Blue Moon » Stilinski

Ten

                                                           Chapter Ten

                                                            •  Aubrey  •

For about the millionth time in a week, I find myself in a wedding dress. Arms raised, I’m constantly told to spin around, and when that doesn’t work, to spin in the opposite direction. Poked, prodded, squeezed, and measured. Everything has to be perfect for the special day. Translation: I get to spend four hours contemplating my reason for existing.

            After I’ve been stabbed by the sewing needle at least twenty times, I’ve had enough. “Is this almost over?”

            Roxanne, flipping through the latest issue of People magazine, glowers at me. Disappointment is written all over her face, but I could care less. If she’s let down by my simple inability to stay still, then she really should have lowered her expectations years ago. “Aubrey,” she says in that chiding tone. “I know this seems like so much to handle, since you’re so young, but be a little patient. Trust me, it will all pay off.”

            “Trust you?” I raise my eyebrows at her, my voice practically dripping with insubordination. “Since when has trusting you ever done me any good?”

            At that, she slams her magazine shut, trying her best not to glare at me. I can see her tolerance wearing thin, her violence rising to the surface. She turns to the woman measuring me and asks, “Linda, can you please give Aubrey and me some privacy?” The woman nods, scurrying off in a slightly fearful manner. I kind of want to do the same.

            Roxanne stands up, strutting forward with her hands on her hips. She comes to a stop in front of me, suspicion clear in her eyes. Everything about her stance seems like she’s going to accuse me of something― or maybe even slap me― but when she speaks, her voice is quiet and sad. “What happened to you?”   

            I’m taken aback, my forehead scrunching up in puzzlement. “What?”

            She reaches forward, wrapping a strand of my hair around her fingers. I hold back a shudder, my mind involuntarily slamming into a half-forgotten memory. Of when I first arrived in the alpha pack, nightmares of my family dying causing me to wake up screaming. Of Roxanne, much younger and much less threatening, clutching me to her and stroking my hair until I could be coaxed back to sleep. Of off-key lullabies and being tucked in and kissed on the forehead.

            That was then, I have to remind myself. This is now. And everything is a lot different.

            Catching the apprehension hiding in my eyes, Roxanne falters a bit, letting the strand of hair fall limply back onto my shoulder. “I just want things to be like they used to be,” she whispers, hope etched in the hard lines of her mouth. “You know I’ve always thought of you like a daughter. We used to be so close. I don’t know what happened, but I feel like we could get past it. All of it. We could be like a family again.”

            While she was talking, fondness had begun to swirl in me, her words erasing all my hatred. But that last sentence… “You think that we could be all buddy-buddy, Roxanne? That all we need is a good long talk and some ice cream, and things will be okay? This thing between you and I… it’s never been okay.” My resolve hardens, hands curling into fists. “What gave you the right to dictate my life? To trick me into thinking that I was special, when all you did was tuck me away on a shelf? I’m not just some pretty thing that you can put on display. You can’t just hide me from the world, and not allow me to make my own choices, and hold me as a prisoner. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like something family would do.”