The Pack Slut

Eighteen- Trapped

When I wake up, I don't make any move to get out of bed. I stare up at my blue ceiling and listen to my breathing. I turn my head away from the fascinating ceiling to open the top draw of my nightstand next to my bed. I reach in with one hand and pull out the current book I'm reading: Vampire Academy.

I know it's not the most mature book but there's a part of me that connects to Rose. I love her too much to let her go no matter how old I get. I prop the book on top of my chest so that I don't have to sit up. As I read, I feel the book weighing down on my heart as Rose fights to protect her best friend Lissa.

Salty tears sting my eyes so I quickly shut the book and throw it to the side.

I resume my staring match with the ceiling until I hear a knock on my door. I stare at the white door and sigh in defeat as I finally push myself up into a sitting position.

"Come in," I call and the door swings open slowly to reveal my mother.

"Lenora," my mother calls as she steps into my room. She softly closes my door behind herself and I listen to the click as she releases the knob. It's like she's walking on glass and it's making me on edge.

I return my gaze to my ceiling and my mother takes a few tentative steps to my bed side and sits down. She is silent for once that I might be surprised if I cared at all.

"Is it true?" She finally asks and I refrain from rolling my eyes.

"You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that." When she doesn't elaborate I continue talking just to fill the sharp silence, "yes, I started watching Game of Thrones, it's a good show. I definitely recommend it. No, I didn't drink anything...last night. Yes, I didn't shower last night because I was really tired—"

"Can you stop joking for once, Lenora?" My mother's tone catches me off guard again so I stop my taunting. She takes a deep breath and a long blink that makes me fight the urge to bite my nails.

"Is it true, that Damon and you are mates?"

I bite down on my tongue so hard it bleeds and I flinch. I can feel my mother's intense stare and I know if I don't come up with an explanation fast she will have her answer.

"No," I finally admit.

My mother nods her head as if she had known all along. I tell the voice in my head that says, but she has, to go to hell and send a postcard when it gets there.

"Is this what you want?" my mother continues to throw me off my game and I am left staring at her in shock.

I nod my head because I can't think enough to form a thought never mind a string of words legible enough to be a comprehensive sentence.

"When you were in the hospital, after the rouge attack, I was so worried." I can see the tears fill my mother's eyes and I sit up. "I stayed by your side the whole time. I held your hand because I just wanted you to feel safe. I hated seeing you like that: hurt. I don't want you to get hurt, Lenora."

Held my hand?

I look down at my hands and recall the small soft hand that rested in mine.

"You, you were the one that held my hand?" I ask for clarification because I can hardly believe it.

I thought it was Damon?

"Yes, I am your mother," she sounds taken aback and looks at me with creased eyebrows. "Who did you think was holding your hand?"

"Damon," I answer truthfully because I am too stunned to think of a lie. "I thought it was Damon."

My mother stiffens and then abruptly stands up, "well then."