THIRTEEN*

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Brooke

The first place that he took me to was my old room. I didn't want to see it, but a small part of me that still had a firm grip on my past wanted to. No, it needed to see it.

The first thing I noticed when we stepped inside was how small it was compared to the room I had now. It was a wonder how I survived in this room in the first place. The bed was disheveled, almost as though someone had just gotten up and had forgotten to make the bed, but from the amount of dust that had collected on the dresser it had been a long time since someone had been inside of this room.

But it was obvious that someone had, apart from us. One thing was different from when I left.

There were four holes and each of the walls. They all appeared to be made by a fist, a very large and strong fist.

I turned to Austin with a questioning look. Why were there holes in my walls?

He shrugged. "Every day that you weren't here a new hole appeared. I guess who ever did it gave up after sixteen days."

A sinking feeling clenched my stomach as I stared at the hole above the pillow. It almost looked like it was made when someone woke up and decided to punch the wall. Two people had that much anger to punch a hole clear through drywall, and on the wall that was covering base of the house the cement was cracked.

Whoever did that was pissed, and I felt the fear that I had hidden away years ago crawling into my throat. Whoever did this was mad at me, and was probably still around.

Gods, if they saw me, I was as good as dead. My heart rate picked up and the air around us began to thin. I was panicking, for no damn good reason, but I was scared. This place had scarred me and...

What was wrong with me? I was one of the most powerful Warrior Wolves in the country and I was scared of someone that may or may not figure out who I was. It was pathetic, seriously pathetic.

Suddenly Austin began to cough and he fell to his knees while clutching his throat. I realised what was happening and tried to think of something that would stop my panicking. A few years ago I realised that my powers sometimes get triggered when my emotions are running rampant. Fire explodes when I'm angry, water twists and forms when I think too hard, air thins when I panic, and the earth shakes when I'm sad. And plants kind of go crazy with whatever emotion I have, sometimes they die, sometimes they grow fast, once they even wrapped around someone and they were completely enveloped in vines for a few hours.

For his sake, I ran out of the room and down the hallway a few feet. The effects only affected people within a five foot radius of me, except for the plants. Well, panic was like that anyways, but I guess it depended how strong I felt it.

A moment later Austin came out of the room breathing heavily. I was sitting on the floor with my arms wrapped around me legs, which were pressed close to my chest. I stared silently at the wall and my mind began to slow down, catching up with my emotions. My head hurt, my lungs were begging for air, not because the oxygen had thinned like it had for Austin.

He knelt down in front of me and stared in silence. I appreciated it, and would have hugged him if it hadn’t meant leaving my bubble of security.

Brettly ran down stairs with a worried look on his face. I stared at him, and of course it was at the moment that I realised that I had tears pricking my eyes. I didn’t like harming innocent people; it wasn’t the way that I liked dealing with my problems. Seeing Austin suffocating made me feel awful, and if Brettly was here that mean that something else had happened.

Oh gods, was someone hurt? Guilt began to gnaw at my gut and I averted my eyes to the ground.

“What’s up,” Austin asked, standing up and moving between us.

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