Lost The Battle

Elena.

There is no sound but silence here. I hate silence.

In particular, complete silence. There was something about it that made my skin crawl like there was nothing, it was driving me crazy. The kind of silence where I can even hear my heart beating hard through my eardrums.

I woke up to silence, something that almost felt out of place. In most cases, there was always a constant buzz of sound in my house, whether it was the almost constant chatter of my family or the TV that I forgot to turn off. But this was not the case.

This made me cringe at the silence. My body felt heavy, but as soon as I could move, I lifted my hand to my face. Before long, I rubbed my eyes, and let my eyes adjust to the sunlit room. The first thing that caught my eye was the ceiling.

Instead of the ornate stars shining in the dark that I was used to seeing as a child, there was only a dull cream colored ceiling. There was a large window on the left, whose curtains were tied back to let in the warm sunlight. A chair in the corner, a dressing table beside it.

This was definitely not my room.

I got to my feet, and looked around the room, taking in all the details. Sucking in a deep breath, I caught the sweet, lingering scent of Vanilla cake. That scent was spread all over the room, all over the blanket, and all over my body.

My eyes traced down, taking the oversized t-shirt in my hands, then rubbing it, before slipping it off.

I tried to recall what happened the night before, but still couldn't find it. I still remember that I was playing a game of dominoes (bullshit) with my brother, before suddenly passing out while shouting "Peanut Butter".

Tying up my hair, I crawled out of bed, made my way to the door, and opened it. The house felt familiar, and flashes of my childhood came back. Running through the hallways, getting yelled at. This used to be Maxine's house. A house filled with both happiness and sadness.

I pushed my thoughts away as I walked forward down the hallway. Sharpening my hearing, I could hear the sounds of movement downstairs. I took my time walking down the stairs, preparing myself for the unexpected.

Once downstairs, my steps halted at the bottom and peeked around the corner. It turns out Killian is in the kitchen, flipping pancakes on the stove. Meanwhile, my mom is drinking coffee, looking just as messy as me.

As soon as Killian noticed the scent of my body, he looked up, directly at me who was peeking around the corner of the room. My face felt hot as I stepped away, pushing my back against the wall. My mom must have heard it and called out to me.

"Elena, dear, let's have breakfast," she called out, and I followed her orders with a heavy heart. Killian was already back to preparing breakfast when I walked in, much to my relief.

Sitting on a stool at the kitchen table, I patiently waited while Killian placed a plate of food in front of me. Ignoring him, I started eating and had finished half of my plate before he even sat down. It felt strange, being so close to him, doing things that a casual person would do.

"Mr. Lockwood has been very helpful to us. Especially for you, El. You should thank him, and stop eating like a starving dog!" My mom rambled on, and I could see through my eyelashes that Killian was smirking as he sipped his coffee.

Frowning at my mom, I swallowed my pancake and chose to lean back, feeling bored. There was no way I was going to thank that jerk. My mom sighed before standing up.

"I'm going home, you finish your meal first," my mom said, before leaving.

Killian and I just sat in silence, before I started eating my pancakes once again.

"Are you feeling okay?" Killian asked slowly, making me look up at him. I was sure that my face looked unpleasant, so I looked away and went back to eating my food. He took that as a cue and went back to sipping his coffee.

"You are such a jerk." I blurted out after finishing chewing, before taking another bite. He looked up, shock evident on his face. Letting out a sigh, he put down his cup and stood up, walking over to the sink. With a frown, he started to speak, his voice sounding raspy. "You would never understand."

I glared at him, my heart pricking up inside my gut. I hate it when someone tells me that I won't understand something.

"So, just tell me! I deserve to know, you owe me!" I spat at him, irritably slamming the fork onto the plate. There was a noise, followed by silence.

He stared at me with a dejected look on his face, as he wiped his face with his hands. He seemed to be pondering something, before shaking his head violently.

"No matter what I do, it will only hurt you," he said softly, almost sounding gentle, as if he was trying to teach something to a child. "Never mind, just leave it, Elena."

I watched him leave the kitchen, while my mind raced with bewilderment. Everything that had just happened was foggy, and as I tried to make sense of what he was saying, I came to the decision that I had probably lost the battle.

I wasn't going to get any answers from him anyway.

As I got to my feet, I put my plate in the sink, before finally making my way to the front door. I saw his dog wagging its tail, lying beside the door.

I knelt down, rubbing his ears, taking a deep breath. "You know, your father is a real jerk."

The dog just tilted his head and panted, before he gave a quick lick on my cheek. In no time, I wiped my cheek, before giving him another small pat. With one last goodbye, I then opened the door and left.

I was not sure if I was worse than before, or better. Everything felt so dull and empty.

With my heart filled with a flood of emotions, I looked at his house one last time, before walking towards my house.

*****

Sasha's house was a nice two-story house with a door that had chipped paint and small yellow flowers in front of it. It was a nice getaway, considering her parents were almost always traveling, so it was always empty. Apart from Sasha, of course.

Sasha always emphasized that she liked being alone, but I knew that she actually didn't. She was just used to being alone. And yet, if someone knocked on her door, she would always answer. There was a part of her that always wanted someone nearby.

So, she answered the door when I knocked, and didn't say anything when I walked in looking like a mess.

I had gotten ready, in a sense, in a very short time. I wore sweatpants, and a random shirt, and tucked Killian's shirt into a drawer. I didn't comb my hair, forgot to put on my contacts, and only brushed my teeth because mom told me to.

So, it's safe to say that my appearance was a mess. I didn't want to look in the mirror, afraid it would make me even more depressed.

Sasha on the other hand looked as usual, like she had just come out of art class. Her hair was pulled up, and a butterfly apron was tied around her. Despite there being no fresh paint on her body, there was plenty of dried paint on her apron.

Her eyes looked intently, yet showed no expression whatsoever. She closed the door, and walked upstairs, without saying anything, as if she expected me to follow her lead.

Of course, I followed her, and soon we were in her room. I lay on her bed, my face buried in my hands. Right then she was working on a painting in the corner of her room, near the window. The smell of paint was overpowering, but she didn't seem to notice.

After a few minutes of silence, which I hated, I decided to start talking.

"I have been rejected," I blurted out, skipping all the little details and getting straight to the point. Her previously soothing paint strokes stopped, and her eyes looked up at me.

She seemed to be in deep thought. Probably trying to come up with an insensitive answer, and most likely failing.

"You didn't tell anyone?" She returned to her painting, her expression puzzled.

She was very critical, just like her parents. She tries to find the reason behind everything, and when there is no good reason, she considers it stupid. That was why she thought most of my actions were on the stupid side.

"I'm sorry," I ignored her question, not knowing what I would say if I had to answer it. Once again she stopped painting, this time putting down her brush and moving to the bed.

"There is no reason for that," she said quietly, rubbing her hands on her apron. This time I really saw her, the real Sasha. The messy Sasha. The Sasha who was terrible at comforting others, but also tried sometimes.

She looked tired, but tried to hide it, sitting on the bed next to me. I felt bad, knowing that she already had a lot to think about. Unlike me, she didn't have parents who would let her do whatever she wanted.

Her future was already set, and her parents were not easily changed. They would probably reject her if they knew she was trying to get into the Institute of International Arts.

"I knew something was wrong," she went on, lying on her bed beside me. I turned around to look at her, grabbing her arm.

"You are pretty down," Closing her eyes, she rested her head on my shoulder. I took the opportunity to hug her, letting out a sigh.

"The world is so wrong when you are sad, El," she murmured, hugging me back. We stayed like that for a few minutes, both of us thinking about different things. My mind wanders from Killian to Sasha, to my future. Everything that was once clear was now a blur.

It seemed like Sasha fell asleep not long after that, exhaustion setting in. I stayed awake for a while after that, lying on my back, deep in thought. I texted my mom that I would be home after dinner.

To be honest, I was already tired from being upset, but still, my heart was filled with melancholy. There are many legends in the wolf community, which come straight from Douglas Miller's Werewolf Guidebook, that say that once you have been rejected, you will never be healed. It's not that you won't get a second chance.

Your heart always longs for another piece. Some wolves even die from it, because their hearts basically give up in despair.

Once I got tired of staring at the ceiling, I closed my eyes. Shortly after, sleep came to me, and I let it go without a fight.