Reasons for running…
The cool mist collected on the tips of my brown hair. The sting of the air beating against my face was refreshing. Everything in my body wanted to be free. I pushed my feet harder into the mossy undergrowth as I forced myself to run faster. There are reasons; I refuse to admit even to myself, to keep running. Maybe I hope to find something worth running for, or something to stop me from running. Maybe I hope to escape myself someday, but I can’t seem to push hard enough to keep this shadow off my heels.
My ears perked up at a sound off in the distance. My reason for running had changed, driven by the thirst at the back of my throat. The dry air being pulled into my lungs was only agitating my need to full fill my desire for nourishment. I pushed my body violently from my heels with all the strength in my legs and sunk my teeth into the side of the deer’s neck. The strength I possessed rendered the animal helpless. A quick twist with my jaw and the struggling animal dropped to the ground. The animal’s blood will help to smother my thirst, but only temporarily.
There are a number of reasons to run. The most prominent reason is because of who I am. My name is Patrick. I am the first of my kind, part werewolf – part fallen angel. I run so I can fight in the end, but the truth is; I would much rather taste of death and be erased than be forced to live this existence.
1. Guilty Pleasure
“Patrick, no matter what you do, always keep running. It is the only way you will survive. We need you to survive.” The pain rippled through the deep green of my mother’s eyes as she kissed my cheek before the darkness took over.
I threw my eyes open.
The nightmares shouldn’t have an effect on me the way they do. I have never had a peaceful nights rest, haunted by the past and inevitable future. Her voice rang through my head bouncing around in my selective memory. My mother’s last words and only advice – always keep running.
I reached my paws out in front of me smooshing the wet moss between my raw pads. I pushed my hind legs up, pulling my body in opposite directions attempting to loosen my tightened neck, back and thy muscles. I shook the dew drops from my copper-brown fur then let my body relax before taking on my awkward human form. Running is faster, more agile as wolf. Hiding is easier. Second nature had become first.
The fresh morning air lingered with the smell of rain from the night before. The moisture in the air teased at my dry throat, taunting me with its lingering refreshment. I scanned the forest trying to grasp my surroundings. I stood frozen in the woods beneath a green canopy of leaves. My eyes scanned around the base of the trees. My ears perked zoning on every sound, searching for the faint trickle of water.
My body froze for a split moment before pushing my feet in the direction of the noise. I pushed past the last branch and came to halt at the edge of a rushing river. The water smacked against the rocky banks in its hurry to leave this place. I knew the feeling. The need to leave this place, to leave every place, shortly after reaching it. I lowered my body into a crouch at the edge and cupped my hands in the icy water slowly bringing them to my dry lips, basking in the refreshment. The bitter chill seeped past my tongue and down my throat.
I have been running for days, years, with no real destination. I have never had a destination. It’s said that you do what you know best. All I know for sure is how to run. I am fast, but never fast enough. I was born running, hiding from the angels driven by some sort of higher power.
The sparkle of silver caught in my peripheral. It took less than seconds for my brain to tell the animal in me to attack. Both my bare hands thrust violently through the glassy surface clasping on to the silky scales of the brook trout. I pulled my hands out of the water suffocating the creature with oxygen. I didn’t wait for its muscles to stop thrusting and convulsing before sinking my teeth into the fish’s protective scales. The animal was quickly devoured, being so small and of very little nourishment, but I was allowed to have one guilty pleasure in my bitter existence. The icy waters of Alaska helped preserve the fish now coursing through my veins.
I lowered my body to the grassy river bank admiring the mountains in the distance. If I really was free this would be how I would want to live. Living in nature, no need to hide, feeding off freshly caught fish. If I was free. Instead I am a slave to my nature. A predator being hunted hiding from destruction. The past few days have been about my freedom, something I hope to see someday.
I was ignoring everything- my purpose, my fear, even the pinch at the back of my brain. The voice I have tried to silence many times over, of my other half. The only person I could never escape, my twin sister. She was begging for me to come home.
What was that?
2. Speck of Humanity
The sunlight poured through the white blinds illuminating the brilliant shades of pink in Jane’s room. I may never fully understand her need to hide in the open. Or her desire to live a human façade among vampires living a human façade. I had become tired of the theatrics. Acting out day to day, meaningless actions, searching for a purpose. There is no need. I know my purpose – to run from it.
I squeezed my eyes shut relieving them of the burning feeling eating away at my vision. My eyes were not used to the day light. I was up all night pacing the halls of this new prison, unable to find enough peace to rest. Peace. I have only tasted of peace once. She is the reason I decided to run.
Charolette Grey
She has always been above all of this, destined to a bigger plan. I had to be a fool to think she wanted me. What would I do with an angel anyway? I force the air from my lungs violently and rubbed the sting from my eyes. The sun reflecting off the pink room was making me sick. Jane may be my sister, but pink was not suiting for her.
I grabbed my brown knit hat from the top of the bed and slid it over my head. I pushed my body from the obnoxiously clean bed, refusing to make it, I stepped into the hallway. Everything in my being despised this house. Everything from the plain fully simple white walls to the Victorian furniture and baby grand piano, always free of dust, everything in its proper place. Even the company of vampires is wrong. I turned the corner to the stairs too soon causing Victoria to walk right into my chest.
“What are you doing here?” The disgust wreaked in her voice.
“Why, did you miss me?” I reached up and brushed a perfect ringlet curl from her tempered face.
“In your dreams,” she slapped my hand away. In a flash I had her wrists in my grip. I pushed her body violently into the hallway wall pinning her wrists to the wall near her head. She was strong, but I was always going to be stronger.
“Trust me, in my dreams a manipulative bitch like you is chained to a post, decapitated and burned to the ground,” I growled, staring deep through her crimson eyes. She leaned forward stopping inches from my face. A smirk spread across her lips. Her eyes shifted from my stare to my mouth.
“That’s not what I saw.” Victoria started to lean into me, taunting me. I pushed her back into the wall.
“Keep your mind games away from me,” I warned as I turned back to the stairs.
“That’s no way to treat a lady,” she sneered at me.
“You’re no lady,” I shot back, disappearing down the stairs. Of all the things this house stood for I despised, hated Victoria, the most. It took everything in my being to not kill her. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t killed her yet, maybe the speck of humanity hiding deep with in my empty chest.
I pushed into the swinging door to the kitchen effortlessly. The smell of beacon, eggs and hash browns flooded my senses. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.
“You really shouldn’t antagonize her like that,” Jane turned to hand me a fully loaded plate. Her straight brown hair was tied back out of her face revealing her hazel eyes. The fleck of green was taking over the golden-brown. It must have been a while since she last went hunting.
“What’s she going to do, manipulate my memory again?” I spoke light of Victoria’s talent. “She should know better than to antagonize me. I could destroy her.”
“You keep saying that. When are you going to follow through since you hate her so much?” Jane encouraged with a mocking grin.
“She’s not worth my time,” I replied taking a bite of crispy bacon. “She’ll get hers… in the end.” I turned to take a sear at a stool placed in front of the counter, but something caught my eye - a moving truck. I stepped up to the window in the kitchen over looking the green house across the driveway. The white moving truck was backed up to the green house, the door propped open. William walked from the green house to the back of the truck, then back into the green house carrying flats of white daises. It had been near five years since the green house had been full and now William was packing it like a mad man, with white daises. I knew the only reason he would be bringing the daisies back had forgotten about him. She had forgotten about both of us.
“What is he doing?” I asked Jane as I stuck a piece of bacon in my mouth. Jane stepped up beside me watching William pace the distance between the green house and the truck.
“It looks like he’s bringing the daisies back. You know he finally quit his job,” Jane informed me. As if I should care about William’s job.
“Why?” I signed heavy and rolled my eyes, humoring her conversation.
“Because she’s back,” Jane replied nonchalant as she turned from the window back to the sink of dishes.
“What, she’s’ back? What do you mean she’s back? Where?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes, she’s in Boston apparently.”
“In Boston” I asked as I turned to face my sister.
“Patrick, you can’t go see her. William says she still doesn’t remember anything. I can’t let you see her, not yet anyway. She doesn’t remember.”
“Oh I’m sure,” I replied bitterly skeptical.
“Why would William lie about Charolette remembering?” Jane asked. She really was an innocent heart. I gave her a look doubting she had forgotten mine and William’s rivalry for Charolette’s heart five years ago. “You think he wants her all to himself? No, I don’t think she remembers. If she did I’m certain she would be here and not in Boston.”
“I don’t trust him,” I said bitterly as I turned back to the counter.
“That’s funny; he said the same thing after you strolled through the door early this morning.”
“Just because Charolette’s back. He’s worried and you can taste it in the air. She doesn’t remember and he’s bringing back the daisies? If she really doesn’t remember then he’s going to scare her off and when he does I will be here to watch it all fall apart.”
“I don’t think you should be hoping for it to fall apart. If William loses her again, we all lost her again,” Jane warned. I refused to respond. I never lost Charolette. I gave her away, for a better cause. At least that’s how I’ve had to lie to myself for the past five years. For a better cause – death.
3. Despised Devotion
All day I pretended to hide, but secretly watched William from the second floor window. There was no way Charolette had truly forgotten him. Me, I could understand, but William –never. The latch to Victoria’s bedroom door clicked as she opened it behind me.
“Do you mind not mopping in front of my room? I can only ignore your presence for so long until I feel like killing somebody,” Victoria’s voice made my skin crawl.
“Maybe you’ll kill yourself,” I spoke at the window refusing to turn and face her. Her reflection glared at me.
“Maybe I will kill you. It’s dangerous to put me in this kind of mood. It’s hard to say what I will do with it,” she warned.
“You won’t bother with me. It seems you have bigger problems to deal with.” Victoria crossed her arms over her chest as I turned to face her.
“And what are those?” She asked rudely skeptical.
“Charolette’s back,” I replied before turning to the attic stairs at my side. Victoria’s hostility turned to worry as she stepped up to the window. Victoria may be conniving and the epitome of all evil, but we had one common ground. We despised William’s devotion to Charolette. Victoria hated William’s love for Charolette more than I did, but that’s because I wasn’t allowed to hate it. I was the reason they met. The truth was Charolette was mine first.
The orange glow of the sunset seeped into the attic through the half circle window of William’s room. I made it a point to invade upon his privacy since he made it a point to invade upon my thoughts. I walked across the bare floor to a coffee table cluttered with papers – sheet music. I picked up the top page and stare down at the notes. My eyes followed along the lines as the tune played in my head. A song I hadn’t heard in years. I dropped the paper letting it float down to the edge of the table, teetering. A leather journal lay open face at the opposite edge of the table. I bent over and picked it up reading the words.
Now I know why mortals wish for death, plan for it, encourage it. The pain is so intense, beyond intense. Being numb would be a welcome sense over this. To end it all would be easy. To erase the need to escape. The ability to die would be welcomed. The desire to erase my memory floods over my being. Victoria would do it if I asked. She would erase every memory of Charolette if I truly desired it, but my heart couldn’t allow me to. It wouldn’t matter if my mind couldn’t remember her, my soul always would.
“Oh god, grow some balls William,” I snorted as I dropped the journal carelessly to the table causing loose papers to blow up from the draft. This tortured soul bit was getting old. The whole co-dependant thing was depressing, even to me. It had been five years. The way he’s been morning her you’d think she was dead. There was an accident, she lost her memory. She didn’t die and here William sits drowning in the memory instead of making her remember.