Waindale

fifteen. tell me that you want me

This feels like the longest night in existence. All the lights in the house are out—my mother and grandmother had gone to bed a while ago—and I'm left to lay in the darkness of my bedroom. It's quiet, so painfully quiet. It's gotten too cold for the crickets and now the night is filled with unsettling, infrequent gusts of wind. I'd much rather hear the wet tapping of rain than this silence, but the one night I need noise is the one night of clear skies.

Tomorrow is my first day at the Academy. I have my uniform hanging on the back of my desk chair. Contrary to my mother's beliefs, it fits near perfectly, which makes my mind wander to Adam. This situation that I've been thrown into is insane, completely unreal, but I still feel guilty for acting so cold towards him. He is clearly trying to make it work; I just can't get my mind around the idea of it actually working. There's no way this can end well for either of us.

I look up at my moon goddess necklace as it dangles from my bedpost. My arm reaches above my head and my fingers turn the wooden carving the right way. The charm makes my crowding thoughts disperse—like she's shooing them off as the evil things tower over me.

Whenever I'm alone like this—so desperate to move and unwilling to sleep—is when I want him the most. He feels so far away and it's unbearable. I close my eyes just to picture his face, to imagine him in my bedroom. His scent is nothing but a memory that I'm struggling to remember. Adam. Adam. Adam. I say his name over and over in my head until it loses meaning and sounds like nothing at all. Rolling onto my back, then side, then pushing myself to sit up, I run my hands through my hair and squeeze my head like a lemon I want to drain until it's merely rind and pulp.

Letting out a groan of frustration, I slip from my covers and spring to the window. My palm lays flat against the glass, needing to feel warmth back but getting nothing except an empty chill.

"Come back," I murmur against the glass, watching my breath fog it up. "Maybe you can hear me. Maybe you can't. You did before when I was stuck. Well, I'm stuck again. Usually I get can myself down, but this time I need help."

I'm losing it, aren't I? Talking at a closed window as if my mumbling is going to be heard from wherever Adam is. Maybe if I run out into the cold, he'll come. Maybe if I stand there and freeze he'll—dam it, Wren. Stop it. You're not like this. Turning my back to the night, I face my bedroom with utter annoyance. I don't want to be here.

Grabbing my thickest jacket from the closet and stepping into my shoes with my warmest socks on, I head out the front door, looking back into the dark rooms, saying goodbye. I shut the door and walk slowly down the porch steps. No one would be out and about at such a time, but Waindale isn't like other towns. For all I know, half the population is at the town center dancing naked under the full moon. Imagine that. I can. I can picture my bare body drenched in moonlight. Instead of regular townies, those surrounding me would be hungry beasts. My pale limbs flail like that of an injured animal. I'm dripping blood. The metallic stench clouds their senses. They're ready to pounce; they're ready to rip me apart.

As I walk down the dark, barren road, his scent comes out of nowhere. Am I going to get what I asked for? Is Adam going to come for me? Why would he—I've been indecisive, passionless, and just bitchy.

Hints of him litter the air and seem to grow stronger. I continue to walk towards my salvation like I have a right to. The wind is ruthless against my legs; the sheerness of my pajama pants is doing nothing to keep me warm. If I was being sensible, I would have stayed home, in my room, in my bed like a good girl.

My lips part and I dare to call out his name. The forest is dense as the road cuts through it, and suddenly I turn into the trees. My body knows where he is and my head is along for the ride. I step over monstrous roots and tangled brush, and I know that I should be feeling lost, but there's this sense of safety deep within me. He does that. Adam makes me feel all sorts of things, and I'm still trying to accept it.