A Runaway Mate

Chapter Seven. ✓

[[WARNING: THERE WILL BE SEXUAL MATERIAL IN THIS CHAPTER. IF YOU FIND THIS STUFF DISTURBING PLEASE STOP READING WHEN YOU SEE THIS: (***). AND WHEN YOU SEE IT A SECOND TIME, YOU MAY START BACK UP. THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING GRAPHIC SO IF IT'S NOT THE BEST PLEASE TELL ME. ALSO, THERE WILL BE SOME GORE, NOT A LOT, BUT IT'S STILL THERE]]

Finn's Point of View.

   I was almost asleep when a crash from upstairs sounded through the house. My head snapped up, eyes wide, ears alert. Everyone in the house grew quiet, looking over at me. My heart thudded against my ribcage when realization dawned on me that Rebel was the only one up there. Springing up from the couch, I ran upstairs at an inhuman speed.

   My hand pushed the slightly open bedroom door out of my way. Light came from under the bathroom door. My hand grabbed the bathroom’s doorknob, only to find out it was locked. My breathing grew heavy as my fist pounded on the door. “Rebel, open the door,” I tried to say calmly.

   “Shit," Rebel cursed from on the other side of the door. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, making my eyes diminished into black. 

   My hands shook as I banged harder on the door. “Rebel, open the fucking door!" My skin tingled, my Wolf begging to be set free. 

   “Just go away, Finn.” Her voice held no emotion.

   Locking my jaw, my shoulder collied with the door. It busted open, almost being cracked off its hinges. 

   What first met my vision was Rebel only wearing her jeans, a black bra covered her breast. The tattoo in elegant cursive writing could be seen on her ribs. Then, my eyes slowly drifted to the knuckles on her right hand, which were bleeding. Broken glass laid in the sink and around her bare feet, the mirror had shattered pieces hanging off. She braced her hands on the counter top of the sink,leaning her weight on them. Her jaw was locked as she glared into the sink. 

   My eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. “Rebel . . .” my voice trailed off. 

   I noticed she was shaking, and I didn’t know if it was from the anger radiating off of her or the cold of the bathroom. 

   “What?" she said through gritted teeth. She stood up her fill height, turning to look at me. No emotion swam in her eyes. The looked blank, lifeless. Slowly, I walked forward, being cautious. Leaning down, I received the first-aid kit under the sink, not tearing my eyes from Rebel’s. 

   Setting the white box on the counter-top, I opened it. My hands took out a cleaning agent and gauze. Rebel was glaring at the ground, being unnaturally quiet. Slowly extending my arm, I reached for her hand. She flinched away from my touch and in the back of my mind I heard a small, sad whimper. 

   Trying to grab her hand again, she didn’t flinch. Warmth spread throughout my hand, trailing up my arm and through my chest. Trying my best to ignore the pleasurable sensation, I cleaned off the drying blood from her knuckles, rubbing disinfectant on them. Taking the gauze, I wrapped it around her hand. Once I was done I expected her to walk away, not saying a word. But she didn’t. 

   “Why can't you be like everyone else?” Her voice was so quiet, my sensitive hearing barely caught it. 

   Confusion swept through me. “What?” 

   She tore her stare from the ground, looking at me. The glare was cold, so cold I almost flinched away. 

   “I said, why can't you be like everyone else," she said louder, her voice echoing through the bathroom.