Adjusting - 16. Chapter 15 - Conscious

Accidentally screwed up when I originally posted this chapter and only posted half of it.
 
**pats self on back sarcastically**
 
Sorry about that you guys 

I can't remember most of what happened while I was healing. I assume that I slept the majority of the time. I can remember small snippets, but attempting to force my memory only causes a long-lasting headache that harms more than helps. What I can remember isn't much of anything, either. A few times, I felt something - the rustle of blankets around me, being moved to a more comfortable position, a hand on my own. Sometimes, I heard things - low murmurings, distant arguments, soft crying. And, occasionally, I saw something - blurs of blues, flashes of white, and, sporadically, a pair of soft, brown eyes.

But, mostly, I just slept.

This was unfortunate for me.

Though I can't remember the fine details, I do remember the terror I felt in my frequent nightmares. Usually, I was trying to run, going nowhere fast. By the end of my dream, a monster had captured me with the intent to harm, if not kill.

The monster didn't have a face, but he didn't really need one. He exuded evil, even though whenever I tried to pinpoint what exactly he looked like, his figure and looks vanished.

I suppose it didn't matter what the monster in my life looked like. Just add it to the ever growing list of people wanting to hurt me.

Usually, my nightmare ended with the monster catching me. It would tackle me to the ground, attacking me from behind so my face was shoved into the dirt. Then, I would suddenly be on my back, and I'd see the monster lean over me before coming closer. Its rank breath would permeate the air and I would see long, sharp teeth.

Then, it was over. Either I'd become partially awake or I would only see blackness until something else changed.

On of my nightmares, though, didn't end so typically. Instead, as I saw the monster's wicked teeth, it didn't stop.Its sharp claws wrapped around my throat. I frantically grabbed at its hands as the claws dug into my skin, drawing blood.

It slightly loosened its grip before bringing its head down to my ear. I heard it licking its lips before smacking them and getting even closer.

I felt its breath on my ear when it spoke in a deep, raspy voice.

"No one will ever love you."

It nuzzled against my ear for a moment.

"No one, except me."

It slowly drew its tongue from the bottom of the lob to the top of the cartilage on my ear.

"I will always find you. And you will always be mine."

My eyes opened. A gasp escaped my mouth.

A bumpy, white ceiling, covered in shadows, lay above me.

My eyes closed.

I could feel my jackhammering heart begin to slow down as my breathing evened out. My nightmare flashed behind my eyelids and I quickly opened them again to rid myself of the image.

After a few moments of just lying there and counting the bumps on the ceiling - four, five, six, why are there bumps on the ceiling?, seven eight, nine - I sat up in my bed.

I was back in my bedroom in the pack house.

Can I still call this "my room"? Will I be blamed for Alex's actions?

When the scent of flowers tickled my nose, I looked toward the nightstands on either side of the bed. Mixed bouquets of carnations, asters, daisies and lilies were on both nightstands, illuminated only by the moonlight from the uncovered windows, making my brow furrow in confusion.

Deciding to figure out what was going on, I hung my feet off the right side of the bed and let them rest on the floor. After a brief moment's hesitation, I pulled myself off the bed and into a standing position, wincing slightly as sore injuries pulled.

Once I had steeled myself, I walked out of the room and into the hallway, ignoring the twinges of pain I was feeling. I made my way down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the living room before finally seeing another person. A lone figure sat slightly slumped on the couch. The TV was on with some human news show on mute. The light from the television crept across the otherwise dark room and illuminated the man's face.

After a moment of watching to make sure he was alive, I entered the room and sat down beside him on the couch.

"Why are you watching CNN?" I asked nonchalantly.

He jumped and looked at me with shock. "You're supposed to be in bed, resting."

I shrugged and stared at the television. Captions scrolled across the bottom of the screen as the man's mouth opened and shut, opened and shut. The show was a rerun of the nine o'clock showing, and had something to do with other humans across the ocean boasting about the size of their weapon stockpiles.

"It's kind of sad, isn't it?" I asked him without removing my eyes from the newscaster's face. "These humans have no real reason to fight. They don't have the instincts we do to protect our territory, and yet, as though desperate to prove themselves, they still try to get more land and keep what they have. But they don't have a natural ability to protect themselves - at least, not effectively - so they just bluster and strut about, hoping no one calls their bluff when they say they're prepared to shoot."

The room remained quiet. The wolf decided not to respond to my statement, and I had no desire to continue. Only the newscaster continued talking silently, switching stories now to the upcoming presidential election.

When the newscaster disappeared and an ad appeared in his place, the silence was finally broken.

"What do you want, Adrian?" Brian asked.

I turned toward him on the couch. Mentally stalling, I gave him a quick once-over. His hair was tousled, but not on purpose - more like he had gripped it too hard while thinking - along with being slightly greasy and in need of shampoo and water. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and just above cheeks that were slightly more gaunt than usual. His clothes were wrinkled. He smelt as though he hadn't washed in days.

Finally, my eyes travelled back up and met his. The brown orbs, usually showing a fierce strength, betrayed the Alpha wolf's sadness and exhaustion.

"I have some questions," I eventually said.

He stared back at me for a beat of silence. Two beats. Three.

"I have answers, but probably not the ones you want to hear."

"At this point in my life, any answers are better than none."

He didn't respond to that - how could he, really? He watched me for a little bit, the silence stretching between us. He broke the moment when he turned away from me, opting instead for the newscaster again.

I didn't think he was going to tell me anything when he finally spoke.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Where should I start?"

I thought about that for a moment. "Start with the attack. When I was... taken."

Brian sighed before noodling in agreement. I gave him a few moments to collect his thoughts. After about a minute had passed, and I was about to give up, he began to tell me what happened.

"After I locked you and the others in the basement, I joined Alex and my dad in the fight. We were quickly split up, though. The entire fight was over pretty fast - it only took about a half hour. But it took us a while to figure out you were missing, along with Alex."

"H-how many casualties were there?" I stuttered out, dreading the answer.

"Three rogues, but none of our pack. Though we had some nearly fatal injuries."

"Aren't you angry that I escaped?"

Brian turned toward me then, shaking his head and fully confusing me.

"At the time, I was. I was extremely pissed off. But, no, I'm not anymore. I knew how much you hated being confined, and how much you wanted to prove your loyalty. I shouldn't have locked you in."

That shocked me. He seemed to actually blame himself, for my kidnapping. For my foolishness.

Before I could react, he continued with his story.

“It was a couple hours after the attack when we connected the dots. At first, we thought it was you. That you had planned the attack and Alex’s kidnapping, so we would give you and your rogues… well, we didn’t know what you’d want.

“But when no ransom note or phone call showed up, we knew that couldn’t be the case.”

He paused for a moment, turning away from me again and taking a deep breath.

“I was certain you both were dead. My baby brother and his… boyfriend, for lack of a better word.

“Dad kept me in line. He reminded me to not give up, that if you guys were dead, we should’ve found your bodies – after all, why would they be hidden if you were killed in the heat of battle?

“So, we increased our search efforts. The scents were almost gone, and were on the edge of our territory, but we finally picked up Alex’s scent. It was two or three days old. That was about a week after you both had disappeared.”

Brian took a steadying breath and looked back at me.

“We spread out and track it all day. That night, I caught your scents from downwind. They were strong, and I could tell they were coming straight from you guys. So I ran, shifting at the edge of the clearing so I was back in human form.

“I heard him talking to you. That’s when I knew it couldn’t be your fault.”

Brian fell quiet, now looking at his hands in his lap. He didn’t seem to know what to say or do.

We sat there in the quiet living room for a few minutes. The T.V. had switched from a rerun of the news to paid programming of a fancy blender.

“What happened after- after you pulled him off me?” I softly asked, no longer able to contain my burning curiosity.

"I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. He just laughed and said something about how I never used my brain. I almost attacked him then - but I couldn't. He's my brother."

My heart ached at the sadness in his voice, in his hunched shoulders, in his shaking frame. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"We heard the other pack members coming toward us from behind me. Alex just- he just winked and shifted before running. His rogues followed him.”

Brian’s hands reached up to cover his face. His palms slightly muffled his voice, but there was no way I would comment on his slow breakdown.

“I couldn’t let my pack members go after him. Can you believe that? I ordered them to go home instead of capture the man who wants to destroy our entire pack.”

At a loss, I did the only thing I could think of. I scooted over on the couch until I could feel his body against me. Then, ever so gently, I rested my hand on his back.

“He’s still your brother,” I murmured.

Brian suddenly stood up and turned to look at me, desperation burning in his brown, wet eyes.

“My brother is dead,” he hissed. “The Alex I knew would never attack his pack! The Alex I knew was kind and too damn gentle for his own good! What the hell happened to that Alex?!”

With a lone tear trailing down his cheek, Brian fell onto his knees, his head falling into his hands, his shoulders silently shaking. I got off the couch and kneeled down in front of him, resting my hands on his shoulders.

“He’s a great actor,” I whispered. “He’s fooled everyone. This isn’t your fault.”

Brian’s hands dropped, and his eyes rose to meet mine.