Elara
By morning, the forest appeared to be closer.
As soon as I opened my eyes, I noticed it. Underneath the everyday noises of my area—distant vehicles, a barking dog, the hum of somebody's lawn sprinkler— ran something calmer and deeper. One slow pulse. It was breathing just like the globe itself.
I lay immobile, heart pounding, gaze fixed at the roof. I reminded myself to get a grip.
I had not slept a lot. I saw flashes of fur and moonlight every time I passed off; felt the echo of firm arms surrounding me; heard a growl that throb through my bones rather than my ears.
I turned onto my side and crammed my head in my pillow.
Stress was this. Trauma. Almost being eaten by... a delayed response to humiliation and betrayal. No. I sharply cut off that thought.
Whatever I had heard last night, whatever I had sensed, it couldn't be what my brain kept advising.
On autopilot, I crawled out of bed and set myself for school. The crisp morning air clung around me as I emerged outside. I inhaled and halted.
The planet opened into extreme detail.
From someone's newly watered garden three houses down, I detected wet earth. I sensed the faint whiff of petrol from a car that had passed just minutes earlier. My neighbor's coffee aroma wafted through the opened across-street window.
My breathing faltered. That was not customary.
I shook my head forcefully as though I could move the feeling. I murmured, "You're overslept." "That is all."
Still, the sensation remained.
The moment I walked inside Crestwood High, it buzzed with activity.
Whispers followed me along the hallway, faint but distinct. I intercepted bits: hallway, teacher, Mark; each term stung my skin.
I held my head up.
I wasn't going to satisfy their wish to hear me crack if they were going to speak.
Mark located me next to my locker. "Elara," he said, starting to cross my path. "Please."
I rigid. My senses honed without my permission follow every movement, every change in his tone. Too sweet and powerful, his cologne caused my stomach to flip.
"What do you want?" I questioned.
Frustration etched across his face, he ran a hand through his hair. "I messed up. That is known to me. But you kissing him...?
"Don't," I snapped. You are not allowed to be enraged.
"I'm not furious," he said swiftly. "I am afraid." That was unexpected to me.
"Scared of what?" He turned his gaze down the aisle. "of losing you."
Something in my chest warped, yet it was not pity. It was exhaustion.
"You lost me already," I replied softly.
His jaw contracted. "Because of a mistake?"
I corrected, "Because of a choice." "And because you lied."
He reached for my arm. I backed off.
Heat shot under my skin and the air seemed to thrum. For a split second, an image flashed through my mind; Mark on the ground, me standing over him, stronger than I had any right to be.
That idea startled me.
"Don't touch me," I said once more, my voice calmer than I felt.
He looked at me, something black flashing behind his eyes. "This is not over."
"No," I replied. "It is."
My heart beating, I walked away before he could answer.
English classes were hell.
Though I sat down and kept my eyes forward, it was impossible to disregard Mr. Thorne—Adrian. Every move he made recorded like a ripple over water. His voice sank under my skin, warm and grounding in a way that defied logic.
Once as he was elucidating an assignment I experienced a sudden rise in something.
Tension Furiousness. Clear and deliberate. I looked up quickly.
He focused his gaze on Mark, seated two rows over with crossed arms and clenched jaw. The space between them felt electrified for a heartbeat, like a cable pulled too taut.
Then Adrian blinked and shifted away.
The strain lessened.
My heart missed not. Was it a dream?
I gulped and pushed myself toward the board.
I had frayed nerves by lunch.
Chloe watched me over her sandwich with brows tightly drawn. You seem restless today.
Am not. "You flinched when someone dropped a fork."
I sighed. "I slept none."
She checked me for a short moment. "Mark has been staring at you as if you kicked his dog."
"That's his problem."
"And Mr. Thorne," she said thoughtfully, "keeps appearing as though he's about to kill someone."
I gagged on my drink. "What?
She said quickly, "I'm kidding." Then stopped. "Mostly."
I sighed. "This will never end."
Chloe extended her hand across the table and grasped mine. It will. Eventually.
I wished she was correct.
The afternoon dragged on. My senses remained sharp as though my body was always on high alert. Sounds were louder. sharper colors. My and others' emotions seemed closer, heavier.
Relief flowed over me as the last bell went.
till I left outside.
Low and hefty clouds were rolling in, the heavens had darkened. Far off, thunder rattled and a sound resonated in my gut.
Walking faster than normal, I turned toward the woods several times. Silent, the trees cast shadows between their boles.
I almost made it to my street when I discovered someone was chasing me.
I slowed my pace. Their's did as well.
My heart pounded. I spun around and stopped abruptly.
Mark was a few feet back, rain starting to spatter his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Ensuring you arrive safely," he stated.
"I wasn't asking you to."
He moved toward. "You've been behaving strangely."
That is not your business.
"Everything about you is my business," he yelled.
Anger burned, hot and quickly. "You lost that privilege."
Above thunder thundered, causing me to jerk. Cold drops soaking my clothing began the rain in earnest.
Mark's voice fell. "You believe you're better than me right?"
I looked at him. "I believe I should have better."
His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.
Pain intensified, yet something else grew under. - Power.
I rotated and quickly released myself, which astounded both of us. Mark staggered back, looking at me as though I'd developed fangs.
"What the hell," he exhaled.
My heart was racing as I gazed at my own hand. I had not stretched. Hadn't given even a shot.
Just as startled, I said, "I—I don't know."
Another noise slashed the downpour. A hiss.
low and near.
Mark's head jerked toward the woods. "Did you catch that?"
Though I was terrified, underneath was something different. acknowledgement.
"Go home," I said swiftly. "What?" "Now."
Once more, the growl came louder this time.
Mark lost his courage. Eyes wide, he moved back. "This spot is wrong."
He ran. My heart pounding, I stood there with rain lashing my hair to my face.
A pair of gold eyes shone from the tree's perimeter.
They watched me purposefully rather than with hunger.
The rain intensified, obscuring my eyesight. The eyes were gone when I blinked.
That night I had no running dreams.
I dreamt of standing.
Facing the woodland with my head erect, power humming beneath my skin, something old and patient waiting for me to seize it.
When I awoke, thunder sounded like a pledge.
Deep inside me something responded, too.