One Word
I preferred working the rush shifts at diners. I didn't much care for the number of people, really, I hated being around all of them. I liked the noise and bustle. During the rush shifts I was kept to busy to think and the rest of the staff was too busy to talk to me. Sadly, not every shift can be a busy one, especially at some Wyoming backwater town diner.
"I don't know, hey, what about fun-loving?"
"No way, that sounds like you're a dog."
"Hey Ann!"
I looked up from my order pad. The other waitresses were crowded around a small cell phone. They all faltered slightly at my glare. I knew that I made them uncomfortable. I didn't dislike them, not really. I wasn't going to make any friends though. I suppose it doesn't help that I've had a permanent scowl on my face for years. I wasn't the friendly, cuddly kind of person.
The blonde one, I think her name started with a K, was persistent in her attempts to include me in their mindless dribble. "Julia is signing up for an online dating website," she began. "They ask you to describe yourself in one word and well..." She faltered. "D-do you want to play?"
I didn't bother to answer and instead walked towards a table that was just beginning to flag me down. By the time I returned the blonde and the others were all crowded around a phone despite the couple of customers that were waiting for their service.
I ignored them and pushed through into the kitchen. Chef Arnold and a busboy were hard at work, neither bothering to look up when I entered. I attached my order slip to the line that ran across the front wall of the kitchen.
Chef Arnold spun around and took a look at it. "Coming right up, Ann," he informed me briefly.
I nodded and went back out. I liked Chef Arnold. He was kind, even for a human. I overheard one of the busboys say that Arnold treated me like a daughter, once. I wouldn't know but I was fond of him. When he first met me, he said I had a sweet face that reminded him of someone he knew a long time ago. I didn't ask who. People always assumed that a pretty face meant a pretty person. They were wrong. If Chef Arnold, or anyone else, saw the scars that littered my body they would run away screaming. Or worse, they'd tried to help. There was no help for me. The only way to stay safe was to stay invisible, to never let him find me.
As far as everyone in the one-horse town knew I was just another loner passing through. I am, in a way, I guess. My species would call me a rogue, though, a lone wolf. A werewolf without a pack. It was amusing to think about how these people would react if they knew anything true about me.
My entire life here is a lie, even my name. Ann Hawthorne. She didn't exist before I strolled into town little more than four months ago and she would cease to exist when I leave. Not long after she would fade from these peopled memories. Humans are funny that way, so forgetful. I envied them the ease of which memories left them. I envied them a lot of things.
There was only one thing that would serve to prove that there'd ever been an Ann Hawthorne. A single ID, faked of course, that would join a small binder filled with dozens of others. It was the only thing, besides a worn map, that I took with me wherever I sent. It wasn't sentimentality, that would be foolish, and also so very human. It was practical. I would never use the same alias twice. Just like the map, covered in small little Xs over every place I've ever been. I would never go to the same place twice. There was a section of the map, the size more than two states, that was completely blacked out. The surrounded area was barren of Xs. I would never go near there, not after‒ I shook the thought from my head.
Focus on the now. Working in diners and digs wasn't really glamorous but when you were applying to places with fake identities you couldn't be choosy.
"Ann," Chef Arnold called a couple dull hours later. "Your shift is over!"
I shot a glance out the window. The sky was turning orange. Sunset. I had only one stipulation when taking a job; I would not work before sunrise or after sunset. I swiftly collected the last of my tips and slipped into the back to clock out.
"Here, Hun," Chef Arnold murmured, pressing a boxed meal into my hands. He does this at the end of every shift. We were allotted one free meal and Chef Arnold always made sure I got mine. It took me some time to realize it was because I was... not skinny but bony.
I did not have much meat on my bones. My cheeks were slightly sunken into my face, the skin tightened over the rises of the bones. You could count my ribs if I lifted my shirt, my stomach almost curving in instead of being flat or bulging. Chef Arnold thought me to be, I think the word is anorexic.
I wasn't. But for years my body had to survive on scraps, getting a small morsel of food once a week, if that. I was better now, I could stomach the blander foods that humans made. They spiced everything. I ate almost ever other day as well.
I said nothing of this to the Chef, his eyes kind and always slightly worried. I simply nodded and hurried out the diner, grabbing my bag on the way out. I released a breath with the chilled air hit my skin. I had to resist the urge to look over my shoulder at the setting sun. It always felt like a race to me, the sun always eager to close that gap between it and the horizon. I gave in every third or fourth step, each time worry gnawed on my stomach and causing my steps to quicken until I was almost running to the shabby motel that I'd been staying at. It was hard to keep my speed in check. Humans were slow, though I was unusually fast for one of my kind, weak as I was.
My heart bangs against my chest, the fear that was always there started to seep into my blood. Finally, I reached the motel. It had a total of three rooms. One belonged to the owner and her husband. One sat vacant. The last room was occupied by me. Room Two separated the owner and me, done by my intention. I was not keen on sharing walls.
I deftly pulled out my key and shoved it into the lock. I threw the door open and flipped on the light. A quick scan and cursory sniff confirmed no one but myself had been here. I stepped inside and sealed the door against the fading light. I relocked the door despite how little it would do against him. I dropped to the floor the check the duffle bag that sat there. I pulled out a wrinkled plastic bag filled with crumpled bills and an assortment of change. I dropped the days tips into it. My emergency money. My meager pay check just barely covered the room charge for the motel, and since food wasn't too big of a priority, my tips went to my small savings.
I returned the plastic bag and lifted the duffle onto my shoulder, stopping only to put the boxed meal from Chef Arnold in the mini-fridge. The two tiny shelves were crammed with similar boxes. I grabbed the oldest of the boxes and tossed them in the trash. The familiar pang of guilt struck over the waste but I simply couldn't eat it all.
I switched on the large, outdated television. The local news flickered onto the screen, a line of static shooting across the screen every few seconds. It was already set to the lowest volume so it was easy to fade the tiny weatherman into background noise.
I stiffly sat on the couch and pulled out my map. It was folded down to the size of a napkin but after a few unfolds it nearly consumed the rickety wood coffee table. Time to pick a new town. I'd been here too long. I enjoyed the calm, grown almost fond of Chef Arnold. Still, if I did not leave soon he would find me and it was not worth the risk, not to myself nor the humans here.
What was funny was I didn't even know he was looking at first. It didn't take long to realize that not only was he looking, he had the resources and connections to find me if I slipped up even the slightest. That first town after I... left I had used my original name. He'd nearly caught so soon after my escape. It wasn't the only close call. Anytime I got comfortable, anytime I began to feel safe, he was show up.
A shiver touched my spine as a few memories rattled in their locked box. I pushed them aside and picked a larger city, hoping to confuse my trail. It'd been about a year since the last close call but I wasn't taking any chances. Especially since I'd been here so long.
Once it was all decided I folded up the map and placed it back in my bag. I milled about for a few hours. I didn't really have hobbies and television had never quite managed to get my attention. When midnight hit I crawled into bed, all the lights still on. It was another hour of fitful tossing and turning before I found sleep.
I was running, zipping past trees, launching over rocks and roots, the feeling might have been exhilarating, if it weren't for the slapping of paws against the ground behind me. My pursuers were slower than me, struggling to match my pace. They had to keep me in sight. Water attacked from above, lucky for me. It would clear away my scent. I needed to get out of their sight, I could lose them then.
Logically, they should have been fast enough. I was weak, injured and starved. Easy prey. I had something they did not, something that gave me an advantage. I had nothing to lose. If I was caught they would kill me. I would not let them have another option. Death did not scare me. Not after all I'd been through. No, it was escape or death. Those were the only options.
I heard the urgency spread through my captors and pushed myself impossibly harder. Their thudding paws were turning frantic in their pace and that could mean only one thing; the barrier was near. I barely felt the strain of my injuries as I flew across the ground. I was so close. My freedom was so close, I could nearly taste it. If I could just cross the barrier, if I could just leave the pack...
I didn't actually know what would happen once I got there. I'd overheard them talk about it once. They said that leaving a pack drove wolves insane. I wasn't very worried about that, I'm pretty sure I couldn't get any crazier. Honestly, I could die the moment my feet crossed that invisible line and I probably wouldn't even care.
My eyes were trained on the ground ahead of my, almost afraid to look of at the bright cottony looking sky. It was too big, too tall and too open. I'd never seen the sky before. So vast and the light hurt my eyes.
I don't think my captors could see like I could. Their steps were sloppy despite their familiarity with the terrain. Everything was new to me, even this form. I was a wolf. So strange and yet not. The trees, the water, rain I think it's called, the scents. I was raised in a hole, no light, no tree, no anything.
"Stop!" a voice commanded in my head.
The surprise caused me to miss a step. I quickly recovered and tried to go even faster. Running felt so natural, though I'd never done it before, and despite my situation I never wanted to stop.
"Don't do this," the voice demanded. It was loud and male. Every word sent a bolt of fear through my bones. "You will obey me." I could help the derisive snort. I will die before that happens. "You are my mate," the voice told me, his tone suggested that was something big, important.
I'd heard the word before, once or twice, but there was no meaning to it for me. I knew if the man was claiming I was his mate then it wasn't a good thing. Not only was he among them, my captors, he was an Alpha. The very word sent a shiver through my limbs. Alphas. The worst of the worst.
The voice yelled at me, saying I was his mate, insisting that I listen to him because of it. The barrier was close, I could feel it. Death or escape. I would give them one final act of defiance. I did something I'd never done before. I spoke back. "I am not your mate and I will die before I bow to another Alpha."
Then I reached the barrier.
I jerked myself out of bed, my hand closing around the handle of the knife beneath my pillow, bringing around so it was angled in front of me at an unseen attacker. The light blinded my eyes for a second. When I'd regained my sight, I realized I'd been dreaming. Everything was okay.
It'd been a while since I'd had that dream, less of a dream and more of a memory. The night I escaped. Night had a new meaning to me now. It'd seemed so bright until I saw the sun's blinding light.
I returned the knife to its place beneath my pillow and pulled damp locked of brown hair away from my neck and face. I gave up after a minute and peeled of my now damp long sleeved black shirt from the previous day. The cameo I wore beneath it was bunched up beneath my breasts. I yanked the fabric down to cover my stomach and made my way to the dingy bathroom, toeing off my sneakers as I did. I always slept fully dressed, ready to run in an instant if I had to. I pushed my pants down to my ankles and stepped out of them.
I turned the light on in the bathroom, cringing slightly at the woman in the mirror. Dark circles hugged the bottoms of my crystal blue eyes, making them seem even bigger on my face. My skin was pale and waxy and covered in a sheen of sweet. Bits of blonde were started to peek out from the brown locks. I wasn't worried about touching up the roots, I would be changing the color soon anyways. Maybe I'll go for red again.
My eyes inevitably went down to my arms and the tops of my legs that were visible in the forever slightly blurry mirror. White lines decorated the skin, overlapping each other. They varied in shape, size and severity. Each one had been painful to earn, the sad part is, I don't think I remember half of them. There was just so much pain.
I flinched away from the mirror, my mind pulling up words from yesterday. "They ask you to describe yourself in one word..." I almost wanted to laugh, to snort at how they struggled for the one word. I also felt unbelievably sad. I wish it would be so hard for me. I wish the words weren't carved into my flesh.
Whipped, the ugly puckered lines whispered. Cut. Scratched. Burned. Each word felt like another scar, one that couldn't be seen from the outside. Stabbed. Battered. Damaged. Unwanted. Hated.
The words started blending together, forming into the one word that I hated most of all. The one word that was truest to who I was. Abused.
Abused. Abused. Abused.
I turned my back on the mirror. I started the shower, stripping of the rest of my clothes. I didn't bother to wait for the water heater to kick it, it hadn't kick in in the nearly four months that I'd been it. The water was freezing when I stepped into the little cube shaped shower stalls. An involuntary shudder racked my body and it took several minutes beneath the icy spray for my body to get use to the cold and stopped shivering. When that finally happened, it took me less than three minutes to watch my hair and body with the cheap motel soap and shampoo. As soon as the last bubble of soap disappeared down the drain I shut off the water and quickly dried myself with a towel. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a fresh cameo.
I felt better the moment I had clothes on. I didn't like being naked, I felt too exposed. I shoved my feet into some socks and the one pair of shoes that I owned. I contemplated buying a new snow jacket as I pulled on a black long sleeve shirt. I wouldn't really need it. My kind ran hotter than humans, and even though I actually maintained a body temperature that was slightly lower than the norm for werewolves I still didn't feel the cold as easily as humans. However, I knew from personal experience that humans think it strange when someone walks around in the snow without a coat.
I shook my head, I would be leaving soon and I didn't want to carry a heavy bag. I rolled my shoulders. Despite the shower, the hair on my arms and neck still stood. It was time to leave. Whenever I began to feel like I was being followed, like I was being watched, it meant the he was close by.
It was more than superstition or, I think the word is paranoia. After my escape I had learned a lot. First, humans believe werewolves to be fiction. I knew that they were nightmares. Second, my kind had these things called mates. I still don't know a whole lot about mates, I'm not really sure what they are exactly, but they have a Link. The Link gets stronger or weaker depending on how far away your mate is.
He had called me his mate and the Link between us served as my warning for when he started to close in on me. Right now, the Link was giving a gentle buzz of anticipation. It wanted me to stay and let him find me. I, on the other hand, would prefer to live. Freedom was so much better than I ever thought anything could be. I wasn't ready to give that up. I know one day he'll catch up, it's inevitable. He won't stop looking. But he won't capture me. I will die before I ever go back.
The third thing I'd learned was the difference between what I am and a pack. I'm called a lupus, I think it's a foreign word. All the different languages confused me and I was never sure whether a word was English or not. Lupus was used to refer to werewolves who didn't belong to a pack. I've run into others like me, Lupi aren't uncommon. I do my best to avoid them though, usually opting to move on when one shows up. He's got eyes everywhere and I never trust that they don't report to him. You only make the mistake once.
The Link was strong too. He wasn't here yet but he would be soon. I wanted to leave the moment the sun rose but I received my pay today and while I wasn't pressed for money it would raise far fewer questions if I left after I was paid. The fewer questions people were asking the less likely they were to answer his.
I decided to recheck my emergency bag, by the time I was done the sky had faded into pale pinks and oranges. I swung the bag onto my shoulder, making sure there was nothing her that could allow him to track me. All that was left were a couple changes of clothes, not a big loss if I didn't want to risk coming back here after work. Satisfied that I was good to go, I left the key on the stand by the bed and left the door unlocked behind me.
As I walked my mind wandered to the game the other waitresses were playing yesterday. Mostly I wanted to distract myself so I wouldn't jump and startle at every little noise and movement. It didn't work, probably because the game was not nearly as challenging for me as it had been for them.
They all moved through their fortunately uneventful lives, most of them wishing for more. Humans wished for adventure and danger, they truly think that they want that. They struggled to pick a word to sum themselves up because the mediocrity of their lives didn't provide a clear answer.
I envied them for that. I wished it were hard for me to describe myself in a word. Unfortunately, my answer was carved into my skin. I was abused, and I would never be more than that.