??A Howl In The Night??
?(She’s mine)?
?Chapter 7?
?Meeting The Pack Of Players?
The bell rings, signifying the conclusion of another tortuous day. My locker, unfortunately next to “Mr. Popular” himself, winks at me as I walk out of the classroom towards it. Xavier is overwhelmed by his fans, leaving me ample time to collect my baggage. I grab my stuff, waiting for him to dissipate the crowd and make his way towards me. Which he does, with a big smile on his face. “Are you ready?” he questions.
I look away, trying to make my voice sound convincing. “Can I go to the bathroom first?”
He nods, staring at me with his electrifying green eyes. I feel, suddenly, as if he can stare straight through me, seeing what my true intentions are. Keeping my head down, I plow past him into the ferocious crowd.
I slip through the halls, enduring shoving and pushing along the way, and pause by the bathroom. Consisting of only a tiny hall of stalls and two meager sinks, it is a sorry excuse for a bathroom, but it will suit my purposes just fine.
I walk to the end of the bathroom, right at the last stall. A small window, about the size of a half-piece of poster board, perches about four and a half feet above the floor. My escape route. It is at about chin level on me, clearly at a height I can’t climb to. Carefully, I reach forward and open it, the glass swinging outwards. Now I am ready.
Placing my backpack on the tile floor, the contents tumbling out of its confinements, I begin to stack my books and binders on top of each other. Then, I put the tower of school supplies in the backpack, the zippered top of it open. I grasp the handles on either side, stepping onto the tiny mountain like I had planned hours earlier.
The two foot tall pile sways and almost collapses underneath me, but I catch the window ledge before it gives way to gravity. Propelling myself upwards, my butt hits the ledge, leaving my backpack swinging below me because of my hold on it. Pulling the handles, I force it to reach my current elevation. I turn, my feet now swinging over the edge, towards the outdoors as I pack the binders and books back in my bag.
The scene before me, a plain view that includes a blue sky and a bunch of dead grass, has never been so beautiful. For now, it symbolizes freedom. I feel elation pounding in my chest, a burden disappearing from my shoulders. Nothing I have ever experienced amounts to this emotion, this feeling of liberty.
The feeling vanishes when I look towards the ground.
I mentally smack myself in the head when I survey the thirty feet between me and the tops of the prickly bushes directly below. There is no way I am going to be able to get out from here. Well, unless I want to break an arm and a leg.
Laughing, I let my whisper escape into the cool breeze, “Looks like my perfect plan is a total failure.” I know I should have chosen the back door route, but the bathroom idea was too cr@zy to resist at the time, and Xavier wouldn’t get too suspicious in the process. But how could I have known that this bathroom is actually thirty feet above the ground, and that a patch of thorny bushes grovels below?
I hear some chattering behind me as some figures enter the bathroom. Shutting my eyes, I squeeze my backpack tightly, hoping that they won’t notice my back in the window. Unfortunately, I can’t see anything from my position; facing outwards. Fear enters me, the thought that they might laugh at me chilling me to the bone. I shift slightly, thrusting my head into the afternoon air, leaving only my back and butt in the window. From my position, the bushes might as well be a sea of sharks.
The noise suddenly ceases, the chattering halting so suddenly that the air freezes as well. My body stiffens, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe.
There are steps, ones that grow increasingly louder to my unwilling ears. I can tell they are heading my way, sensing the foreboding hiding behind each small movement. Finally, they stop as well, leaving only silence. Dangerous silence. Time seems to pause, even my breath suspended in anxiety.
Light and incredibly thin fingers, hundreds of them, brush across my back as the figure leans close to my ear. The person’s hot breath, full of menace, dwindles upon the back of my neck. There is another painful pause, the suspense eating me whole, and then a sound that makes my blood run cold.
“He is mine,” a malicious voice whispers. A pair of two soft but strangely strong hands collide with my back, the carefully manicured nails clawing into my skin. The force pushes me forwards, and I start to fly.
Only for a second, though, before gravity takes its course.
The air rushes past me, my backpack serving as a weight to pull me down even faster. I release it, hoping cr@zily that somehow it will slow me, but that doesn’t stop my plummet. I am toppling face down, my view of the deathly bushes absolutely electrifying. Death looms before me once more, a familiar figure I have come to recognize in its previous two visits. I marvel at the fact that Death has come for me three times so far, when the average teenager doesn’t even know his face. The ground runs to meet me, and I shut my eyes tightly.
Muscled arms, strong and sinewy, wrap around me right before the first prickly leaf mars my face. He, for surely these perfect arms must belong to a man, cradles me, embracing my suddenly fiery hot skin. Electricity shocks me in every place that he touches me, a strange, arousing feeling searing through my veins.
I stare into the face of my savior, and grimace. Somehow, I know even before I look that the mysterious man is Xavier.
“Why would you do something stupid like fall out of the bathroom window?” he asks confusedly, his tone a little accusing. Setting me down, away from the thorns, he steps out as well. Streaks of red blood pulsate from his knee down, thorns sticking into his leg. He seems not to notice the demolition of his beautiful calves, continuing on with his “why are you so stupid” talk. “I had to run from the front of the school,” he complains, “to you in three seconds flat, and avoid a group of annoying girls along the way! Why were you in the window? I thought you were in the bathroom! And don’t they usually keep those windows shut? How could you fall out of a closed window-”
“I was trying to escape, wolfboy. Get it right,” I say, without energy or menace. A near-death experience takes a lot out of you.
Xavier looks at me, his eyes wide… and begins to laugh hysterically. I realize now that the fact that I was trying to escape makes me look even stupider than if I had just fallen out of the window. “Mona,” he speaks, his voice like melted butter as it slips through his lips, “you can’t escape from me.”
Anger pumps through my veins, sparks flying. Who is HE to tell me I can’t escape? Even though he’s probably right…
“Oh and Mona,” he says suddenly, “take this.” He offers me a small ring, with an emerald on top. It sparkles in the light, as beautiful as Xavier’s eyes. I slip it on my finger, though dubious.
“Is this an engagement ring?” I ask suspiciously. He shakes his head.
“If it was, I would propose,” he says obviously, making me feel stupid again. Anger courses through me as I think of the endless amount of days I was going to have to endure this werewolf; one that thinks he is all that…
However, all doom and gloom evaporates as I survey the blood running towards his foot. It is worse now, the thorns growing irritated in the skin. “Xavier,” I tell him, squatting down to examine the injury better, “we have to get you a bandage!” I have to admit, it was very nice and heroic of Xavier to save me, and I owe him at least this much concern.
Xavier shrugs, “I’ll get it fixed at the mansion. It can wait.” His careless attitude is completely opposite from what it should be, reminding me once again that he is not normal.
“No,” I say fiercely, “It can’t.” Opening my backpack, I take a small supply of napkins out of a pocket. Brushing it across the blood, I wipe most of it off so I can get a better view. The thorns protrude from his skin, big ones that would have me in tears. Using my fingers, I carefully pull each one out, trying to ignore the desire pulsing through me. The vulnerability I am displaying to the over-affectionate werewolf.
Xavier shoots me a smile as I take out the last thorn, offering me a hand to help me stand. “Thanks, Mona,” he says softly, as if my tiny action means a lot to him. Knowing Xavier, it probably does.
“What about the blood?” I question, looking at his red stained ankles. He shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it. It will heal soon,” he assures me, his voice confident. I roll my eyes, and then look to the window. It is dark inside, so I can’t see the face, but I am sure the figure is still in there, watching us both. It seemed to be a girl, but I am not sure. All I know is that the person, whatever the gender, wants me dead. The chills are unceasing, biting at me with terrible force.
Xavier turns to the forest behind us, right beyond the meadow. “It’s this way,” he declares, his tone certain. He whirls back to face me, his arms spread out wide. “Come here,” he demands. His eyes are fierce, ordering obedience. Not knowing quite why, I oblige him. He sweeps me into his arms once more, strangely comforting me with his warmth. There is a silence as Xavier grits his teeth, and then he begins to run. Blindingly fast, his legs zoom into the vast underbrush, destination unknown to me. However, at this moment, I don’t care. Xavier is the least of my troubles.
The voice still echoes in my head, stirring up fear in my heart. “He is mine.”
***
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