Rejected Mate and Following Fate

The tears mist my eyes, my throat swelling so I almost can't breathe as ache hits me low in the gut and threatens to make me
crumble. I push the note back inside quickly, trying to combat it and flick through the cash, mentally counting almost two hundred
dollars and it breaks the wall that's been holding in the tears. I slump down onto the floor, like a disheveled sack and begin to cry,
holding it close to my chest and completely break down. It's not just for this, but for everything.
Why now did I find my pack, at a time when I thought I had no other option? Why would the fates give me something closer to a
real home, only to make it unreachable by the tiniest stretch?
I have to pull myself together and stop being weak. None of this matters, and it doesn't change things. I have to get my crap
together and stick to what I decided. I have to stay strong and determined. I can't break, because if I do, I won't be able to put
myself back together.
I pull myself to get up and walk to the closet, despite heaving with wracking breaths, sniffing, as I try to stop the tears. I have to
find some sort of bag to pack my shit up and focus on doing, not feeling. Luckily, whoever brought my things from the orphanage,
packed some of them in a large backpack that had been Vanka's. I drag it out of the bottom corner, holding it for a second, a
fresh wave of pain twisting my insides as I stroke across the corner where she wrote her name in a black marker pen. Bold,
jaggy letters, that somehow represent who she was in life. I numb it out, swallow it down, and begin to haul out essentials and
stuff them inside.
I need basics, like a couple changes of clothes, toiletries, the money, the snacks I have in my room. I need something to sleep
with too, like a blanket to lay on the ground, and something to carry water in, just in case I can't find a stream or river in hours. I
don't know what else to pack, and I end up shoving things in haphazardly. A book I never got to reading, the iPod that was
among my belongings, and then I realize I probably won't be able to charge it if I stay in the wilderness and put it back on the
shelf. I find a lighter, a swiss pen knife that I kept among my treasured items from my father's possessions. Some old camping
matches, and his flint stick for making fires, should I run out of the others.
I push through my stuff and come to Colton's grey t-shirt, pausing painfully, recognizing it as the one he gave me to wear when I
shredded my clothes. I thought I 'd given everything back to Meadow for him, but this still remains, like a scar on my heart. His
human smell still lingers in the fabric, despite it being washed, or maybe I'm just conjuring it up for myself, his scent so ingrained
in my head that I will it to come back at me. I impulsively push it in the bag, stroking it for a second too long, and zip everything
up inside. I shouldn't take a part of him with me, for my own sanity, but I can't bear to take it back out.

I keep checking my watch, even though I know I have another 3 hours before they assemble for dusk patrol. I have to kill time
without going back downstairs and acting weird. I need to occupy myself up here until it's time to go, without obsessing and
driving myself crazy.
A shower!!! The thought hits me... that's an idea, and a nap if I can force it. Refresh myself, change into more suitable clothes
than this sport pant and t-shirt duo I have sweated all over. Tasks will pass the time and keep my brain centered.
I pull my clothes off without hesitation, throwing them in my wash basket and head to the bathroom quickly. Yanking my hair
down from my ponytail and turn on the shower, testing it before I go to step in.
Lorey? You there? Colton's voice hits me in the center of my forehead, the last thing I was expecting and I almost slide with
surprise as I lay my foot on the wet shower floor, grabbing onto the door to stop myself falling, like a newborn fawn on unsure
legs, almost crashing into mayhem.
For the love of all that is holy!! Why are the fates screwing with me today?
Yes, what do you want? I snap, a little harshly, instantly remorseful at my knee jerk reaction to him, then not, when anger kicks
me in the butt and reminds me what an ignorant asshat he is. That he's all good to reach out now, after an unexpected brush
with me downstairs, that clearly pushed his need to contact me button a lot harder. I rub my bruised shin which bashed the
shower screen and jump in under the hot water instead of standing out here like an idiot.
I just.... after seeing you downstairs..... I wanted to make sure you're doing okay. I can pick up on the hesitation, the agony in his
tone and I end up sighing heavily. Madness wavering, because I'm a fool when it comes to him sounding like this, this boy, and
against all my better judgements, I soften my tone when I should be cutting him off instead.
Why are you reaching out? We both know what you're going to do, can we just not do this? He's killing me, making all those
emotions spiral up and mess with me all over again and I need to be stronger than this. I need to bring back the bite to my voice,
the steel to my resolve, and end this before I make myself even more confused.
I can't seem to stop myself. I can only go so long and the need to see you or hear you gets too much. I have no will power when
it comes to you. Back to his hot, cold, bullshit and I know if I let myself get drawn in again, it's only going to go like every other
time. A couple days of pulling close and then he backs off and leaves me feeling desolate again. I get it, I do, because the need
for him is always stronger when we have some sort of contact, but I'm not playing anymore. It's not helping either of us, and as
much as I love him, I have to do this.

I have a solution... every time you feel like you have to talk to me... go talk to Carmen. I'm sure she'll love that. I focus on
something to be pissed about and it does the trick. Moody, bitchy tone initiated. I can always count on my broken-hearted
jealousy to find the fire in my soul. I sound as bitter as he makes me feel, and I'm glad the water is pouring over my face and
camouflaging the tears that have started to fall of their own accord. I have zero control of that right now, and glad he can neither
see nor hear them.
I deserve that. I don't know what to say to you. I've been a coward for days because I can't face you. I guess we both know
what's going to happen in a week's time. I don't know how to say the words to you, or how to say sorry for what I'm going to do.
In that one little statement he confirms my worst fears and solidifies my decision. Ripping what's left of my shredded mutilated
heart out, and stomping on it all over the floor until there's nothing left but mess. He's chosen to go through with marking her and
this is his goodbye. His confirmation.
Then don't. Maybe just leave me alone until it's done, and then we'll see what happens from there. I need to go. I have to go do
chores. I lie, trying to sound tough. Mentally scathing in tone, even if my body is starting to shake with the buildup of sobbing
coming my way. Trembling as I try to hold it in, breathing fast and shallow. Throwing cold and snappy in there, while my limbs are
quaking with the effort, but I can't let him know what it is I am planning on doing. He would stop me, even with his mind made up.
His need to protect me would overrule everything else.
Right, chores, of course. I have to go assemble for patrol in a couple hours too. Enjoy your chores.... I guess, I'll see you around.
He lingers, saying it slowly as though looking for a reason to not let this end.
Yeah, you too. Now I gotta go. Bye. I don't give him a chance, to linger more, or to reply, sensing his hesitation so I take control.
I'm the one to close the door on our connection and shut it down dead as I do. Doing something I haven't ever done to him, it
was always him that did it to me, metaphorically shutting it, bolting it tight, and pushing the soundproofing button on our link so
he can't come back anymore. I don't want him getting through, I mentally lock it and toss the key aside. I'm not going to lie, it
feels like I just stabbed myself in the chest with a dull object, and I gasp sob when the dead silent noise consumes that part of
my mind. It's horrendous to know I'm the one to cut him off but I have to do this for my own sanity, I can't have him popping into
my brain anymore. Never again.
I stop for a moment to process the conversation, and despite trying so hard to be strong, I end up sitting on the floor under the
full force of my shower head, and sobbing my heart out until I can't breathe with the effort. The doubts start to slide in, and I have
to keep chastising myself for being so stupid.
This is why he's stayed away, because it makes both of us weak and clouds our judgment. I should have known seeing him
would push him to contact me. It's harder when we do, especially touching, and we did when we collided. I probably played on

his mind after I left because of that simple moment, and I'm just as pathetic, sitting here crying over him. I shouldn't have
responded to him at all, he shouldn't have reached out. It's just proof that our bond is powerful, no matter what we try to do, and
neither can control the way it keeps bringing us back together.
I hate the fates and this infernal bond. It's messing up everything and I've no control over my feelings anymore. I thought I was
strong, but when it comes to him, I'm an idiot. I'm a fool for him in every way, and I can't even stay mad, or hateful, no matter
what he does, because the second I get a chance at connecting, I let him. I shouldn't have left the link open all week; I should
not have let myself get taken in for even a second. It should have been done the second I decided I was leaving and not given
him a window of opportunity. I won't make that mistake again, for sure.
I yank myself up, pull my head out of my ass and aggressively wash down while refusing to break down anymore. It's the past.
It's not where I need to be mentally.
I wash my face until it feels raw, wiping away tears I don't want to cry anymore, and shampoo my hair with vigor as though
cleansing my head of thoughts and feelings. I finish up fast, tug a towel on when I step out, and focus all my efforts on drying
quickly, rubbing my hair as dry as I can get it, before combining it into a sleek ponytail and pulling on fresh underwear and
clothes. I slide on jeans, a tank, and sweater, pull on some socks, and sneakers, and take a last look around the room for
anything I want to add to my backpack.
I tidy my room, make the bed, and then lay down on top of it and try to force myself to take a nap to kill some time, staring
blankly at the ceiling and refusing to let my mind wander back to him, us, or this crappy situation.
There's a noise outside my door that makes me flinch, and I pause, stare at it, praying to god he hasn't decided to come here
and start this shit all over again. It's what he does... and I hold my breath, listen intently, my own heart beating loudly in my own
ears as panic sets in.
I can't see him... I can't let him sway me, or touch me, or get close. My heart will betray me if I do.
It's followed by the squeak of one of the cleaning carts and I exhale in relief when it rolls right on by my room and fades into the
distance. My body weak with relief, and I sprawl out star shaped on my bed, exhaling so heavily I let out a whoosh noise and
then moan at my own stupid despair.
Stop freaking out, Alora. You're going to get yourself in such a mess and not be able to follow through. Relax, breathe, count.
I put everything into doing just that, remember the techniques I used to use when I stayed in the home and couldn't relax or
sleep on nights when everything got to me too much. I picture a meadow, a sweet-scented field full of pretty flowers, and one by

one as I walk through them, I count the heads, picking them out, touching them as I go. I visualize the colors, the feel of their
softy silky petals on my fingers, and the way the subtle scent blows around on the breeze. Coming to me in mixed smells as they
all dance and sway in ripples. It helps me drift into a calmer state of mind. The noise of nature drowning out everything else in
my mind's eye. If I can just focus my energy for a little while longer, then I can get through this. Once I'm out of here and on my
way, it'll be easier.
It seems to work, I drift into a semi hazy state of rest and before I know it, an hour or more has passed and it's getting dull
outside.
I come to, aware I've lost time and must have slept, blinking at the sudden light change of the space around me and check the
clock on my wall. I'm shocked that it's been more than a couple of hours since I came up here already. I guess I spent a long
time in the shower to begin with and I hop up woozily, pacing to bring the nerves back in line that are firing up and wakening my
senses.
It's early yet, but I don't think I have it in me to wait any longer, and I stalk to my window to look out over the back of the pack
house. It's deserted back here, still too light for the guards to take up position and maybe it's a sign I shouldn't wait until the dusk
hour. Maybe too many will be out there, and I might not be able to make up excuses if I get stopped trying to make my way out.
Everyone should be running around, doing chores right now, so I might actually have a better chance if I do it now.
A quick plan comes to mind, and I turn, picking up my damp towels from the laundry and wrap them haphazardly around my
backpack, adding my sweats so they look like a bundle of dirty clothes. I had intended scaling down my window later if I could,
but this way I can walk through the house, as though I'm late for laundry duty. If anyone sees me then I'm just collecting clothes
and I can use the exit in the hall before the laundry room to access the rear of the house. It's a solid plan, and I don't waste time
in pulling myself together.
I bundle my faux pile up in my arms, checking in the new mirror that was hung in here the other day to see if my backpack is on
show. Satisfied it isn't, I head to the door, take one last look around my room, and take a deep steadying breath.
It's time to do this.
I use one hand to haul it open, slide out, and head left towards the back stair down to the first floor. The one that's closest to my
door and brings me out in the same narrow corridor that leads to the back exit and the laundry door. It's perfect. I don't know why
I didn't click on this before and maybe this is the fates trying to make up for messing with me.

I pass a few people who are lugging carts and hoovers from room to room and keep my head down, not really noticed by them,
wishing I'd worn a hoody so I could pull it up, but it's too late now. I stick on my route, turn into the stair, scale it in seconds in
hyper speed and then head along the final corridor to freedom.
Soon as I get near the door I look around, see no one is out here despite the hustle and bustle and steam coming from the
nearby closed door to laundry, and head out the back door instead. No one is back here either, oddly. It's either good fortune, or
someone up there is giving me a break. I'm aware a lot of windows look this way though and I'm still not free and clear.
I unwrap my bag, pull it onto my back and kick my dirty clothes and towels in a nearby bush. Look around before sticking up
against the house, back sliding along the harsh brickwork, eyes darting all around me to check no one is around. I almost crawl
under the window to the room I'm meant to be in right now, holding my breath every inch of the way. Heartbeat's crazy fast and
racing, my breaths shallow and hurried. My face damp with perspiration because I'm scared to hell of being caught and marched
to Juan Santo.
I stick in the flower beds, stepping over them so I don't trip, up tight to the walls, and duck under every window I get to. Taking it
slow, trying to remain silent as I do, and battling my own shaking limbs. I'm heading for the tree line which runs one side of the
manor and once I get in there, I can run as fast as my body allows me, relatively unseen in its dense close-knit woods. It extends
for a couple of miles right out of the valley and into the farmlands beyond. I can't turn as I don't want to ruin my clothes now, I
only have two full outfits, but I should be able to speed out without doing it.
I hold my breath when a door swings open behind me, freezing in place, half crouched, and eyes widening in horror. I glance
back, seeing it swing out into view and my heart skips a beat, sweat rolling down my forehead from my hairline. No one comes
out, though a voice waves my way closer than I expected.
"Yeah, leave it open, it's like a god damn sauna in here. It's inhumane making us work in this shit for hours on end." I don't
recognize the female voice and whoever opened the door mumbles in response, retreating inside, and fading in volume level.
I exhale, relaxing heavily, thinking my legs might give out with that little moment of shock, move my ass back into gear and run
crawl the rest of the way, feeling lightheaded.
As soon as I hit the tree line, I pull myself behind the biggest trunk I can find and use it as a viewpoint to check if anyone saw me
come over here. Taking a much-needed minute to pull myself together, breathe properly, and lean up against the rough bark until
I regain my strength, and the wobbliness in my leg's fade. I check my surroundings, surprised that there is literally no one at all
out here, but as Juan has made it clear for days the vampires can't be out in daylight, I guess that's why. Everyone is busy doing

what they're meant to be doing, and I can hear voices on the wind from the front of the manor, hinting that a lot of those with no
chore work are assembled in the front field. I won't get another chance like this.
I put my head down, turn into the direction I want to go and set my legs in motion with no intention of slowing down, stopping, or
looking back, until there is at least five miles between me and Radstone. I feel like I may have a heart attack as soon as I set in
motion, but I keep one strong thought at the center of my mind.
I'm finally free.... don't let up until I'm sure of it.