kitchen and there was nothing destroyed, no blood, no fur, no nothing. I moved forward to apologize to my dad who was making his way to the backdoor when I stepped in something wet. I looked down and my bowl of cereal was all over the ground.

“Were you in the backyard this morning?”

“No,” I looked up from the fallen cereal.

As my father turned to me, the back door was wide open. My eyes grew wide as I looked down at the cereal and then to the door, my face a look of horror. Someone was in my house. Someone or something had been here.

“I’m going to call the sheriff, go see if anything was taken.” His tone was suddenly serious.

I hurried into my room and began to sort through my things, searching frantically for anything that could have been taken. It looked like someone had been in my room; my drawers were all opened slightly and there were wet spots across my rug. I rifled through my side table, my school stuff, my desk, and couldn’t find anything that they had taken. Why had they been in here? I wondered desperately, and as my eyes traced over the room once more, I realized what they had taken. I walked over to my naked pillow and picked it up delicately.

“Is anything missing?” my father stuck his head into my room.

My head shook ‘no’ on its own accord.

“No, they didn’t take anything,” he spoke to the receiver, “it looks like they broke it and didn’t find what they were looking for.”

They didn’t find what they were looking for because they were looking for me.