Choleric

Chapter XXII

But it wasn't. Celia knew that. It wasn't something that he said because he was in a hurry, or because he was scared of what could've happened. No. He just didn't like her.

Air rushed into her lungs as the words stabbed at her soul. Dainty fingers clenched, gripping at the dried up leaves and crushing them in sweaty hands. They were weak, easily broken and torn apart. Just like herself.

"Why am I so weak?" She asked aloud, throwing away the fragments of dirt and leaves and sticks and anything she could get her hands upon. Throwing them at a thin tree she awaited the soft crash of objects clashing together. The debris in her hands floated down, narrowly missing the short trunk.

"Arghhhh!" She screamed out loud. Jumping to her feet Celia stormed over to the young tree and forcefully shoved her boot into its thin trunk, snapping it in half. It screeched in agony as its body was forced in half. Splinters grappled for the top half in attempt to keep itself together. But it was no use. The damage was done and Celia watched as the branches swayed in the air, trying desperately to grab something as it went crashing to the ground. Bright green leaves danced around the trunk, splattering against the dried up floor. Their vibrant colour shone brightly against the gloomy floor, reminding Celia of the clearing where her pack mates had been slaughtered.

Shivering she turned away, her gaze watching the direction of the clearing as her feet took a tentative step towards it. She had been alone for long enough. Now it was time to face the reality of the world and lock away the nightmares that swarmed in her mind. She could not be controlled by them. Not yet anyway.

She felt like a zombie as her legs slowly dragged along the forest floor, kicking up the soil as she made her way to the clearing. She wasn't watching where she was going and every few minutes her feet got caught up in upturned roots, or her body smashed into a branch. As she got closer she could hear the soft voices of people talking lowly to one another. Asking questions like what's going to happen to us? When are we leaving? What about the dead?

Celia didn't hear any answers. Instead she focused on the way the trees swayed in the soft wind, the way the bush became tamer as she came closer to the clearing until she could see people buzzing around with objects in their arms. Others sat on the floor while others shouted orders. The whole place was havoc.

Stepping forward a sharp branch kissed Celia's cheek, the action causing blood to bubble to the surface, waiting for gravity to drag it down her soft skin. Celia didn't feel a thing as she kept trekked into the clearing. Around her, faces blurred past in a hurry, but none of them were familiar.

Numbly stumbling around, Celia look for a familiar face within the havoc. She couldn't be kept alone with her mind for much longer.

"You look like shit," a voice called from behind. Whipping her head around Celia squinted into the bush behind her. Four metres away Eve's head rested against a thick tree, her blonde locks glowing in the sunlight.

Walking towards her friend, Celia shrugged as she sat next to her, slumping against the same trunk. "I feel like shit."

Eve drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes against the sun. "Why?" Celia flinched as the smell of alcohol drifted from her friends mouth.

"Have you been drinking?" She asked, pulling herself up to look at her friend squarely. Eve just shrugged.

"My mate is dead and my own father has to shoot me within a week."

"Fair enough...." Celia mumbled, slumping comfortably back into position against the tree, shoulders resting against her friends. "Cassius was about to kiss me. Then he told me he didn't like me instead," she confessed, her head turning to the side.