KEILAH
I blinked rapidly, hoping I might still be under the sway of Dahlia’s witchy magic, I stole a glance back at the driver who seemed intent on avoiding eye contact with me.
“Why am I here?” I blurted out, the mixture of awkwardness and surprise clawing at me.
“It was the alpha’s orders to bring you back to your house,” he replied tersely, still avoiding my gaze.
“Excuse me, he what?” I exclaimed, shifting in my seat and leaning closer to him, causing him to flinch away. “Like I gave a damn. But Dahlia never mentioned anything about that. In fact, I was around when-”
My protest was abruptly cut short as he abruptly swung open the driver’s door and then mine. “Please get out. I need to head back to the pack house.”
I couldn’t help but feel a surge of indignation as I stepped out, the chilly homey air doing nothing to quell the heat of my irritation. This was certainly not how I had expected my day to unfold. Despite yearning for this moment day and night, the abruptness of it all left me feeling raw and disoriented. I couldn’t believe it. After everything he had put me through, he was now sending me back without so much as an apology. It was as though I were nothing more than a used and discarded rag.
As I stood there, simmering with frustration, my thoughts racing with unanswered questions and unspoken grievances, a sudden blast of a car horn shattered my spirit awake. Startled, I jumped only to see I was blocking its way.
With a frustrated huff, I reluctantly stepped aside, feeling a pang of resentment towards the driver, and everyone called a werewolf. He sped off, leaving me standing there, bewildered, and wondering what on earth was going on.
But dwelling on the injustice of it all would do me no good. I needed to gather my thoughts and figure out my next move. With a heavy sigh, I turned towards my house, the weight of disappointment settling in my chest like a leaden anchor.
After several minutes of relentless knocking without any reply, a growing sense of worry gnawed at me. Retrieving a spare key hidden beneath a flower pot, I unlocked the door and swung it open. My heart clenched in my chest at the sight that greeted me.
There, sprawled on the floor, was my aunt, unconscious and unmoving. “Aunt!” I screamed, my voice cracking with fear and desperation as I sprinted towards her.
Kneeling by her side, I gently shook her shoulders, hoping for any sign of response.
Panic surged through me as I realized she wasn’t responding. My mind raced with questions, but in that moment, all I could focus on was the fragile figure before me, her stillness a stark contrast to the chaos raging within me.
“Emergency,” I muttered aloud, my hand instinctively reaching for my pocket, only to be met with the bitter realization that I had no phone. With a heavy heart, I gently laid her back down and began searching for her phone, my heart pounding with each second that slipped away. Frantically, I rifled through drawers, overturned cushions, and rummaged through bags, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Tears stung my eyes as I cursed my own helplessness, the urgency of the situation weighing heavy upon me.
Finally, I located her phone on the nearby table, where I looked moments ago but couldn’t see because of panicking. I fumbled with shaky fingers to unlock it. My breath caught in my throat as I dialled the emergency number.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a voice on the other end answered, cutting through the chaos of my mind.
Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to find the words, my voice trembling as I pleaded for help. “My aunt… she’s unconscious. Please, you have to send an ambulance right away!”
As I waited for the ambulance to arrive, dread coiled in the pit of my stomach. Questions swirled in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. What had happened to her? Why had she collapsed so suddenly? How long had she been unconscious?
Minutes stretched into eternity until finally, the sound of approaching sirens shattered through. Relief flooded through me as paramedics rushed into the house, their trained efficiency a stark contrast to my own frantic panic.
I followed them as they worked, hovering on the edge of the chaos, desperate for any sign of hope. It was only when we arrived at the hospital that a doctor pulled me aside.
“Your aunt has a condition,” he began gently, his words heavy with significance. “It’s called familial cardiomyopathy. It’s a genetic heart disorder, and unfortunately, it seems to have progressed quite severely.”
Shock rippled through me as the doctor’s words sank in. Familial cardiomyopathy. I had never heard of it before, but the gravity of the diagnosis hung heavy around me. As the doctor explained the prognosis and treatment options, a whirlwind of emotions engulfed me. Fear, sadness, and a profound sense of helplessness washed over me in waves.
~~
After several days in the hospital, my aunt was finally discharged, albeit with a strict regimen of medications and follow-up appointments. As we made our way back home, a palpable tension hung in the air between us, a silent barrier that neither of us seemed willing to breach. As we settled into the house on the couch, I was unable to contain my frustration any longer. I turned to her, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded, my words laced with accusation. “How could you keep something like that from me?” “What if I didn’t show up. What would have happened?”
My aunt flinched at my tone, her expression pained as she met my gaze. “I’m sorry, darling,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to worry you. I thought… I thought I could handle it on my own.”
I shook my head, the bitterness of betrayal still fresh in my mind. “But you shouldn’t have had to handle it alone,” I insisted, my tone softening slightly. “We’re family, Aunt. We’re supposed to be there for each other, no matter what.”
“I know, honey. And I’m sorry once again,” she said, her words offering a balm to my emotions.
“Now that we’re home,” she started, her voice gentle, “tell me everything that’s been going on with you. You look too thin, like you’ve been starving. Do they starve you at work? Aren’t you going back?” She paused, her concern evident. “And about the man who got into a fight with Cole’s husband to the point of getting me arrested? I heard he was your boyfriend.”
“Aunt, you need to relax,” I exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by her rapid-fire questions. “One question at a time, please. Since you’ve asked everything at once, I’ll brief you on them.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself to shield her from the truth. There’s no way I’m going to tell her about how I’ve been forcefully abducted into a werewolf mansion because I’m human. And that the man she’s referring to is the alpha of that werewolf pack, and that he raped me. And that I might be pregnant with his child. If I were to disclose all of this and the rest, it could potentially cause my aunt to go into another heart shock, which could be fatal. I cleared my throat and continued my lies,
“Work has been hectic, aunt, but nothing I can’t handle. And no, they don’t starve me,” I reassured her with a forced smile. “As for the man who caused the scene, he’s not my boyfriend,” I lied smoothly, my heart pounding rapidly.” Just a misunderstanding that got blown out of proportion. Everything’s fine now.”
I paused, trying to think of a plausible excuse for my appearance. “And about my weight, well, I’ve just been too busy to focus on eating properly. But I promise I’ll take better care of myself.”
I could see my aunt being skeptical about my story, but I kept a steady face until she nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answers.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. But remember, you can always lean on me when things get tough. I’m always here for you, child.”
I forced a smile, gratitude mingled with guilt as I hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Aunt. I’ll keep that in mind.” But deep down, I knew that some burdens were better left untold, even to those we loved most. I love you so much. And I missed you so much.
~~~
As the rest of the day passed by in a blur, my aunt retired to her room for some well-deserved rest. I took the opportunity to busy myself in the kitchen, preparing the chicken and chorizo jambalaya my aunt had requested. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and sizzling of meats provided a comforting distraction, allowing me to momentarily forget the tumultuous events of recent days in Ralph’s hell of a house.
By the time the fragrant aroma of the simmering dish filled the air, evening had settled over the house. My aunt emerged from her room, her fatigue eased by the promise of a home-cooked meal. We settled at the kitchen island table, ready to enjoy our dinner together, when a sudden knock at the door interrupted our beautiful moment. Could that be Cora. I wondered.
“I’ll get it,” I offered, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel as I made my way to the front door, my lips wide with a big smile to see my friend again.
As I turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me was the last person I expected to see – Ralph, the man I had fought so hard to forget, the source of my deepest pain.
Time seemed to stand still as we locked eyes, a myriad of emotions swirling within me. My mind raced, grappling with a flood of conflicting thoughts and feelings.
“Hello, mate,” he greeted, his voice resonating with a deep timbre.
I staggered backwards, my hand instinctively reaching out to steady myself against the vanity, causing one of the pots of flowers to crash to the ground.
Before I could gather my thoughts, my aunt rushed towards me, concern etched on her features.
“What happened?” she asked as she drew closer, her eyes scanning the scene.
I tried to close the door to shield her from Ralph’s presence, but he held it firmly, swinging it open for my aunt to see him.
Despite my inner turmoil, I managed to compose myself enough to offer a tentative greeting. “Hello,” I said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside me. “How can we help you?”
Ralph ignored me, his gaze fixed on my aunt. “I’m your niece’s man,” he declared, his tone commanding. “And she’s coming with me.”