AEGIS ↠ EMBRY CALL [R.U]

23| COOLING DOWN

     Instead of going home, not wanting to face the questions that Silas or Anya would have had—if they saw her walking back into the house like she had just stared death in the face and challenged it. She made her way down to the beach—hoping that the one place in which she had constructed most of her memories, of La Push, would act as a comfort blanket, even if she did lose her stuffed toy there. The closer she got the more at ease her body seemed to become, but she was still a long way from the beach. Even with the smallest of sounds, Callas would flinch and jump, scanning her eyes around the forest, her eyes darting to even the smallest detail, not wanting to come into contact with the horrifically real phantom that she had grown to fear. For some reason, one that she couldn't wrack her brain around, she couldn't understand how the man, that plagued her thoughts and nights, was real. How her figments of imagination were springing to life in such a short time period. Had she not got enough sleep? Was she drinking too much coffee? Or was she simply just falling down the rabbit hole into insanity?

     Callas rubbed her forehead, the stress of it all was beginning to get to her—forming a knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat—feeling the warm trickles of sweat rolling down her skin, tickling the skin of her neck as she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Her breathing hadn't evened out, it remained laboured, her heart was still pumping quickly as if she had the heart of Barry Allen, too fast for a normal human. Her eyebrows furrowed at her own choice of word. Human. Was the man she had just encountered human? Was he even a man? He had caught up to her far too quickly. Or maybe she just wasn't running fast enough. She couldn't recall seeing him before that encounter, only in her dreams—or nightmares—but she was sure that he was probably just a character from a movie that she forgot about, it was the only logical explanation that she could think of. Although, now, she wasn't sure of anything.

     Her feet slowly dragged across the mossy ground, feeling heavy and stiff, almost struggling, scuffing up her shoes with dirt as her mind drifted towards an empty blank slate, trying to convince herself that it never happened. Her mind wanted to push all of it away and never speak of it again. Her arms wrapped around her body, she could feel her pulse at the ends of her fingertips, thumping away while she bit down on her lower lip. She was certain that if anyone saw her they would probably see that the light faded from her eyes. Without checking, she crossed the road, the heat from the ground rose in heat waves as the sun scorched the earth, warming the soles of her shoes up—the feeling was unpleasant. Callas managed to make it to the other side of the road without collapsing in the middle of it. It was almost a miracle at that point. Her right hand was held out in front of her as she gripped onto one of the rocks by the edge of the cliff that peered over the drop to the black, stoned, sand.

     Slowly, Callas trudged towards the area of the stairs, blinking a few times as she carefully made her way down them, holding onto the rocky wall, the palm of her hand stinging slightly as the sharp rocks cut into her skin. It wouldn't make much of a difference if she took her hand away, her body was still coated in cuts, bruises and small bumps from where her skin reacted to the poison from the thorns. She probably resembled someone who had just witnessed a horrendous crime, her own mind was shutting down, simply hoping that it was all a bad dream and she was going to wake up. But she knew, deep down, that none of it was a dream, she doubted she could have made that up, definitely not something that real. When her feet touched the sand, she sunk slightly, her shoes beginning to collect a layer of sand as her legs moved numbly, one in front of the other as they brought her towards the driftwood log circle. A shaky sigh left her lips as she sat down, her back facing the stairs, her eyes bouncing from the water towards the top of the cliff.

     The sound of the waves crashing felt calming, she closed her eyes, placing her forehead on her knees as her legs scrunched towards her body. Her arms wrapped around her legs, ignoring the heat from the sun, which was strange, it was close to winter—albeit a few weeks until it was half term where Callas would be allowed to sleep for a week, or maybe just stare at her ceiling laying in bed for a week. But then again, it was La Push, the weather wasn't exactly trustworthy. She wasn't as scared as she was when she was around the familiar man, if he was going to hurt her he would have, he would have had a better chance at hiding her body in the forest than on the beach, she doubted he would do anything again. Maybe he was just her mind playing tricks on her, maybe it was the heat that was making her see things. But that didn't answer how he was able to touch her.