She Cried Wolf

Chapter Seven: Eilidh (aye-lee)

I'm almost done with breakfast. At first, I feel like a child again, sneaking around to peek at birthday and Chanukah presents, too nervous that I'd get caught too actually look. I jump every time I hit the bottom of the pan a little too loudly, shooting looks behind me at every creak or groan of the cabin. Soon enough though, when I finally accept no one is there, I allow myself to relax. By the time I'm starting to fry the bacon, I'm singing a nineteen eighties pop song that my mom would play during the diner's slower days. Putting her tip money in the jukebox just so we could hear it one last time. I'm just getting to the bridge when, behind me, there's a noise.

Not the creak of wood settling, or the slap of pine limbs against walls. Nothing so organic. It's a mixture of growl and snort, and as soon as I hear it I'm doused with a chill that seeps into my bones. It's not the same type of growl that Blaine let loose when he was in his fits, but it still stirs something in my stomach. The hair on my body standing on edge. I feel adrenaline fill every limb, it's jittery after effects leaving my fingers shaking, my heart practically beating out of my chest. In one, swift movement, I turn on my heel.

"Oh my god!" I yelp, clasping at my chest, as I face the mystery woman, the presumed owner of the cabin I'm in, and the person who's breakfast I'm currently making. Like the first time I saw her, she's utterly breathtaking. She's tall, taller than Blaine, taller than any woman I have ever seen. Her shoulders are broad and her arms are thickly corded with muscles, but so is the rest of her body. Her face has a long scar trailing from her left eye, over her broad nose, and down her sculpted right cheek. I have to wonder how she got such an injury, and if it was in a fight, if the other person is still with us. Her dark eyes glint in the kitchen light, and they're trained directly at me. Though her posture is that of relaxed grace, leaned against the doorframe, her face matches my surprise almost exactly. Her lips, full and angular, hang open. It's a struggle not to stare at those lips, and I'm not exactly sure why.

Only a second passes as I take all this in, before my adrenaline takes over and despite my best effort I'm babbling like an idiot.

"Oh- I'm so sorry! You scared the crap out of me! I know this is your place so I probably shouldn't be so surprised to see you, but I just didn't hear you come in, I'm sorry for the shouting," the logical part of my brain is begging me to please, dear god, please shut up, but I just can't seem to stop myself from continuing, "You know I've also been so jumpy. Like, when I was in school, kids used to come up behind me all the time just to scare me because I'd always jump and scream and they thought it was funny and- I- I'm sorry."

She stands there, slack jawed, and I wonder if she can tell this is the first time I'm having an actual conversation with another human being that isn't Blaine in nearly a year. Not that she knows who Blaine is. But the point still stands.

When it comes to socializing, I'm completely out of practice. In school, I was friendly with people, but since Blaine wouldn't allow me to visit them, and certainly wouldn't allow them to visit me, I had trouble maintaining actual friendships. Blaine never allowed me a cellphone, and since I always had to say no, eventually my peers stopped inviting me places. When I graduated I stopped having any access to other people. My year living isolated with Blaine hasn't exactly prepared me to interact with strangers, or with anyone who isn't actively looking for an excuse to hurt me. I take a deep breath, and smile weakly.

"Sorry, that was a lot. Are you hungry?" She blinks at me, once, twice, before her face cracks into a huge, rather bemused, smile.

"Starving." Her voice is low, gravely, and sends a wave of goosebumps down my skin.

"Good, because breakfast is almost ready. I think we've got a lot to talk about."

"I'll say," She says, and I can see her eyeing the pristine counters, the empty sink.