2: No One Wants To Die Because They Had Fun

(Song: Hunted by Egypt Central)

The racing of my heart has my blood coursing loudly through my veins. The hum deafens me to the shouting bodies and playful banter. Black spots blind me to everything else besides my friends who wave and holler at my approach. Their attention is just short of a billboard and big flashing red arrow pointing down at me.

As long as I’m here I’ll never relax. I’m in a hotel for crying out loud. How would they even know I’m here? But no matter where I am, how few people know I’m here, as long as I’m in Fairbanks, the choking tightness in my chest won’t dissipate until I’m safely back in Cromwell.

On shaky legs, I finally make it to Lyra and Eden. Once I plop down onto the lounger next to Lyra who immediately starts pressuring me to come in the pool with her, but I politely decline. She got me out here, she should be happy enough. I’m not used to or comfortable around so many people, so many strangers, especially here.

She hops up to her feet and joins Eden at the edge of the pool. And then bad things start to happen.

The twins approach Lyra and Eden almost immediately. The girls that were on their shoulders are gone. They work fast. I’m speechless and on the verge of rolling my eyes as bad boy number one grazes the tattoo right under Lyra boob, “butteries, huh?” he coos. Oh God, is this him flirting?

She instantly eats it up, “They symbolize transformation. We’re always evolving into something bigger and better, more beautiful.” It’s painful to watch, but I can’t tear my eyes away. She’s good. So good that they ask them to join in some pool volleyball and of course Lyra accepts with a squeal, dragging Eden with her. But then she looks at me and with her gaze comes others.

They each meet my narrowed stare. Twin bad boy number two with longer, curlier hair tries to woo me, “we always could use one more.”

“No thanks,” I reply. Not in Hell is what I want to say. I know Lyra knows it, my truthful words, because she squints at me in a scowl silently threatening me to play nice. “Thanks though,” I retort with a forced smile. She can’t say I didn’t try.

Thankfully, they take no for an answer and guide Lyra and Eden to the center of the pool where a few other people wait. Ignoring the game and paying more attention to my phone, I don’t see someone take Lyra’s lounger until it’s too late.

Bad boy number three with his tattooed body and dark hair lays out dramatically on the lounge chair. A sigh huffing from his lips, arms folded under his head, ankles crossed. “Not many can say no to Silas and Stryker.”

I regret meeting his eyes. Such deep vivid blue eyes. “Well, I’m not easily impressed like my friends. I’m also not a people person.” Can he take a hint?

“Neither am I.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? He seems to freely give out a massive amount of attention to anyone with two arms, two legs and a head. When I don’t say some desperate reply that one of the girls that circle him would say, he starts questioning me. “With pain comes strength.” Is he stealing a page from his friend's playbook by quoting my tattoo that runs down my inner forearm? “Is that a mantra of yours?”

Embarrassed, I hide my arm from view. “It’s the truth.” He stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue the conversation. But I don’t. I’m not telling him my life story or how a painful past that I can’t even remember has somehow made me stronger. “If you want someone to swoon over you, you can go back over there.” I point at the flock of girls that aimlessly pace around, clueless without him.

My rudeness has him laughing. It seems heartfelt and genuine. Which is the opposite of what I’m going for. I want him to be insulted and pissed. Pissed enough to leave. It has me resulting in flat out insults. “And here I thought guys with tons of tattoos were supposed to be all brooding and intimidating? Not desperate.” Which he is. He’s dying for attention from the one person that won’t give it to him.

I don’t have to see the smile on his face, because I hear that small puff of laughter again. Lovely, I just made this a game. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut and ignore him. He sits up from his relaxing position and swings his legs over. His deep blue eyes burn into me as he sits perched on the edge of the lounger. “It’s a common disillusion. People with tattoos, piercings,” he’s referring to the stud in my nose, “do it to scare people away?”

“Well, it obviously isn’t working on my end.” I mutter under my breath, tearing my gaze away. His refusal of a rejection has resulted in me being a bitch. There’s something about him. It’s like he’s under my skin, clawing away at my insides. Like the tickle of fingers gliding across flesh causing goosebumps to break out, but instead of feeling good it makes you want to tear your skin off.

The lounge chair creaks as he shifts his weight. Is he leaning closer? Please don’t be leaning closer. But he has to be as his voice gets all low and husky. “I probably test boundaries more than I should. I can’t say that it isn’t thrilling to intimidate people,” oh joy, “but there was someone that saw through my bullshit once.” What is that supposed to mean? That he's not entirely heartless.

“I got this one for her,” I don’t want to look, but I do. He points to a star etched directly above his heart. It’s the same spot or close to the same spot that girl had pointed to. “The one that I let get away.”

Lucky girl. Smart girl. But any and all snarky comments I could possibly have gets caught in my throat. The sudden appearance of Lyra, Eden and the twin bad boys has me stiffening up. I hadn’t realized their little water polo game ended.

Lyra immediately dives into oversharing mode, “you have a star tattoo?” She shrieks. Please don’t. Silently, I beg for her not to do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Lyra. “That’s so weird, because-”

Through grinding teeth, I blurt out, “girls usually get star tattoos,” my eyes shift past Lyra, “right Eden?”

She stutters out her words, unsure of what to do, “yeah…oh definitely. I have a star tattoo,” she flashes them the inside of her wrist where there’s a star along with a music note and an apple core. It symbolizes our friendship. Obviously I’m the star, Lyra is the music note and Eden, well…the garden of Eden and the forbidden apple.

Of course, Lyra is eager to tell them that very same thing, but I keep the words from leaving her mouth, “it was great meeting you guys, but we had a really long drive and should get some sleep.” With the announcement of our imminent departure, I climb to my feet.

And so does bad boy number three. “Sure. Maybe we’ll run into each other again. It was nice meeting yooouuu…”

Nope. I know what he’s getting at and I’m not falling for it. I shall remain nameless. I only wish that Lyra understood that. The second his eyes land on her she melts in his hands, “Nova. Her name is Nova Drake.” Like a child with candy flaunted in front of her she continues by introducing herself and Eden. As if that makes it better.

“Nova.” The smile on his face does unwilling things to my stomach. I might vomit. “I’m Nox.” This has Lyra literally bursting at the seams, more so than she already was. Even his friends find it amusing, but Nox ignores it all and introduces his friends. “This is Silas,” bad boy number one, the twin with the slightly shorter wavy blonde hair, “and Stryker,” bad boy number two, the twin with the longer, curlier blonde hair. It’s the only way to tell them apart.

Gnawing on my lips keeps my snarky words to myself. Lyra goes as far to elbow me, forcing me to be social and nice. As far as she’s concerned, she thinks she has an actual chance at a hookup and I’m expected to assist in her achieving that. “Have a good night,” I say with another tight lipped smile.

With that, I turn on my heel leaving them behind me. Lyra quickly excuses my rudeness and her and Eden politely make their departure. I can hear both of them shuffling after me. Their wet feet hinder their steps. I make it back to their patio door and shut it before they can reach me. This isn’t my room, so I don’t care if the bad boy trio make note of it or not.

By the time they enter the suite, I’m rattled. Something didn’t feel right about them. All of them. Nox especially. Is it all in my head? Am I just overthinking things?

Lyra on the other hand is head over heels. As soon as the patio door latches shut behind her she moans, “oh. My. God.” Here we go. “Nox. Hell-o. Nova. Nox.” She stares at me urging me to make the connection, but I refuse to. “Super Nova, a powerful luminous explosion of a star. Nox, meaning darkness.”

“Nox could mean various other things.”

“But that one is the best one. Light and dark. And come on,” her voice gets louder as she gets more excited. “He has a fricken star tattoo. It’s meant to be.”

“I think you’re in love, Lyra.” I tease.

“No, I’ve got my eye on Stryker,” she retorts. Which one was that again? “Although, I would take either one of the twins.” Ultimately they look identical, but maybe their personalities differ. However, they’re tastes in girls are the same and Lyra could pass for their type. “But this isn’t about me, this is about-”

I quickly shut down her hopefulness. “That star is for some other girl that got away. From what it sounds like he’s still in love with her and she left him for his pompous, condescending attitude, so stop making crazy connections, okay.” That truth seems to shut her up for at least a few seconds. And that’s all I need. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I tell them as I approach the door.

“But, what about dinner?” Eden asks. “Mr. Drake would be very disappointed in us if we let you go to bed without dinner.” She’s always been the more tactical one. The one that remains silent taking everything in and uses logic and guilt to get you to do things. Remember, the apple is eaten. Sins have been had.

“Fine. Order something in. I’m going to change.”

Before my hand is on the knob, Lyra shouts, “no.” Dropping my head, I listen to her lecture me, “you will remain in swimsuit. You didn’t even go in the pool.”

“I kept my promise. I went out to the pool. You didn’t specify that I had to go in the pool.” I argue with her.

“Super. Nova.” That’s what she calls me when she’s frustrated with me. When my attitude gets too big. When I’m on the verge of combusting. “you do not want to see my depictive, descriptive and very articulate side.” She hisses at me. Her seriousness is more humorous than scary.

Even Eden thinks so. We’re both ticking time bombs, holding back laughter that’s seconds away from bursting free. Disappointedly, I explode first. My rush of laughter fills the room and Eden is quick to follow.

“Fine. You win. Keep the wordy monster at bay.” I tease. “Can you use those depictive, descriptive and very articulate words to order us some food?”

She grumbles under her breath, but she does in fact grab her phone and start googling places that will deliver to the hotel. She keeps her end of the deal and I’m stuck keeping mine. I remain in their room in my swimsuit, eyes lingering on the patio door more than I’d like to admit.

It only takes twenty minutes for Lyra to decide on pizza and then forty minutes for the food to arrive. While we wait, Lyra takes a shower and Eden dives into deep questions. “So, tell me about your conversation with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I’ve become great at lying, but for some reason I become a complete mess when it comes to this…boy. Her deep brown eyes try to shake me, I refuse to talk about Nox. “Did I tell you that I love the new haircut? Super cute.”

“Thank you, but…” here’s her pep talk, “you know Lyra’s not going to drop it. I’m not saying you should throw yourself on him like Ly’s doing with the twins, but you deserve to have a little fun. Maybe not with him, but with us. And if he happens to be there, oh well.”

I’m not sure if it's possible to have fun here. “For you. I’ll try.” Promise. I did admit to being a good liar and it’s a known fact that I make tons of empty promises. When Eden flashes me a wide smile, I know I succeeded in falsifying my intentions.

It’s for the best anyways. No one wants to die because they had fun. I can hear the news reports now. Girl mauled by animals, found ripped apart in the woods eight years after her mother saw the same fate. Said victim was seen having fun with her two best friends when she was lured away by an unknown assailant. Suspect is still at large.

Putting a stop to more questions or allowing speculation to poke holes in my facade, I begin to flip through channels. I settle on some lame reality show.

There’s a switch between Lyra and Eden. Lyra leaves the bathroom and Eden skips away to wash off the chlorine. Luckily, the reality TV show I chose lures Lyra in and takes up her complete attention. She dives into each person and their back story. Apparently she’s familiar with it and has already seen this episode as she lays out the entire show for me. I welcome the conversation that involves no thinking on my part.

It seems like hours pass before the hotel phone rings. It causes me to jump, which has Lyra and Eden giggling at me. I don’t budge, this isn’t my room. Lyra is the one who hops to her feet and answers it. The discussion is short. “Our food is here. I’ll be back.”

She’s gone for less than five minutes before there’s an obnoxious pounding at the door. Lyra soon hollers from the otherside. Eden opens the door to Lyra who stands there juggling pizza and drinks, one leg extended, the toe of her foot ready to kick the door again.

“About time,” she grumbles as she drops the pizza boxes onto the desk. The drinks teeter on the top of the stack. Lyra might seem like she’s throwing shade, but that’s her. She’s vetting for a spot on Desperate Housewives. She just needs to find a husband first.

With the pizza shared, drinks picked and far fetched reality on TV, the night is set. And it passes by quickly. Before we know it the pizza is down to its last few slices and Eden and myself are suddenly submerged into the ridiculousness of the show. I can’t stop myself from wondering what’s going to happen next.

When a yawn escapes my mouth, my eyes shift away from the TV to land on the clock. “Holy shit.” Is it really after midnight? “I should go back to my own room. Get some sleep.” See if I can muster up enough courage to visit my grandmother tomorrow.

High hopes. Very small ambitions.

They each settle into their chosen beds as they shout their goodbyes at me. “Don’t wake me up before nine,” I holler at them before I close the door, cutting off their replies. They’ll probably call my room or come knocking on my door at seven a.m. Lyra tends to run on three hours of sleep and Eden is a stickler for routine.

The hotel halls are empty and gives off an eerie feeling. Apparently, I’m unable to make up my mind on which is more daunting. Busy and chaotic, surrounded by strangers or vacant and spooky, with the occasional drunk.

I get the elevator to myself and almost make it to my room before spotting someone. Only three doors down from my room, I catch a flash of dark, dark brown hair rounding the opposite corner.

Oh, please God no.

Frozen in the middle of the hall, I seize up. The seconds add up and I lurch forward so aggressively that I nearly fall on my face. Frantic, I fumble with my key card desperate to get inside. If they are on my floor, which I highly doubt, I can’t be seen. They seem like cocky rich pretty boys, they have to have a poolside room like Lyra and Eden. Right?

It takes a couple of tries before that little red light turns green, but once it does I slam the door handle down so hard that the snap of it echoes through the hall. Throwing myself inside, flipping that little lever that all hotel rooms have as a sort of extra lock, I battle the panic attack that floods through me.

The erratic beat of my heart has me hyperventilating and my chest searing as I can’t quite catch my breath. Maybe he was visiting one of the girls from the pool. But that only makes that sick feeling in my gut increase. What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just some douchebag, not some psycho killer. And I do not, I repeat, do not have an inkling of a crush developing.

Falling face first onto the mattress, I lay there. Do I mean to fall asleep in my bathing suit and swim cover up? No, but it happens anyways.

The night air is thick and damp from a passing storm. I always end up here. At the very spot my mother was found. The thick woods just feet away from the ditch she was left in. Standing in a puddle on the dirt road, my eyes glued to the deep trench. Is this the exact spot she died at? Probably not. It all looks the same, but it’s this street, these woods.

All signs of life are gone even though the woods should be thriving with bugs, birds and small rodents. But nothing’s here because something large is stalking the forest. Snapping branches and rustling leaves from the woods behind me, across the street, have my legs going weak. It takes everything I can muster up to just twist around to stupidly and curiously see what it is.

There’s no missing the shine of a pair bright blue glowing eyes that stare through the branches seconds before its large fur covered body steps out from the treeline. Like a predator stalking its prey, the large wolf approaches with steady, calculated steps. It just found itself a meal.

We’re in a face off. My heart nearly comes to a painful stop as its lips peel back to reveal long sharp teeth. In a matter of a few strides it climbs out of the ditch to stand on the edge of the road directly across the street from me. It doesn’t move as if assessing if it will have to chase me down or not.

My flight instincts kick in and I take off down the pothole filled road, but I don’t get far before I’m tackled to the ground. In a mess of tangled limbs, human and beast, we tumble down into the ditch. I’m not surprised when I find myself flat on my back and the black wolf hovering over me. One of its large paws steps on my shoulder pinning me to the ground. Those razor sharp claws digging into my flesh.

But it's those large blue eyes that hold my attention. Stuck, paralyzed, I lay there as the animal lowers its mussel inches away from me. Hot breath assaults my face as it lets out an annoyed growl. It has me flinching, begging for my life, but there’s no way a wild animal can understand my cries. It’s to be expected when its teeth sink into my unpinned shoulder, crunching through my bones.

My own scream has me falling out of bed. Shit. Sweat slicks my skin and my hands are shaky as if it was real. It was just a dream. A dream I’ve had plenty of times before. It always ends the same. With me bleeding out in the ditch just like my mother.