Chapter 19

Lenore had managed to kick her duvet off her bed, it was crumpled on the floor, half unbuttoned, and spilling out of the covers. She had spent hours tossing, and turning, entirely unable to get comfortable. Finally, she gave in, and hauled herself up, almost tripping over her duvet as made her way across the room. She pulled her shoes on, and slowly closed her door behind her, careful not to wake Lorelai.

There wasn’t a person to be found, no muffled voices, breathing, or first years hidden behind corners, even as she descended the stairs. It was blissfully quiet, almost peaceful—only the creak of worn wood, and wail of wind outside, carving around the dark tendrils of the school, reaching high into the star speckled sky, could be heard.

The lanterns, usually dimly illuminating the corridors, weren’t lit, and an inky darkness lay heavy; her eyes were sharp, however, even then, shapes shifted in the low light. She tried to ignore where her mind ran to, what her fear made her see—she dug her palm into eyesocket, and the tender flesh flared—she kept walking.

Lenore looked up the stairway, to where she knew the music room was, and found the door ajar—the hair on her neck bristled—her footsteps came quieter as she ascended them; she craned her head, looking into the dimly illuminated room. It was Enid. Her anxiety lessened, and she slipped inside, softly closed the door behind her.

“Be careful to close the door if you don’t want to be found.” Lenore murmured; Enid jolted, and spun around—her heart was racing—she calmed upon seeing Lenore, who stood there, with an exhausted look on her face.

“Why are you here?” She asked, the faintest hint of concern trembling at her voice.

“You know, I could ask the same, Sinclair.” Lenore responded dryly, and slumped down onto the piano seat. Enid didn’t speak for a few long moments, instead looking down at her hands, and picking at her nails—Lenore knew what that meant, “they itch, don’t they?” She asked softly, and Enid hesitated, before nodding.

“Yeah, the moon gets to me, too.” Lenore cast a glance towards the windows, delicate curtains billowing, and moonlight carving patterns upon the floor, “I can’t sleep… that’s why I’m here.” She whispered; Enid caught it, and her tense body softened slightly.

“Yeah, I can’t either.” She said, and sat down on a spare chair; they stayed in silence for a few minutes—it was surprisingly comfortable, but Lenore could tell Enid wanted to say something, “do you get scared?” Enid finally asked, sober from her usually hyper demeanour.

“Why do you ask?” Lenore questioned; Enid looked over at the moon, and flexed her hands, they crunched almost sickeningly, like the joints were swollen. “You can transform, can’t you? Without a full moon.” She guessed, and Enid’s breathing stilled, and her heart raced—her legs visibly tensed like she was about to run.

“Ms Capri said—”

“—if you transform, you might not come back.” Lenore said, and let a concerned breath shake through her teeth.

“You know about that? She said that not many werewolves knew…” Enid trailed off, clearly unsure what she should say.

Lenore ran her teeth along her lower lip, repeatedly, until it burned—she weighed her options, and spoke measuredly, “I’ve had to learn about it, I know losing control feels like.” She said.

Enid’s voice trembled slightly when she spoke, “how am I supposed to deal with it? People like you, my pack, they would hunt me down, even my family… what happens if I can’t come back?” It spilled out, weighed by confession.

“Enid,” Lenore started firmly, “I wouldn’t, and I mean never, hunt you down; if somebody did try, they would have to go through me first.” Enid stared at her, wide-eyed, shocked, like a deer in headlights.

“You know, for someone who won’t join the pack, you really are protective.” She said.

“Just because I won’t join the Nevermore pack doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of loyalty. I have a pack, it just isn’t typical.” Lenore said, “even Wednesday, despite what she has done, could count on me, if it came down to it.”

“You’re a confusing person,” Enid said, offering a subtle smile, “I don’t know how you’re never scared, I saw you face Tyler, I couldn’t have done that if I weren’t transformed.”

“You want to know something, Enid?” Lenore asked, a bittersweet smile curving at her lips. Enid nodded. “I’m terrified.” She stated.

“What?” Enid asked, emotion snapping across her face like whiplash.

“Constantly,” Lenore laughed wryly, “I was petrified then, and I’m still living it down.”

“Then, why did you protect her?”

“Because my word is what I live by, without that, I don’t know who I would be.” Lenore said, “so, I said I’ll protect you, if you need it, and I mean it.”

“Thanks, Lenore.” Enid said.

“Any time, kid.” She responded.

Bright, morning light shined through the thin, silken curtains, billowing in the breeze which came softly, and cool through the cracked windows. The low sun didn’t cast shapes on the floor, instead it shined blindingly, eradicating shadows, and bouncing off the bright walls. Lenore’s eyes burned, tears dribbling down her cheeks—the bruise ached as she wiped her eyes clear.

“Ms Capri,” she yawned, stretching her arms high over her head. Miss Capri turned around, sheetmusic, homework, and assignments clutched against her chest; she smiled upon seeing her, but her expression grew concerned.

“You look tired,” Ms Capri said.

“Morning to you, too.” Lenore grumbled; she slumped down on the stage, covering her mouth to stifle a yawn. Miss Capri only continued to smile, a glimmer of amusement in her eye, and she sat beside Lenore, resting her papers beside her. Her smile slowly grew, as did her amused expression.

“Lenore,” she said.

“Yeah,” Lenore murmured.

“You’re staring.” Ms Capri said, and Lenore blinked, then looked away.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise.” She said.

“Clearly,” Miss Capri laughed, earning a glare from Lenore, which couldn’t have been more fond. “You do look tired, though, how did you sleep?” Her hand brushed Lenore’s, sparks trailing goosebumps up Lenore’s arm, and neither moved, they simply sat there, fingers looped together.

Lenore gave a wry smile, “I didn’t.”

“What?” Ms Capri asked sharply, earning a flinch that rippled through Lenore, and her brows drew together worriedly, “what?” She repeated softer. “You didn’t sleep? Why?” She asked.

Lenore shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “I just couldn’t.”

It was tense between them for a moment, as Miss Capri stared at her, and Lenore gave a dozed, bleary-eyed look; she scarcely noticed the impatient look on Ms Capri’s face, expectantly waiting for a better answer than she had been previously given.

“What do you want me to say?” Lenore asked, blinking through her own exhaustion.

“Lenore,” Miss Capri breathed out a resigned sigh, “I want you be honest with me.”

“Maybe you should be honest with me first,” Lenore responded, only half serious, but she found her wits returned to her when she felt Ms Capri go stiff, and her face fall expressionless, only undertoned by an unplaceable horror.

“What you do mean?” She quickly brushed it off, but her voice came sharper, and she pulled her hand away from Lenore’s.

“Enid,” she asked, instead of playing it off.

“What about her?”

“She told me,” Lenore said, meeting Miss Capri’s eye, who’s jaw grew stiff, and eyes shined dangerously in a manner Lenore had never seen before. It made the hairs on her neck bristle, and her teeth ached within her mouth, pushing past her lips as her body readied itself for a threat. She moved away, and stood up, shoulders squared.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Ms Capri said—something like surprise flashing across her face upon seeing Lenore, with her hands curled into loose fists, and once dozey gaze, turned unflinchingly predatory. “I gather you know what would happen if she remained stuck in that form, what would be expected of you, and the others.”

Lenore didn’t waver, “you think that of me?”

“It’s in your nature.” Miss Capri said, and Lenore caught the double meaning, even as she felt her head strain.

“Not in mine, it isn’t.” Lenore replied measuredly. “And I gather, it isn’t in yours either.”

“What are you suggesting?”

Lenore massaged her gums, speaking through the bone deep toothache, “I could ask the same.” Her voice had harshened with a rawness. “I may know what it’s like to be a slave to my nature, but never, and I mean, never suggest I would hurt someone I care for.” It came out in a growl, unlike Lenore’s usual voice, which was purposefully low, and forceably softened.

Ms Capri finally stood up, and the slow burning tension between them had reached a feverish temperature, but Lenore didn’t falter; she stepped forward, and looked down at Miss Capri, “what I’m suggesting,” her voice fell to a whisper, “is that you know rather a lot for a normal werewolf.”

“So, do you.”

Lenore felt Ms Capri’s hot breath feather against her lips, inches from her, and she looked away, over her shoulder, while her jaw tensed painfully, teeth feeling unlike hers, as they grew larger in her mouth; she jabbed her thumb into the muscle, and tried to shift her mouth, so it felt comfortable. She tensed when fingers wrapped around her chin, softly pulling to her look elsewhere, and Lenore obediently looked down at Miss Capri.

“What is this?” She asked, earning a cautious look from Lenore, her lips parted, but before she could question it, Miss Capri spoke again, “you said you would never hurt someone you care about, so what is this facade?” She gestured to Lenore, at her lengthened canine’s, clenched fists, and finite space between them; she ran her hand down Lenore’s tie, smoothing and tightening it as she did. Her voice dropped low, and her breath curled against Lenore’s ear, “why are you pretending you could hurt me? That you could be a threat to me?”

Lenore wanted to look away, but couldn’t; she felt a rage simmer in chest, at the idea she was uncapable of something, that she wasn’t free to do something, even if she didn’t want to, “I could be.” She whispered.

“Could you really?”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Lenore, I don’t think you could stomach hurting anyone.”

“You’re right, I can’t, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t.”

“Who have you hurt—and I don’t mean those boys, or Agnes—who have you hurt that you’ve cared for?” Ms Capri asked.

“Why do think I have?”

“Because you’ve said as much, and something haunts you; I don’t think you care enough for Agnes, or those bullies for that to be it.” She said, “and your hiding something, I know are; what won’t you tell me?”

“You are, too. Don’t think I’m blind to it.”

Lenore’s ears twitched, upon hearing sharp, familiar heels tap against lacquered wooden floors, and she jumped back, like she had been slapped; moments later, Ms Zhang rounded the corner, and watched them with narrowed eyes, a single perfect brow raised. Lenore looked over at her, forcing herself to seem less tense.

“Lenore, I thought I might find you here, we need to talk.” Miss Zhang said, and Lenore felt a pit burrow in her stomach.

“About what?” She asked roughly.

“Don’t look so excited.” Ms Zhang said, digging around inside her pocket, before removing a letter, with Lenore’s name typed on the envelope. “I emailed a few people, and managed to get someone interested in publishing your book, now it isn’t a definite—”

“—thank you.”

Miss Zhang smiled, “it isn’t a definite, but I’m sure you’ll blow her out of the water.” She looked over at Ms Capri, who stood, watching their interaction from over Lenore’s shoulder. “I do want to talk to you about something else, though, maybe we should step out for a moment.” She gestured to the door; Miss Capri stepped forward.

“Miss Yuson is my student, I’m her tutor; whatever you have to say, if it discusses school, can be talked about in front of me.” Ms Capri said firmly, and they glared at each other for a moment.

“Is it about yesterday?” Lenore asked.

“Yes,” she said.

She stiffened, “what do you have to say about it?” Lenore clenched her hands further, until her nails dug into the skin of her palms.

“Lenore, you ran out of my lesson, you couldn’t concentrate; that isn’t like you… what happened?” Miss Zhang asked softly, trying to catch Lenore’s eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nothing happened,” she replied smoothly.

“Lenore,” Ms Zhang said firmly, pushing for an answer.

“What?”

“You know, if you just left my lesson, simply because you wanted to, you will be getting detention.” Miss Zhang said, and Lenore looked up at her sharply, jaw trembling beneath its tightness.

“You know what? Take your fucking publisher, and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Lenore said; she pushed the letter into Ms Zhang’s chest, making her stumble backwards. She slung her bag over her working shoulder, and slammed the door behind her, making it shake in its hinges.

Lenore’s hot-faced anger hadn’t faded yet, curling around her ears, sinking down her neck, before weighing heavily on her chest, like a rock she couldn’t shift. Her nailbeds ached, and she kept one hand stuffed deeply into her pockets. She tugged on her bags strap as she navigated the halls, and slipped between people, quickly walking towards her next and final lesson before lunch.

She slipped into the back, where the few students who arrived before her had avoided, and sat down, bag slumped beside her on the floor. She leaned her chin on her palm, and stifled the temptation to rip at her nails or bite them down to the quicks. She flexed her fingers a few times.

Orloff rolled in the room, voice muffled through his tank, beady eyes darting around—Lenore tried to understand what he was saying, but the blood rushing through her ears was far too loud; she tried to read his lips, but couldn’t. Her skin warmed further with irritation.

A sweep of writing appeared smoothly on the board; she didn’t have the energy to question how, and absentmindedly scrawled down whatever she could recall related to what was asked. The noise of pencils scratching against paper filled the room, and the chatter quieted when Orloff snapped at people as he wheeled around the room. He didn’t linger around Lenore long, but she noticed his eyes narrow at her questioningly.

She glared tiredly into his head as he rolled away, and laid her head on the desk, trying not to close her eyes, and fall asleep. It didn’t take long for something to disturb her; she shot up like a bullet when a metal waterbottle slammed agaist the ground, and resounded metallically. She felt a sobering pain impale her chest, and darkness crept in through the edges of her vision.

The smooth, cool metal of chain adorned cuffs rubbed against Lenore’s wrists; she felt them dig into the feverish skin. Her eyes blinked open, and she saw scratched walls, a concrete floor, and darkened stairs leading up to a door, which had light bleeding through the seal. She moved her arms, and metal rattled.

She was chained to the floor.

Bile rose in her throat, and she wondered why, this time, the wolf hadn’t led her here, and why she wokem up, trapped in the vessel of her youth, seeing everything through red tinted eyes. Her heart stuttered for a moment, when she smelt the sticky sweetness of mistletoe. She shook her head, but the scent stayed stuck to the back of their throat. Her eyes scanned around the room, illuminated by a dim, flickering glow for the source of the smell.

Nailed into walls, surrounding her, the barbed leaves and pearly white berries of mistletoe hung, like a taunt. She felt a growl rise up her throat, and she tried to crawl away, only further scratching the floor. Her breathing paused when she noticed her hands, formed into black, club like paws. She hadn’t even realised what she was, that she had transformed.

The door slowly creaked open, at the peak of the stairs, and light crept through. The shadow of her parents stood, looking down at her, and she slunk away, into the darkened spaces of the room. Her eyes remained fixed on her parents, though.

“What are we going to do?” Her mother asked.

“What can we do? The doctors couldn’t do anything.” Her father responded.

“We can’t send her back there, you saw what they did to her.”

“She doesn’t look the same.” Mrs Yuson said softly.

“They changed her; what did they do?”

“Has she said anything to you? I haven’t heard her voice in months.”

“No, I haven’t. She hasn’t even spoken to Bruno.” Mr Yuson spoke, squeezing his wife’s hand softly. “I found a school, they specialise in helping cases like her.”

“You heard what the doctors said, we can’t tell anyone about what she is.” Mrs Yuson shook her head sharply, and her voice took on a begging inflection.

“We can’t keep doing this; we tried wolf camp, doctors, medication. She’s too much for us to keep, what option do we have?” Mr Yuson said, looking tearfully down at her, his daughter.

Mrs Yuson sighed tiredly, “where is this school?”

“America.”

“America?”

“Listen, I know, but we can’t just think about us, we’ve done that, and look at what happened to our daughter, she deserves somewhere she can feel safe. That isn’t here, not after whatever happened to her happened.” He said.

“You’re right, I just want her to be happy. She hasn’t been since what happened with Lorelai; they were inseparable.” She murmured, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

He leaned his head on her shoulder, “maybe she can find a new community there.” They didn’t linger long, looking down at their daughter, slunk away into the dark, and what little light that did shine into the room, reflected in her eyes like headlights.

She didn’t blink, not even as the door whined open, and light slipped down the stairs; her parents cast her a final look, and left. She relaxed, and laid down on the floor, staring up at that fateful door

I’m sorry it took so long to update, I wish I could say it will be sooner next time, but I can’t make that promise. I can either post my usual 4,500 – 5,000 word chapters, or more frequent 2,500 – 3,000 word chapters. Hope everyone has had a good day, and enjoyed this chapter.