Twinned Flame

Always The Outsider

Sylvie moved towards the hallway near the equipment shed, the roaring crowd fading into background noise. She places her head on the cold stone and takes deep breaths, allowing the coolness to seep through her body. She rubbed her raw fingers still stinging from the rough archery string,

“Only two more assessments and then I’m done,” Sylvie thought to herself, her head was pounding at the thought. She moved away from the wall, reaching into the pouch at her hip and pulled out a small glass jar of willow bark. Breaking a small piece off, she popped it into her mouth to chew on it; she needed to quickly ease the symptoms so she could compete in her final match. Sylvie swallowed back the bitter taste of the willow bark, feeling it already working its magic when her stomach suddenly tightened. She felt someone step into her shadow,

“Splendid display of skill, Sylvie,” Sylvie tensed at the voice behind her and slowly turned to face him. Bright red hair slicked back with gel, washed out blue eyes that made your skin prick with unease. Polished, and standing at attention, hands clasped behind his back. She frowned.

“Alpha Jackson,” she said, forcing herself to bow slightly since they were still in public.

“What brings you down from the box?” She questioned, eyeing over him to the other Alphas. Braxton followed her gaze, giving a dry laugh.

“Well one needs some space every once in a while,” Braxton said. Sylvie offered a tight smile.

“Sure, of course,” she quipped, corking her jar of willow bark and putting it back in the pouch. The silence stretched between them like an unwanted guest, as she tried to stare anywhere but at the alpha in front of her. Aelis was standing off by the side on his phone, having only followed by obligation, it seemed. Sylvie eyed the lazy Beta, tussled brown hair falling in waves around his face as he typed away at the phone. She looked back at Braxton, he was grinning, eyes stayed locked on her and the knot in her stomach tightened unbearably.

“Is there anything specific you need?” She asked, “Alpha Jackson?” She forced a smile, trying to imitate the one he loves to offer so much.

“I just wanted to offer my congratulations. Both for your earlier victory, and I suspect, the one still to come,” Braxton explained. Sylvie was stunned for a moment, what was this? Congratulations in private from Braxton? She looked at Aelis, trying to gauge if he was secretly recording this, so Braxton could embarrass her and show everyone.

“Oh,” she finally said, trying to read his face for any signs of deception, “Thank you.” Sylvie bowed slightly again, and Braxton did the same, placing his hand over his heart.

“No need to thank me, it’s my job as Alpha to congratulate each recruit on their success so they may continue to shine far beyond this field,” Sylvie nodded at his explanation, that sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach almost made her want to vomit. This was the most unsettling interaction she had with Braxton. She’d rather go back to when he was pinning her to the floor by her neck and force-feeding her moldy cafeteria bread. This refined Alpha acting Braxton wasn’t who she was used to interacting with.

“The next event is about to start; shouldn’t you return now?” Sylvie asked. Braxton turned towards the field as recruits lined up at the starting line. The assessment of speed, a simple race that Sylvie didn’t care to be a part of.

“All recruits, please hurry to the starting line!” Hugo shouted. Sylvie looked over at him, and he cast her a quick look, gesturing with his head towards the starting line. She shook her head and he nodded,

“Will you be joining this one?” Braxton asked. Sylvie looked back at him.

“No, my last assessment is hand to hand,” Sylvie said; Braxton nodded.

“I see, well I’m excited to see it,” Sylvie nodded at him with a ‘hmm’, taking out the willow bark she had been chewing on and going to toss it away. Although it helped at the moment, Braxton’s presence was making it difficult to stomach the bitter flavor.

“What’s that?” Braxton asked. He reached for her, and before she could react, his fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, too tight, as he pulled her towards him. Pain shot up her arm, and she winced back using her free arm to guard her face, a flash of his fist flying towards her played in her memories. Her entire body locked in response, she wasn’t twenty-five years old on the training field, she was twelve being dragged into an abandoned hallway, cornered and alone.

“Answer the question,” Braxton snapped. Sylvie lowered her arm to look at the anger darkening his eyes. He held her wrist up, the willow bark still in her grasp.

“It’s just some willow bark,” Sylvie explained, and she hated how small it sounded. How frightened she had just felt.

“Willow bark? Explain:” He bit out almost menacingly. “What is this? And why do you have it?” Sylvie looked at him confused, searching his face for the punch line. Emphasis on punch. Yet he just looked upset at her,

“I’m not allowed to see the pack doctor unless there are dire circumstances, so I learned about medicinal herbs. It’s just a herb that helps me with my headaches,” Sylvie explained. Braxton ripped the bark from her grip, eyeing it closer before tossing it in the trash.

“Where did you learn about medicinal herbs?” Braxton continued to question, the grip on her wrist tightening and Sylvie was pulled back again to flashes of her early school days. Braxton, antagonistic and nasty, cornering her whenever he could. Beating her down at every opportunity, limping home miles with cracked ribs and split lips. Hugo had to eventually step in when she was found passed out on the side of the road with a fever. That’s when he gave her the book, a book of plants and home remedies. It saved her.

“It was a book Hugo gave me in middle school,” Sylvie finally said,

“You know, when I would come home bruised and bloody,” she snipped, finally ripping her wrist away and stepping back away from him. She held her wrist close to her chest, and Braxton scoffed at her, smoothing his hair out.

“Oh please,” Braxton said with a laugh, and the poised Alpha she’d seen was gone. The surrounding aura had shifted and the revulsion that built up in her stomach threatened to spill out.

“You were never that injured,” Braxton sneered, and there it was. Braxton Jackson the bully back in action. Sylvie returned his sneer, slipping back to the child she used to be, someone who could push all of Braxton’s buttons by simply existing in his presence.

“Well, since you were the one to make me that way, it only makes sense you’d believe that lie,” Sylvie snapped. Braxton rolled his eyes at her,

“So typical, little Sylvie whining about a few bruises. Waah, wah, wah” Braxton mocked, fake rubbing his eyes. Sylvie frowned at him,

“What do you even want with me now, Braxton?” Sylvie pressed. Braxton stopped his little show and shot her with a steady look.

“Nothing,” he said, smoothing his dress shirt down and adjusting his collar. He eyes her,

“Well,” he tilted his head, took a step towards her. He sniffed, slowly exhaling. His smile overtook his face, and bile rose in Sylvie’s throat. She could taste it on the back of her tongue.

“Not now at least,” he finished. He clasped his hands behind his back and curled his lips. He acted like he was turning back into a different person, shaking off his immaturity and stepping into the skin of a creepy, refined Alpha of her nightmares.

“I’ll call you from the winner’s podium,” Braxton said, looking over to the spectator’s box. Hugo called the last lap and Braxton turned to leave.

“Don’t be late, there is a surprise just for you,” Braxton said, shooting her one more smile before he twisted his heel and walked away. Aelis turned to Sylvie, stepping into her view of Braxton.

“I told him that smile scares people,” he said. She shot him a questioning look.

“Wha?” He just shrugged at her, turning himself and jogging to catch up to Braxton as he hurried back to the spectators' box to congratulate the winner.

“Sally takes the win!” Hugo shouts as the audience erupts in applause,

“What the f**k” Sylvie muttered to herself, the tight coil in her stomach burst, and she sprinted to the trash can throwing up everything she had in her stomach. She grips the rim

“No seriously, what the f**k did I just experience?” She mumbled, wiping the bile off her lips. She stumbled towards the wall, bracing herself against it.

“A surprise? Is that what Hugo warned me about?” She thinks, slumping to the floor and fumbling in her bag, reaching for another water bottle. She rinses her mouth, before downing the rest of the bottle. She brings her knees up towards her chest and rests her head on her knees. She shakes her head back and forth as if she’s trying to knock loose the memory of this encounter, like she had done ever since she was a kid.

“Please allow us thirty minutes of your time while we set up for the final assessment!” Hugo announces as the field hands are breaking down the archery and shooting targets. She watched the field, trying to distract herself. The other recruits were standing around laughing and chatting happily in groups. A field hand handed out sandwiches, and she frowned sadly. She dug through her bag again, hoping she had an old granola bar or something to munch on. Nothing, she sighed to herself, turning back to the field. She watched the male recruits fake roughhouse with each other as the females sat around talking in groups. Looking towards the stands, families laughing together, and she felt herself wallowing in her loneliness.

“Alphas and Betas, pack mates and visitors, it is now time for the final assessment. A multi-round display of physical prowess of raw, unkempt power!” he shouted into the mic. It caused an uproar of applause and shouts from the spectators and Sylvie covered her ears. She cracked a smile watching the pride on Hugo’s face.

“It’s now time to welcome all recruits to the center stage,” Hugo explained, motioning to the group; Sylvie caught him scanning before turning and catching her eye. She stood up and he motioned her over. She grabbed her tape from her bag and walked towards the field, diligently wrapping her fingers and hands on the walk over.

“Each recruit will be paired off, and each winner will advance to the next round.” Hugo drew the crowd’s attention to the boxing ring as the peg was slotted in the corner. As she approached, she was suddenly shoved. She caught herself turning sharply to come face to face with Lawrence.

“Well, well, well, it looks like the little rogue is going to join us in the final assessment,” Lawrence laughed to himself. He leaned forward until he was faced to face with Sylvie.

“Let’s see if you can fight without hiding behind your little arrows,” Lawrence hissed. Sylvie recoiled, covering her nose,

“Yikes Lawrence, breath mints next time,” she said. Lawrence’s face went red, and he went to shove her again. She stepped back, bumping into someone who turned with a grunt of annoyance.

“Do you mind rogue?” Rosanna snapped, brushing off her arm and shoulder. Sylvie rolled her eyes, as she scoffed as her and Elsa walked away towards the front. Lawrence stepped back towards her, crossing his arms.

“You better hope I’m not your first match,” Lawrence scowled,

“I can only hope,” Sylvie said, tossing him a smile. Larence shot her a venomous look

“Good luck outsider,” he glared, turning to a couple of other recruits and signaling to them to walk away with him.

“Good luck to you too!” Sylvie said, waving at him, he shot a look over his shoulder, and she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She rubbed her sore wrist with a frown, letting out a shaky breath before trying to regain some composure.

“Every year with that guy,” Sylvie said to herself, stepping towards the back of the group. A field hand rushing up with a poster board onto the podium beside Hugo.

“I will now call out each pair of the starting fights,” Hugo explained,

“Sally Barker and Elsa Joyce,” “Rosanna Walsh and Wesley Hall,”

“Allen Goddard and Lawrence Acosta”

“Thank the goddess,” Sylvie thought to herself.

“Jakob West and Sylvie” Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief, at least her first fight wasn’t with Lawrence. She almost thought the Goddess was going to pull a cruel joke on her, but she lucked out. She finished wrapping her hands in tape, taking care of the bruising on her wrist before walking over to the side of the ring to watch the first match play out.

Across the arena, Braxton sat proudly in his seat in the spectator’s box. He wasn’t watching the fight; he was watching her. When she looked up at him, finally, their eyes met. He smiled.