Lost silver falls univer.., p.2
Lost: Silver Falls University, page 2
Sometimes the attacks would come out of nowhere. Like when Lindsey had slammed me up against the lockers and dug her nails into my neck hard enough it had left scars, threatening me to leave her ‘mate’ Jordan alone. I still had no idea who Jordan was, and I didn’t think they were mates.
Other times the attacks were preceded by a sense of dread accompanied by a panicked feeling of being trapped. Like when I was a freshman and two seniors had trapped me in the locker room, both of them claiming they wanted to find out if I was their mate or not. At fourteen, I’d been extremely confused, but it had started to click together when their large bodies had crowded me into a corner and their hands had started to run across my skin in a sickening pattern. I’d been so scared that I’d frozen, and luckily, the coach had walked in and dragged both boys away, leaving me slumped against the bench feeling cold, confused, and horrified. I still sometimes felt their touches when I had nightmares.
After only a year of high school, I had begged Theresa to let me take courses from home. I would homeschool myself, even if my education suffered somewhat. She hadn’t agreed to it at first, but once I had explained the situation to our Alpha, he seemed to agree it was the right move. It was the only time I had been happy to have his attention on me. Usually, he left me feeling uncomfortable like the other men in our pack.
So while I had deprived myself of normal social interactions outside of Gerald, Theresa, and Alpha… I had felt safer. At least somewhat. I mean, at least I could control who was hurting me if I only saw three people. It didn’t stop Gerald from hitting me, but it was better than not knowing where the next blow would come from. Luckily, I didn’t ever feel uncomfortable under my own roof like I had with those boys in the locker room. I think Gerald hated me more than he would ever like me, so I had taken the small win.
Maybe that was why I found myself missing the small apartment just a bit. My bedroom, mainly. My safe space. It was the place I could lock my doors and play pretend that what existed outside was a loving family. One that actually claimed ownership of me and not one who just took me in because I was half-dead on their doorstep.
I knew they didn’t consider me family. I was simply a little wolf they had taken in like a starving puppy that was half-frozen on a cold night. Not that I wasn’t grateful… but I knew that I wasn’t very important to them. I wasn’t very important to anyone in general.
I think that had been in part why everyone had been shocked when news of me leaving for Silver Falls University had made the rounds at the pack meeting. It had been met with dirty looks and I had sunk into my chair, wishing more than anything that the meeting would end so I could retreat back into our apartment. I didn’t need their attention. Not for something that they were so clearly upset over.
I couldn’t even blame them. No one in our pack would have ever tried applying to a school like Silver Falls. It was one of those prestigious universities that was unattainable for those of us that hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in our mouth, so to speak. It was probably why the population of the school was so tiny, because getting in was so impossible.
Besides the high academic standards, the tuition was astronomical, and our pack was poor. Don’t get me wrong, we had always been able to provide for our own, but we were very much on the lower end of the socioeconomic spectrum.
My lips tilted down when I remembered trying to explain that to Gerald, thrilled to have found a subject I loved so much: economics. Except instead, I’d gotten hit across the face hard enough that I’d been knocked unconscious and left with a bruised cheek and busted lip for days.
Apparently, my interest in economics, numbers, or anything that wasn’t ‘motherhood’ was considered wrong. That was coming from Theresa. Gerald refused to talk to me and threatened that if I ever spoke about our pack like that again, the punishment would be far worse.
It didn’t matter that my brain worked better with numbers than with people. It didn’t matter that I was fascinated by the twists and turns that a marketplace could bring, altering entire countries purely based on the perception of worth. Nope. None of that mattered.
Women who talked about stuff like that were hit. Lesson learned.
To say I was wary of people in general—cautious, really—was an understatement. It was one of the reasons I had my bag on the empty seat next to me and was keeping my head down, not wanting to catch anyone’s gaze. My wolf found it annoying, wanting to be more bold than we were capable of defending. She was always pushing for that, though. But if people outside of the pack were anything like the people I’d grown up with, I didn’t want anything to do with them.
Frowning, my hand came up to my neck, feeling the scar that marked me as bitten. As different. As weak. As a target. I couldn’t remember a time before it existed, and I had no idea how it had gotten there. In fact, before the age of thirteen, I couldn’t remember much of anything. I had known my name, when I’d been born, and well… the fact that I had most definitely never turned into a wolf before.
I was still hoping to get my memories back from before then.
Before making my way to Theresa and Gerald’s doorstep, I had been wandering the city frozen to the bone, bleeding, and absent of memories outside of a few select pieces of information. It had been a confusing, terrifying experience, and upon coming across their apartment, I had passed out on their doorstep.
When I woke the following morning, Theresa had introduced herself, and Gerald had explained that I had been attacked. That I would never be the same again. That I was now part wolf. I don’t think I believed them at the time. I should have been scared they were crazy, but instead I immediately took them up on their offer to stay.
They had no pups of their own, and at thirteen? I had seen it as a blessing. I would have taken anyone’s invitation for even a small amount of safety. I don’t think anyone in the pack had really ever wanted me there, even from the start, but they had also dealt with it because Gerald was Alpha’s younger brother.
It was probably the only reason I was still alive and hadn’t been killed in some ‘show of dominance.’ After all, being hit around in our pack was normal. But killing the Alpha’s adopted niece? Somewhat a step too far. Especially because everyone knew I wasn’t very confrontational.
Something that my wolf absolutely hated. She wanted to fight back. But I wanted to survive, and if that meant curling up and covering my head from well-aimed kicks, you better believe that was exactly what I’d do.
While I had never been held up in the pack, I’d been protected. I’d been sheltered from outside forces. I had been told only the pack could keep me safe.
Maybe that’s why something about this situation rang so odd. The one-eighty left me feeling unstable.
It was like a spell had overtaken Gerald and Theresa the minute they received the letter. Even Alpha seemed unusually excited. I could admit that while the opportunity was a big deal, it had hurt how pleased they seemed to be to get rid of me. Normally, it would have made sense to assume they were excited for me, but I hadn’t been part of the conversation. In fact, no one seemed to care how I felt about it. There had been no talk about refusing the all-inclusive scholarship, and by this morning, I’d been packed up and placed on a bus that would drop me off across the street from the train station.
Alpha had brought me. Theresa and Gerald hadn’t even bothered to come say goodbye. So this entire thing felt… orchestrated. Planned? Forced? None of this was normal for how my ‘family’ worked, and now that I was finally away from all of them, that reality and fear was invading my chest.
Sometimes the evil you know is better than the one you don’t, right? Yet here I was, possibly walking into something far worse than before. What if there had been a mistake and that letter wasn’t meant for me? My eyes flickered to the letter in my backpack, knowing that it read Effie Harlow. No, it had clearly been meant for me.
I looked down at the small cellular device I had tucked into my bag. I had never owned one in my life, so when Alpha handed it to me, I wasn’t sure if the expectation was that I would call them or if it was just ‘normal’ to have one. I honestly didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know how it was being paid for, either, and I hoped that it didn’t have a monthly bill, because when I say I had nothing, I meant… nothing.
I didn’t even have their phone number. I had maybe forty dollars to my name and my bag of possessions. Most of which consisted of hand-me-downs and thrift clothes, as well as small trinkets I’d collected over the years. I had been forced to leave anything that the pack could use, which had left me with startling few things in this world. A feeling that was a lot like depression worked its way up my throat at the notion of having so little to tie myself to this plane of existence.
Why couldn’t I have a home? Why couldn’t I have some personal items I loved? A family? Why couldn’t I be around people that wanted me? Tears started to fill my eyes, but I blinked them away, knowing that crying would do me no good right now.
Especially since I had such a long day ahead of me.
I knew I wasn’t going to fit in here at Silver Falls University. I hadn’t even had a chance to use the pack computer to look up the school, but their expensive-looking brochure had shown attractive students in designer clothes lounging in front of a stunning lakefront, and all of it had my gut twisting.
I was going to stick out, and in a bad way. I didn’t know a single family, let alone a hundred, that could actually afford a seventy-thousand-dollar a year tuition bill. I mean, the money I had on me right now was the most I’d ever had in my possession, and it was less than fifty dollars. I truly believed money wasn’t everything, but I knew I needed some level of independence, some way to survive on my own. Crap. They had really put me in a bad place here.
Running a hand over the back of my neck, I resisted the urge to turn around, feeling once again as though someone was staring at me. I knew I was probably just being paranoid, because that was far more likely than someone actually noticing my small, curled-up form that was practically dipping below the back of the seat.
Bringing my hand forward, I nervously examined the dark ring of bruises that covered my wrist from two days ago when Gerald had dragged me into the living room to show Theresa the now chipped nail polish I had tried out on my fingers. The bruises had yet to fade, and honestly, it had been a hard enough hold that at one point I thought he might break my arm by accident. I hadn’t understood—still didn’t—why it was such a huge problem, but they had gotten into such a massive fight about it that I’d ended up locking myself in my room, terrified to get involved.
As I said, the few times I’d tried to step in for Theresa, she had gotten mad at me, so I had long ago stopped trying.
Plus, I didn’t need to be around for what happened afterwards. I shivered, hating that my bedroom wall had been next to theirs. I had heard way too much, and the worst part was that I had never been sure how much of what went on post-fight was consensual. I knew that sounded really messed up, but something about them and how they worked just felt… off. I didn’t know what, though, because my scope on couple dynamics was so freakin’ limited. As in limited to books and movies.
I didn’t mean sex, either. I meant legitimate romantic relationships and how healthy ones were supposed to look. Unfortunately, I was well aware of the sex part. My lips peeled up, thinking about the crude things I’d been told by my father’s friends and some of the boys who were my age.
The way I’d been cornered before, even after leaving school.
The way I heard other women talking about what their mates did to them.
Sex was everywhere in my pack, and none of it was private. Which in theory would have been fine if it hadn’t left me feeling so uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had never experienced that attraction to anyone before or if it was because I felt like I was being constantly harassed by the men in the pack, but it left a dirty taste in my mouth. Maybe that was normal for relationships, though? Maybe my books were wrong? Maybe the cruel way they talked about their wives was normal. Maybe the way that the men looked at other women was normal. Or the way that the women didn’t bat a lash about them cheating… was it normal? I prayed that wasn’t the case.
I wasn’t looking for love. At all.
But I really hoped that there was more to life than that.
2
Effie Harlow
The train continued along its path, and I wondered just how far the gap was between the previous station and Kirkwall. It had been nearly ten minutes. I was both eager to get out of the train and nervous, mostly because I wasn’t fantastic with social interactions, considering my cautiousness. I always tried to see the best in people, and I didn’t want my past to taint my future, but without knowing their intentions or how they would act towards me? It was nerve-wracking.
Shaking myself from the thought, I played with a loose frayed string that came off my worn, light-colored jeans that hung a bit loose on me. My brightly colored sneakers, which I had shaded myself, stood out in comparison to the dingy train seat in front of me. I had always loved blues and purples, so I had patterned those shades across the entire span of soft material, up to where they tied around my ankle, the plastic bottom of the shoe slightly worn and the laces more gray than white. I liked to think you didn’t notice how worn down they were because of how bright I had colored them.
Now though, after seeing everyone on the train and downtown dressed in serious, dark clothes, I found myself feeling a bit embarrassed of how I looked. My clothes were not only older than I realized but were reminiscent of craft projects that I indulged in when bored in my room. My ears heated, wondering what others thought of me when they saw my colorful secondhand clothes. Probably nothing good.
I couldn’t bring myself to be actually ashamed, though.
Honestly, the memory of wandering barefoot in Chicago in the middle of January always came to mind whenever I started to feel embarrassed. The horrible memory from five years ago that still absolutely wrecked me with fear, pain, and confusion. It was one I held onto, though, because it was the starting point of my memory, making me wonder what had come before. My eyes closed as I rubbed my temples.
Blood. That was the very first scent I recognized, the copper tinge filling my lungs as I stared at the pavement under my feet. My vision was slightly blurred, and I wasn’t positive if it was from the tears streaking down my cold face or the pounding in my head. I tried to step forward, but it felt like the earth itself wobbled underneath me, my knees breaking so that I fell onto the hard surface. My body jostled upon impact.
Where was I? Why couldn’t I see straight?
Painful memories seemed to tinge my subconscious as they filtered out and made room for a demanding, static, empty space. I tried to grasp onto them, but the excruciating shocks that shuddered through me were like a shock wave. My fingers reached out to grasp something, anything, to make a connection with something other than the torment and torture my body seemed to be reeling from.
My life force was leaving me. I could feel it being siphoned out and replaced with something else. Something more than just the static blank space that seemed insistent on pushing out all else. Before I could grasp what that blank space was, ice seemed to whip me across the face as snow froze my fingers where the cement and moisture met.
Golden marble structures that played in my memories were replaced by cement and iron structures and the sounds and smells of an urban cityscape. An unfamiliar one, at that.
I wasn’t from here. I didn’t belong here. Where did I belong?
The harsh wind blew against my ears, making it impossible to hear or focus on anything but the storm that felt like it was personally surrounding me. I could barely hear the horns around me, and lights flashed as I dragged myself to standing, trying to make my way across a stretch of pavement. Yellow lines broke through the snow and ice, leading me forward in somewhat of a straight line.
There was bile in my throat as my head spun, making me wonder if I was sick. I didn’t remember being sick before, so I had nothing to compare it to… in fact, I had nothing to compare anything to. I couldn’t remember what had come before this.
The searing in my neck told me that this wasn’t normal, though. As the sound of the horns faded in the distance, I hit into a solid brick wall. I leaned against it, my shaky fingers coming up to my neck. Hot liquid squelched between my fingers as everything shuddered around me, my eyes nearly closing.
I had a feeling closing my eyes would be a very bad thing.
I think I was crying, but my body was shaking in full tremors that pushed me forward towards a large building with a warmly lit door. I could sit there. I knew I could. I just needed a minute to get out of the wind. My skin was absolutely frozen on the outside, and on the inside… I felt as though I was going through some type of metamorphosis.
Something shifted, growing inside of me as it tried to expand out. A small almost-whine broke from my throat in confusion as flashes of a white lethal predator flashed before my eyes. Fur stained in blood, a howl echoing against the night sky that featured a bright moon and freshly fallen snow. Bloodlust and hunger like I’d never felt before had me nearly passing out.
When I finally hit the building’s steps, my hand came onto the door handle, and when it didn’t open, terror took over. A clawing sensation began working itself up through my chest as my cheek scraped against the rough wooden surface. I thought I could hear voices on the other side, but as the door opened, causing me to fall forward onto the cold, hard tile of the lobby, my vision went dark around the edges, narrowing into a tunnel.
All I could see were two pairs of shoes.
One belonging to a woman, and one to a man.
Hopefully, they would help me. Something told me that it wasn’t likely.
A warmth grew to surround me as the energy that had been fighting the clawing sensation finally filtered out, leaving me in pain but feeling far more at peace. At least I wouldn’t die feeling as if I was about to explode. My sigh was authentic.
