Chapter 2: Chapter 2:
I knew he was here before I saw him. The ashtray vanilla smell is a scent I will never forget. The dusty, nose watering aroma of his skin always made being around him unbearable.
I look to my left and see my dad, Jack, standing beside a red dodge truck. His green eyes regard me warily before beckoning me over with one of his hands. I begrudgingly pull my luggage behind me and keep my eyes lowered towards the pavement.
"You sure look rough. Eat one too many Twinkies, sweetie?" Is his greeting.
"It's great to see you too, dad," I say without looking at him.
"Get in, we have a long drive back," Jack turns and opens the driver side door.
I lift my luggage into the bed of the truck and then sit in the front passenger seat. I am immediately overwhelmed by the powerful smell of ashtray. Flakes of ash litter the dashboard and floor, and when I scoot over on the seat I realize some have smudged my black jeans.
He grabs a cigarette out of a carton and flicks a lighter to the tip. Smoke swirls within the small compartment of the vehicle and I choke at the awful smell. It seeps into my nostrils like acid and I desperately open the window for fresh air.
"Don't open the window, it's freezing out," he mumbles over the cigarette and I'm baffled by his disgusting behaviour already.
"And kill my lungs? No thank you," I open the window fully, thankful his truck is an older model and has manual window openers.
I stick my head out the window for the majority of the drive up the mountains.
At least one thing about this new situation is that I now have access to the vast escape of nature.
When we pull in front of his house, I see his wife and her three children playing in the snow. They stop and stare as I jump down from the truck, and I can't help but feel unwelcomed when they do not greet me. I take my luggage from the truck bed and turn back to them nervously.
"So, this is real then?" His wife, Carol, says.
He ignores her and strides up the stairs towards the front door.
"Come on in," Carol says and leads me to the house. Her children, one of them my age, follow along.
"You'll take the guest room, the one you stayed in last year," she nods down the hall while I take off my shoes.
"Thank you," I mumble, feeling out of place.
"Don't thank me, thank your father," she raises an eyebrow and turns away from me.
I walk to the room and when the door closes behind me, I finally feel safe.
What have I gotten myself into?
"Riley," Jack's voice wakes me from my slumber.
"Yeah?" I respond groggily and rub my tired face.
"We're going out to dinner, so we'll see you later."
"I-" I go to move and then stop. 'We'll see you later', as in 'you're not coming.'
I feel my stomach rumble at the thought of food and realize I haven't eaten all day.
"Okay," I reply and lean my head back against the headboard of my new bed.
His footsteps move down the hall and I feel more alone than ever. This feeling won't ever stop, I guess. It's not just everyone else, but also me. I can't seem to fit, like a puzzle piece stuck in the wrong box.
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep again.
I awake with a start and lift myself on the bed, afraid of the thundering sound that nearly shook the entire house. I move to the window and peak through the blinds, seeing nothing but soft snowfall. The house has an eerie silence to it, as if my voice could echo a thousand miles through it if I spoke. I make my way towards my bedroom door and listen for any sign of life, either breathing or a heart beat.
And I sense many.
I open the door as quietly as I can and peak my head through the crack, watching and waiting for the owners of those hearts to make themselves known.
No movement on their part.
I decide to move from the room and tiptoe across the hallway, leaning back on the wall before the opening.
I stand here for what seems like hours, and when nothing appears, I resolve to move towards the living room.
But I stop when a voice speaks from within me. It is like an inner voice, one involving a conscience setting.
But it's not me. No, this voice is one I have never heard before. It echoes in my mind as if it were my own voice, but I know it is not by the primal instincts pumping through my veins. It is feminine in nature, and rough and wild in tone. A woman far beyond my years.
*Don't go there. Listen to me. I want you to go back to your room and go out through the window.*
My nostrils flare in an attempt to calm myself, my lungs breathing in deep, short breaths.
*You don't have time to dawdle. Just do as I say, now!*
I go back into the room and shut the door, making an effort to be quiet in the process. I am under the impression that this is a dream, or a nightmare. But nonetheless, even if it's a dream, I won't allow myself to come to harm. There's enough harm in living, I don't need any more in my sleep.
I hesitantly open the window and brace myself for the cool air. Just as I move out the window, another house shaking sound echoes around me.
But this time, it sounds closer to my room.
I squeeze through the window, my heart beating erratically as I aim to be quiet in every move I make. Just as I climb out onto the snow, I hear the bedroom door open with a soft creak. At first I assumed it was opened due to the breeze from the open window, but that is not the case.
I hear the heart beat of the person before I see them.
*Run as fast as you can, Riley! Run for your life! Run!* The voice shouts within my mind, so loud that my ears throb.
I do and don't look back.
I run into the woods in my bare feet, the wind and snowflakes hitting me in the face like sharp ice. The air chills me to the bone, but the cold is the least of my worries. Whoever was in my room was a threat, and I'm not about to face that terror just yet.
*Run faster! They're hot on your trail!*
I hear a loud bang from far behind me and then the air buzzes at my left ear. The snow in front of me makes a sound of impact, and I know from media that it was a gunshot.
Someone is shooting at me.
I cry out when more bullets seem to rain down on me.
Is this the end?
*Keep going Santana! You can make it! Just keep running, and don't quit. If you die, I die.*
I want to scream for help, but I know I can't in fear I'll be found out.
In a frenzy, I wasn't paying attention and a fallen log catches my foot.
What a cruel joke.
Damn it! No!
I crawl forward as fast as I can and hide behind a tree. The snow bites at my skin and I wait in pain as I hear footsteps crunch in the snow around me. I feel my cheeks and realize I'm crying, but that's expected.
I smell them as they come closer, and I wonder how I am going to get out of this situation without a weapon of my own.
What do I do?
The voice does not respond and I take it that's my que to stay quiet as well.
*Be quiet, dear. They can't see you as it is much too fog ridden. Stay put for now.*
"Who are you?" I say in my head.
No answer.
And no sound of movement from my stalkers. But I know they are there. I can smell them and hear the rapid sound of their small hearts beating.
*Shit.*
Suddenly a man wearing a long, black trench coat appears behind a tree, his gun ready and aiming in my direction. His face has no emotion as he moves towards me, and I know whatever I say next will be pointless. He has no soul.
But I try anyway.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my voice sounding much louder among the silence of the forest.
"Wrong question. Any last words?" he smirks and smoothes his finger over the trigger of the gun.
Before I can respond, I hear screams echoing off in the distance and bullets being fired at a rapid pace.
My assailant turns his body with the gun and yells, "Hey!"
He gains no answer. Not even the sound of a bullet being set free from its prison.
Silence.
I can see fear in his eyes, smell the perspiration leaking from the pores of his body. His heart rate increases as each second ticks by, and so does mine. We wait, and when nothing happens, he turns to me with panic and rage boiling in his eyes.
He points the gun at my head, and I cry out, "Please! Please don't…"
The man screams as he's tackled to the ground, the sound of a gunshot piercing my ears and the bullet lodging into the tree I was hiding behind. Had I been standing, the bullet would have found a home in my skull.
I don't stick around and instead take off running further into the forest.
What I just witnessed was more frightening than facing the gun head on.
My savior had not been a normal passerby, but a wolf.
A wolf.
And wolves run in packs.
I take off running for my life.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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