1: Is This Like The Empty Promises You Always Make

(Song: Up by Adelitas Way, New Medicine)

Running from your past can be tiresome. Necessity, but not always easy. Sometimes it comes barreling right back at you, full speed with teeth and claws. My past has caught up to me and facing it leaves me sick and heartbroken.

A swift kick to my luggage sends it tumbling down the steps. Reluctantly, I follow behind it. “See, I did pack, are you happy?” I groan to my father. I didn’t want to and I didn’t pack as much as I should have, but every time I tried I grew more and more nauseous. “I don’t see why I have to go anyways.”

“You haven’t seen your grandmother…or your sister in nearly eight years.” He reaches his hand out, his fingers brushing my freshly dyed ashy platinum blonde hair aside. “She misses you.” He means my grandmother, not my sister. Twyla hates me. As if I was the one that tore our family apart.

Wolves. That’s who tore our family apart. Literally and figuratively. And going back to the very town where our mother was murdered isn’t a vacation or happy family reunion. It’s a punishment and could very well lead to a death sentence.

“You have your friends tagging along and your grandmother won’t let anything happen to you.” He senses my eyeroll. She couldn’t stop mom from dying. He couldn’t even stop her from dying, so what makes me different? He ignores the unsaid concern. “It’s just for a week.”

I could end up dead in a week. Or worse. Imprisoned by an animal. My mother had secrets and she told my father the bare minimum and he told me even less. I don’t remember much about life before she died. Dissociative amnesia my father calls it. But I remember bits and pieces. I know the truth. She was running from her destiny. A destiny that was tied to a pack. And that pack is made up of monstrous humans who shift into killer beasts.

How my father fails to see that you can’t outrun destiny is beyond me. How he can offer me up after everything he went through, after everything mom went through. It leaves me enraged and speechless at the same time. Just because Twyla is still there, living in mom’s old house, not claimed by a wild animal, doesn’t mean my fate is going to be the same.

Maybe it's the first born they’re after. Maybe it’s the prettier sister they’re after. Maybe the fresher the meat, the more alluring.

It haunts my dreams. It started way before I was told that I’d be visiting my grandma. Nightmares of a large wolf with black fur and vivid blue eyes stalking me. The dreams felt so real that I refused to leave my room for weeks. It was rubbed off as trauma, but it's been eight years since mom died and the first nightmare didn’t come to haunt me until I turned eighteen, six years ago.

There’s no explanation as to why nearly two years after the incident I start to have nightmares about my dead mother? About the animals that killed her? It’s trying to tell me something. I can feel it. The memories nag at me. Burrowing into my head and getting stuck on the tip of my tongue. I know it, the answer is there, but I can’t grasp it or my brain doesn’t want me to. Not yet at least.

A loud car horn that blares from outside has me jolting in my boots. Shit. I’m already jittery. “Gotta go.” Gathering my tipped over luggage, I head for the door. My fears and concerns go unsaid, just like they’ve gone unconcerned for the last eight years, but the last two weeks more so than most. Ever since I was told that I was going back to Fairbanks.

“Be safe. Call me when you get there.” He orders before I have a chance to push past him, “I love you, Nova.”

“I love you too, dad.” Apparently so much that I agreed to go face our horrific past…alone.

As the driver’s side window rolls down blaring music pools out. Lyra, my bestie, pops her head out and flashes my father a smile. “We’ll take good care of her, Mr. Drake.” Her red hair looks brighter today, even the bleached bangs framing her face are stark white in the sunlight.

Seconds later Eden’s head, messy dark hair and all, pokes out from the backseat window, her hand waving in the air, “hi, Mr. Drake.”

I struggle to get my luggage in the back as most of the space is already taken up. “How much did you guys pack?”

Eden replies as she still hangs out the window, “you know Lyra. She had to pack her entire closet.” Sounds about right.

After cramming my bag in between theirs, I head to the passenger seat. I catch my father in the open front door of the house waving us goodbye with a forced smile. I give him a pathetic shrug silently telling him that this is what he asked for. Is he regretting it even more? I hope so.

It’s more than a five hour drive to Fairbanks. Most of the way there is light and casual. Car karaoke and gossip from Lyra’s salon job. But the closer we get, the greater chance of questions starting has my heart pounding against my chest with truths that need to remain unsaid.

Crossing that invincible border into my true hometown has my breath hitching and I end up choking on my spit. Lyra slaps me on the back trying to help, but I would rather she let me choke to death. It’s a much less painful demise than I’m faced with.

“Whoa! Excited much?” Lyra shouts.

Excited? No. The exact opposite. “Nervous.” I reply with a lie. Nervous isn’t the half of it. I’m petrified.

“Nervous? She’s your grandma. I still can’t believe you’re not staying with her.” Lyra’s concern is welcome, but misplaced. “You’re not doing that because of us, are you? Eden and I are big girls and can take care of ourselves. Or at least be unsupervised while we sleep.”

“Can you?” I question in hopes of lightening the mood. “It’s just-that’s not-I don’t…” If they only knew the reasoning behind why I’m not staying with my grandmother. That I can’t stay in my dead mother’s house she grew up in. That I can’t trust my grandmother to keep me safe. I fully intend to make it back home unscathed after this week. “We’ve been apart for so long. We might be family, but we don’t-”

“Really get along?” Eden finishes for me. She should know. She’s had an unhealthy relationship with some of her family members.

“You could say that.” They’re very aware of my estranged relationship with my sister, but not why we’re not on speaking terms. Being stalked by wolves isn’t something you can go around telling people.

“More time for us,” Lyra chimes as she takes her hands off the wheel to wave them in the air as best as she can. The car veers off to the right and she quickly corrects it with a sharp tug. She ignores our yelps of fear.

Here I thought wolves were going to rip me apart limb from limb, but my death could very well come from Lyra’s driving.

“Maybe we can go to a club." Her voice gets all low and haughty at the thought of being naughty.

No. The last place I’m going to is a club. That would be asking for trouble. I plan on staying locked in my room most of the time. Minimal exposure. Keeping myself as far away as I can from townies. I don’t need nor want to be recognized.

Some of my anxiety goes away when we finally arrive at the hotel. I’ve officially been in town for five minutes and the wolves haven’t descended. But they will. I expect them to.

Each of us heave our luggage out. Lyra’s is the heaviest or she’s the weakest. Her pale blue eyes narrow at us in effort of stopping our teasing banter, but it doesn’t prevent the rumble of laughter that we desperately try to hold back. She puffs in annoyance, the blonde strands that line her face fly in the breeze of her huffed breath. But her cheeks grow red like the rest of her hair as she struggles with the suitcase.

Finally freeing it from the trunk, it makes a loud thud as it hits the pavement. Was Eden serious when she said she packed her whole closet? I could’ve packed all of my things in a duffle bag. Refusing to acknowledge our curiosity of what the hell is in her bag, she leads the way to the front doors of the hotel.

Lyra and myself go to check in, but as I state my name for my reservation, I can feel Eden's eyes on me. "You got your own room too?"

"I’m assuming there's only two beds in your room. Where do you expect me to sleep? On the floor or with one of you two?" It’s for the best. If anything were to happen, I’m protecting them. "And Lyra snores."

"I do not," she whines as she looks from Eden to myself.

But when she turns her back to me, I nod my head vigorously, mouthing, “yes, she does.” I almost get away with it, but when I get caught, I get swatted.

We walk the halls in search of our rooms. Sadly they aren't even near each other. Lyra and Eden rave about their poolside suite on the first floor before I take the elevator to the second. Room 243 is a basic room with two queen beds and a window that overlooks the parking lot. Thanks dad.

I’m not in my room long before my phone pings with a text. Lyra demands I come to their room and get ready to hang out by the pool. With a quick reply of ‘whatever’ typed back, I take my sweet time abiding to her demand.

I dig out my swimsuit and change, but I have no intention of going in the pool, so I slip on my floor-length sheer black swim cover up. She can’t argue with me. I am in my swimsuit. This is as much cooperation as I give.

When I finally arrive at their room, they’re already in their bikinis, expectant glares eyeballing me. Lyra’s hand slaps around my arm as she yanks me inside. “What are you wearing? Where’s your swimsuit?” Before I can answer, she cuts me off, “you know what, never mind. Come look at this.”

She heads straight to the patio type door that leads directly out to the pool. Peeling back the curtain, she peeks out. In a singsong voice she says, “I spy some hotness.”

Strictly because Lyra expects me to look, not because I’m at all curious, I too peek out the window. In full view is the luxurious outdoor pool and several hotel guests crowding it, but it doesn’t take long to spot who she’s referring to. Lyra has been my friend for six years. She’s the first friend I made after moving here and we’ve been through it all. I know her type from a mile away.

They’re cute, I’ll give them that, but something doesn’t feel right about them. Two of them are twins with blonde, wild hair. One struts around the pool with a skinny girl draped over his shoulder, barely covered ass in the air. The other sits on the edge of a lounger with another stick girl kneeling behind him rubbing his shoulders. The third, with pitch black hair and several tattoos covering his body, slides his hand through his wet locks like some supermodel striking a pose.

They all have two things in common. A darkness in their eyes and a mysterious matching tattoo that is inked on all three of them like they’re a band of brothers or in a cult. But first and foremost, they all scream bad boy, which is Lyra type. Maybe that feeling that doesn’t sit right with me is labeled as none other than, asshole.

“Come on,” she demands as she whips the curtains open, “fun is to be had.” With one hand on the patio handle and the other tightly wrapped around my arm, she’s ready to drag me out if she has to, but like a heaven sent angel my phone rings.

A quick glance shows my dad’s number on the screen. Shit. I forgot to call him. “It’s dad. I was supposed to call him when I got here and I’ve been here what? Twenty minutes and I haven’t called yet.”

“Mr. Drake has always been very punctual.” Eden teases.

Lyra and I flash her a stern glare. She easily shrugs it off. I quickly shoo them out with promises of meeting them out there when I’m done.

“Promise,” Lyra whines.

“Promise.” Maybe.

I answer my phone as she muscles the patio door open, “hey dad,” I mutter, but before I can get another word out Lyra shouts, “I got her here just fine, Mr. Drake.” As Eden passes me, she greets him a little more modestly with a small hello.

I take the patio handle from her and quickly shut it in her face. It’s so loud and chaotic out there that I’m sure no one is paying attention and the odds that wolves are here is even slimmer. But my anxiety is making me paranoid.

“At least someone’s happy,” I joke.

“You forgot-”

Before he can finish that sentence, I cut him off, “to call. I know. I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” Like being a decent friend and not getting mauled.

He cuts right to the chase, “did you call your grandmother yet?”

“No.” I didn’t even call him, why would I call her? “I thought I would just show up.” Like in a few days. “It’s not like she doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“Nova.” He scolds me.

“What?” I whine. “I plan on seeing her. Promise.”

“Is this like the empty promises you always make?” He knows me so well.

“No.” I say snidely as if offended by the accusation, but it’s pretty spot on.

I can hear his groan before he says the heavy words, “how many promises have you made to your friends so far today?”

“One.” I blurt out. And of course he questions what that one promise is. “To meet them by the pool after I’m done talking to you.” I huff. “And I’m in my swimsuit, so promise fulfilled. Anything else?”

There’s a heavy silence between us. He sounds so tired as the words come out slowly, “just be careful.”

“Promise,” I tease.

I atleast get a laugh out of him before the call ends. But with the end of one miserable thing comes the next. Going out there. I watch from safely inside the room. Lyra lays on one of the open loungers suntanning, flaunting her own tattoos in hopes of gaining any one of the bad boys’ attention. Eden plays it cool as she sits at the edge of the pool with her feet in, but I catch her gaze darting over to them every few seconds.

My own gaze unwillingly scans the bad boys again. It isn’t hard to miss them. More girls crowd them now. The desperation of the flocking female bodies has me gagging. Two of them are in the pool with those same girls on their shoulders. It’s almost comical as they struggle to take each other down. The third one lets some girl trail her fingers over some of his tattoos. She points to one on his chest that I can’t quite make out. I’m sure she’s saying something completely dimwitted. Like ‘that’s hot’.

The ping of my phone knocks me back into reality. I read it in a true Lyra voice, “Get your ass out here. I can see you stalling.”

Looking back at her, I see her holding up her phone, waving dramatically at me. Ugh, the things I do for friends. One final deep breath taken, I slide the patio door open and step outside. The warm air has goosebumps breaking out across my chilled skin.

Here goes nothing.