Chapter 12: The Twin Wolves

"Wolves fail to hide their integrity just like the way men fail to hide their own animality."

~Munia Khan

Mason

Sleep is a fickle friend.

Sometimes it provides me with an easy escape, drags me into its warm comforters and allows me a safe haven from an all too cruel world. Other times it pulls me by my hairs screaming into its dark trenches full of nightmares and memories I've tried so hard to forget, to leave behind in my past. The problem is when I go to sleep I never know which I'm going to get—friend or foe. Which makes the art of sleeping even more terrifying.

I haven't slept in three days.

I've been drawing more lately, depending on where I am in the cycle, dictates how I draw. I'm slowly easing towards my manic high, which is never fun. My sketches have been erratic, quick sharp lines, tons of contrast, but always of the same thing. A wolf in front of a sea, with some weird symbol in the water. But tonight, I've drawn two. The wolves are exact in every way, shape, and form, but have noticeable differences that I'm trying so hard to figure out the meaning behind.

Both wolves have silver fur, that due to my shading, look to gleam in the moonlight. Their ears are more rounded, and are pretty medium in size. The drawing of them shows them both in side profile, with one of the wolves in a more dominant stance, with its ears perked up and its tail sticking straight out, while its gaze is set hard on the moon. The other wolf is looking away slightly, clearly taking a submissive stance, it is crouching a bit, and seems to be shying away from the other wolf in fear. The more dominant wolf has sparkling black eyes, while the other has the same black eyes but with a reddish tint to them, and instead of looking beautiful they look almost—evil? I can't put my finger on it.

I chew on my lip, trying to figure out why I drew this. Of course, I draw as a hobby and not everything I draw has meaning. But I can't shake the feeling like this particular one means something more.

And after finding out yesterday that my life may be more screwed up than I previously believed it to be, I'm learning to question everything. I have been drawing many wolves now for the past month, but come to think of it, I've been drawing wolves my entire life. Going through old sketchbooks, I realized that I've been doing so since about fifth grade when I first taught myself how to draw.

A loud bang breaks me from my thoughts, I jolt in fear from the sudden loud noise. I close my eyes shut, and begin to whisper to myself. "It's just the front door. You're safe. It's just the front door. You're safe." I take a deep breath trying to steel my nerves. My door swings open and my foster mom stumbles into my room reeking of booze. I begin to tug on my sleeves, trying to use the soft fabric as an anchor. I've never trusted my foster parents, like a child should, but I fear my foster mom the most. She's never hit me like her husband has, but the thoughts of what she could do me, leave me wanting to disappear into a deep, dark, and safe hole.

She lights a cigarette, before sticking it between her lips, taking a short drag. She nods to me in greeting, before asking, "Did the check come in the mail yet?" She is referring to the child support checks the state sends every month for them to use to take care of me, but that they use to buy other things for themselves, like drugs and alcohol instead.

I nod timidly, walking over to my old and squeaky dresser, pulling one of the drawers open wincing at the grating sound, before handing her the envelope. She smiles big, showcasing her chipped and browning teeth, before snatching the check up from me with a sound of glee. Without another word, she walks out of the room.

I once hid the check from them, I shiver at the memory. I had wanted to save it to buy myself some more art supplies and pay for some medicines to mediate my highs and lows since we don't have insurance, but they found out I was hiding it from them under my pillow when they ransacked my room for drugs. That was about a year ago, and I'll never forget how painful the purple and blue bruises were that decorated my skin. I couldn't go to school for a week.

But I've got a roof over my head, and I'm far away from my old foster home. More importantly, I'm miles away from her. With that thought in mind, I shut my sketchbook, crawl underneath the thin covers, and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Emerson

I think River is cheating on me.

I clench the steering wheel tightly until my knuckles turn white, and glance at the empty passenger seat. When I drive to school it is usually with River. Blake walks everywhere since she avoids entering cars, and since we spend a lot of time together that translates to me also walking everywhere as well.

This morning River called me saying he can't come to school today because he has to visit his grandparents again. I have been wanting to meet his family for so long that I went over to his apartment and asked if I could come with him. With which he answered, rather heatedly, that no I couldn't. I assumed they must be homophobic and that's why he was pushing me away, so I offered to introduce myself as just his friend, but then he blew up on me telling me to stop asking. He kicked me out of his new apartment after that, and now here I am. Driving to school, totally unsure of every aspect of my life, including my love one.

For the most part River is sweet, eccentric, caring, and incredibly wise, but once in a while he'll get a flare of what I call "dark moods." They usually only last a few hours or a couple of days and they are usually so unexpected, popping up out of nowhere. These are times when his contagious laugh turns humorless, and he gets very annoyed or angry. He often speaks with austere wit and biting humor. I always wish that I could do more to help him when he gets like this, because I know he hates that part of himself, but it doesn't make me any less attracted to him. I love each and every shade of him, cloudy days and all.

I tend to overthink a lot of the time. It's a flaw of mine that often pushes other people away, but I can't help it. And with the anxiety and uncertainty that comes with uniting a pack (well, attempting to anyway), balancing a relationship on top of it is hard, especially when you are lying to the person you've now come to realize you love. I am itching to tell him everything, I'm just waiting for the right moment. All of these secrets are creating a wedge between us, not to mention the strain of having to keep our relationship secret because I'm not ready to come out yet.

I don't know if I ever will be.

***

I prop my foot up on one of the benches in the locker room, before I go to gym class. Someone taps my shoulder to get my attention from behind, I turn my neck to see who it is, just some random sophomore on the basketball team. "Hey man, I'm sorry about the courts." He said, without a hint of sympathy in his voice as far as I can tell. Like I said, the other teams, besides swim, hate us for getting all the glory, so they like when we are knocked down a peg or two.

I just nod at him, before turning back around to finish tying up the laces. I finish, and place my foot on the ground once more. For the past few days, the courts are all anyone has talked about. Police officers have been sent to interview kids to find out who did it. Our principle has ensured us that the courts will be ready in a few weeks tops. They've got construction workers working on it all day and night. Whereas, if it was the basketball team's court, the school may have just cancelled the rest of the games in the season.

I walk out of the locker room into the school hallway. I turn the corner towards the direction of the west gym where class is being held. I see Kyle's backpack and walk towards him to say hi, before noticing that he's having a whispered conversation with an officer, not just any officer though, the Commissioner. Why would he be interviewing students? Kyle especially, since I told them I'm pretty sure it was a girl. The Commissioner is Zoey's dad, maybe they are just talking about her?

He turns and leaves, leaving Kyle in a nervous state. I start to walk towards him since the gym is in that direction, but before I can reach him, Titus rounds the corner towards me. I nod at him and he ignores me, walking past me. I open my mouth to say something before shutting it when I see he is walking towards Kyle, rather angrily too. He starts whisper-shouting at him, but I'm too far away to hear what is being said. Titus shoves him into the nearest locker—hard, before walking away leaving a stunned Kyle behind.

How do they even know each other?

Titus

I pull the scruffy, skinny nerd by his collar, practically dragging him into the room since he wanted to walk so slowly. I've always hated slow walkers—some of us have got places to be, it's not my fault that your life has no meaning and you can barely stick one foot in front of the other. We reach the classroom and I shove the new guy in which raises a chorus of shocked gasps in the room.

I scan the room with my eyes and it's the same ensemble as every day. Rows of desks facing an old white board with a list of essay and homework orders that need to be filled. On the desks are scattered supplies like laptops, pencils, loose-leaf paper, basically anything the average nerd needs to get some quality work done. My hard glare silences the room. I cross my arms across my chest, before my voice booms in to the room.

"I've brought you all a new one. This is Fishknee—" before I can continue introducing the new nerd I hear a squeak come from behind me, resembling the sound a tiny, frightened mouse would make. I turn and see Fishknee looking at the ground with his knees slightly wobbling. I guess that's where the name comes from.

I roll my eyes. "Speak up."

"M-M-My n-name—"

"Louder, kid."

His face shrivels up for a second and I think he might cry or wet himself at least. "M-M-M—"

"For goodness sake!" I crouch down to his level and lean my ear towards his mouth to hear what he's trying to say.

"My name i-is F-Finley."

I stand up straight. "Oh, why didn't you just say so? Anyway, Finley will be joining the team."

I turn to him. "From now on, you will be working with the rest of your people to provide the students here with what they most desire. Drugs, you may ask. No, because for the most part I try and stay on the legal side of things. Sex? No, because you are all prepubescent virgins that would probably faint at the sight of a women's body. Or man's, person's, I don't judge. No, what the students here most want is to live without a care in the world, and how can they do that with mountains of assignments due?" I snap for dramatic effect, "that's where you all come in."

I walk around the room. When I reach a group of people they shy away from me and keep their heads down. "Essays, word problems, projects, you name it. The more work you complete, the more money you make. It just has to be A+ work, if it's not, you get a pay reduction. And since I am the brains of the operation, I get seventy-five percent of all your earnings." They all chose to be here to make money so they are all here on their own accord. Out of the corner of my eye I see one of the nerds clench their fist tightly, I walk over to him confidently. "Is there a problem here? Do you not like the way things are run? Huh?" He quickly shakes his head, and unclenches his fist.

I cuff him on the shoulder—hard, before walking over to an empty chair, gesturing for the new kid to come sit down. He does so apprehensively. I take a new order that I scribbled down in my pocket, one for an analysis of the various themes in "To Kill a Mockingbird", two thousand words. He takes it with a shaking hand, and visibly relaxes after reading the note.

I back away from him and clap my hands loudly getting everyone's attention once more. "Okay everyone that was enough of a break; let's get to work and make me some more money."

*River*

River walks into a dark room with concrete walls and weird lines on them that look like scratch marks. The air is dusty, and although there are no windows, a cold breeze runs through the air that sends a chill down his spine. The confining and eerie ambience resembles the insane asylum that he visited in the nineteenth century, that memory causes his legs to shake with every step he takes.

After reaching the center of the room, a figure standing in front of him becomes startlingly clear. The one bright fluorescent light bulb above her, the only light illuminating the dark room, makes the woman's pale skin glow with a ghoulish tint making it look almost gray. Stepping closer, her features now become discernible.

The woman's face is set into a permanent snarl, she is shorter and more plump than most women, and her eyes are such a dark blue they almost look black. River winces, as he always does, when he sees the black eyepatch covering the woman's left eye. In her right hand, the woman is balancing a cane with eyeballs all over it. And just like the googly eyes kids play with these days, the eyes on the cane seem to...move.

River tries to shake off his nerves and stand up straight. She notices his presence almost immediately, and her one eye flickers directly to him, so swiftly that he startles and takes a step back. He thinks, it's almost as if she can see right through him.

"I have a new assignment for you." Her voice is gravely and scratchy like a nail being dragged on metal.

River's eyes go wide at this, his fear quickly turns to anger. "No." He says through clenched teeth, and with a newfound courage coursing through his veins.

Her irises seem to get even darker at this. "No? What do you mean "no?"'

"I'm sick of being a part of your stupid game. Blake is my friend, and she trusts me, I'm not going to jeopardize that. And Emerson is my boyfriend for goodness sake, I can't keep lying to him, I care about him too much! But you probably don't know what that feels like, do you? To care for someone? To have someone care for you back?" River expostulates.

She is silent for a moment, before reaching in to her coat pocket and taking out a small vial of a red substance that seems to glitter, despite there being a lack of substantial light in the room. River's throat becomes thick and he swallows hard, suddenly finding it hard to breathe properly. She smirks at River's fallen expression, saying "If you don't do what I ask, I won't give you this."

River's jaw is set hard, but he doesn't refuse. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, defeated.

She smiles a crooked smile showcasing rotten teeth underneath. "Bring me the boy with the silver hair."

"Mason?"

She nods. "He seems to be the weakest link."

River seems to sober up at this. "No, how do I know you won't hurt him? He's done nothing to you. I won't let you hurt more innocent people!"

She purses her lips before replying in a chipped voice, "You know, on second thought I think Emerson can use another scar to match his old one. I should call my goons again, get them to cut in a little deeper this time, perhaps—"

"—No!," River cuts in hastily face losing all color, "Please don't hurt him." River sounds completely devastated and his voice cracks at the end. "I'll do whatever you want."

The woman tosses him the vial and he catches it sullenly. "Then get it done."

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What do you think Mason's drawing means, is it really just trivial? What do you think now that you've gotten a closer look at Titus' school "business?" How do Titus and Kyle know each other? And what is River going to do now? Thank you for reading this chapter! Please remember to like and comment <3 Stay golden :)

~Fallen Rose🥀