Welcome to the Family

52

I am changing Denver's gang name to Westland Wolves. The last name of Noel, his mother and Denver will be Westland. The gang may might be referred to as Westies in future chapters (more explained within the chapter.)

You all like Sebastian. See how many of you like him after this chapter 🤣 How many of you play out scenarios in your head that make you upset and would likely never happen?

***

I dreamt of the graves, the ones we played on as children. Although we didn't know it at the time.

Jaime laughed behind me, as we twisted and
"Come on, Maisie, give me the necklace or I will behead you and your brazen friends." He yelled with a laugh.

I giggled, hoping over a log, foot splashing in a puddle. I stumbled over an piece of brush but arms caught me, my big brother slinging me over his shoulder. "Gotcha."

I struggled to get free but he had a tight grip on the back of my legs.

"We'll, well, well, what do we have here? A spy?" Ten-year-old Cameron taunted, grinning down at me. I kicked my foot out at him but he dodged it and laughed. "You'll be our hostage."

I pouted, shoulders slumping. Cameron and Jaime headed back to their fort, made up of small tree branches and tarp they got from our fathers truck. When we turned towards their entrance, Isobel and Micaela stood with their weapons drawn, a disgruntled Ashton in a hold by our older sister.

Isobel had a bag slung over her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. She had their entire stash of goodies. Micaela laughed. Our plan worked.

"We were played," Ashton mumbled, struggling in Micaela's chokehold. "Let me go, you bi-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll wash your mouth with soap," Jaime warned and let go of my hand.

I looked up at Cameron and grinned. He playfully narrowed his eyes. "You cheeky little monster ... you managed to trick us into thinking you were a hostage but you were the trap all along."

"Yeah because we're smarter than you."

Cameron scoffed. "Nonsense."

A scream of horror in the distance made my skin crawl. I spun around in the direction it came from and faced

"Help." Someone screamed, piercing my ears. "Help ... Jaime, Cameron ... someone please help me."

Micaela.

I twisted around, to see everyone gone. "Cameron?"' I called out, hoping he'd show up. He didn't and no one else did either. Another scream, my sister's scream, echoed through the woods.

I started running. "Micaela? Mickey!" I called, stumbling over a fallen tree. "Mickey, where are you?!"

Her screams were horrific, painful, agonizing. My heart pulled in panic and dread, the woods that I played in for years becoming unrecognizable. Grasses and weeds and wildflowers were beginning to swallow me whole as stones - gravestones - popped up.

My heart quickened, thrumming in my ears. "Mickey! Please," I cried, tears flowing down my cheeks. "Please, I need you. I need you, Mickey!"

All of a sudden, I stood in front of a gravestone. It was engraved 'Micaela Rayleigh Monroe. 1996- 2015. Beloved daughter, sister, friend.' I broke down, falling to my knees in sobs.

My dreams shifted between memories and nightmares. I tossed and turned, counting the knots in the wood on the ceiling, hoping to sleep.

Yet sleep did not come. Hours slipped by, before I finally decided to get up at 6 am. Hazel growled at the edge of the bed, confirming she thought waking up at this hour was absurd and she would not be joining me downstairs. "I have treats," I whispered in her ear which made her ears peek up slightly. "I'll give you some peanut butter too."