Fated

Chapter Fifteen: Options

My Mum. 

Shit. 

I immediately screen the call before throwing my phone down on the bed, in scared, horrified surprise.  

My heart races in my chest. 

Fuck. 

I was hoping she wouldn’t worry until much later, or that Jason would have come up with some excuse – that I had been accepted for a scholarship or something! I don’t know! 

How could I just leave like this? How can I torture my parents like this? I know how this will make them suffer! How could I just do it?! 

I can feel my heart pounding – a tingling sensation making its way to my hands, a numbness consuming them, making it nearly impossible to move even my fingers. 

My breathing is short and ragged as tears stream down my face. 

What am I supposed to do?  

Claire. Cynthia’s voice booms in my skull. We can’t do anything else. Alpha Jason commanded that we never contact them again. 

You know well, Claire, what would happen if we broke this command. We cannot do anything else. We have no other choice. 

Cynthia...  

You’re right.  

I know. My breathing relaxes a little now, Cynthia’s presence a kind and warm comfort. 

But... I don’t know how long we can keep this up... 

I hate imagining how worried they’re going to be. 

I wish they could just forget about me. 

I’ll never see them again. 

It will be incredibly difficult, Claire. But this is how it must be. We cannot change that now.  

I exhale a heavy, staggered breath. 

...Cynthia... 

Do you think I made the right decision? 

Of course. She responds immediately, her tone firm and steady.  

Without a shadow of a doubt, I know you made the correct decision. The only decision you could. 

We must protect our cub. It is as simple as that, Claire. 

I nod my heavy, slow head, my expression pained. 

My phone stops ringing. 

The pang of my heart troubles me so deeply. 

But Cynthia is right. 

As much pain as this may cause to my parents – this was the only decision I could make. I had no choice.  

I hope they can forgive me. Or better, I hope they can forget about me. 

A few moments pass as I sit in silence in the hotel bed, trying to calm down and steady my breathing. But after a few of these moments pass, my phone vibrates again – another call. 

My chest clenches as I hesitantly reach over, taking my phone in my hand. I can feel my heart hammering and my breathing completely halted. 

Though as I slowly turn the pulsing phone in my hand, the screen alights, and rather than a name on the screen, like ‘Mum’ or someone else, the screen simply displays a phone number. 

The number seems familiar, and by the time I’ve placed it, the caller has almost hung up. 

“Hello?” I answer in a low, soft voice, trying my best not to let it crack. 

“Hello, is this Claire?” The woman on the other end has a coarse, rough voice – the kind of voice you associate with one too many cigarettes. But there’s something nice about it. Something kind and non-judgemental.  

I’ve never heard her voice before, but there is a small familiarity to it. 

“Yes, I’m Claire.” My response is a little weak, a little wary.  

“Yes, Claire – I've touched base with a few of my contacts and we have a few options for you.” She breezes through the sentence – fluid, like she says this multiple times a day. 

“Oh - okay, wonderful, thank you,” I stutter out. I’m shocked that this person has already contacted others about somewhere for me to live, but not only has she contacted them – she even has a few options for me to consider. 

She works fast. 

I wonder what line of business she’s in... And whether she’s from Curadh. 

“The first option has you moving into an apartment with a fairly local boy from a close-by town– similar age to you. Low rent. No deposit. You would have a room and your own space. 

The second option is a farmhouse with a family some towns away – they wouldn’t charge you for anything financially, but you would have to look after their children, cook, clean, etc. 

The third option is an apartment with another young woman in the city – your age, low rent, a small deposit. It’s over 300 miles away, so if you’re trying to leave, I’d recommend this option.” 

Huh? 

What? 

So many... 

I can feel my brain tightening and my brow furrowing as I try to comprehend everything the lady is saying. 

“Um, okay, sorry – give me a second, I just want to make a note of these...” 

I grab a pen from the dresser, and a small piece of paper, courtesy of the hotel, and ask the lady to repeat, making note of all of the options laid out to me, asking for some extra details, such as the exact cost of ‘low rent’, how much cooking and cleaning I would be expected to do (and whether I would be paid for it), and the ‘small deposit’. 

I hesitate for a moment, my mind still weak, fragile from the past 24 hours. 

“Okay... May I have a chance to think, and I’ll call you back?” I ask. 

“You can take some time to think, but don’t call me back. Text me at this number.” Her tone firm, a little distant. 

I wonder why I can’t call her? 

“Okay, no problem. I’ll text you ASAP. And, thank you so much for this.” Despite my many difficult emotions right now, I am grateful to her. Even if she’s working to help Jason with keeping me away from the pack... 

Overall, the sooner I can settle in somewhere, the better. 

“Have a nice night, Claire.” She responds immediately, before abruptly ending the call, giving me no time to say goodbye. 

My mind feels like it’s buzzing – on fire and drowning all at once.  

Okay... Let’s consider these options... But first, let’s calm down a bit. 

I move to the table and chair near the window – a kettle rests on top of the table, beside a container with an array of coffee, tea and hot chocolate, as well as some UTC milk. 

My body still shaking a little, I manage to boil the kettle and make some of the cheap, crappy hot chocolate.  

Cuddling back under the embrace of the warm duvet, I sip my hot chocolate while thinking about my options. 

Cheap and crappy as the hot chocolate might be, I can feel it soothing my soul with each sip – a hug around the pain in my chest. 

So many options... My future is totally dependent on this... 

I would prefer not to live with a guy I don’t know... But with such low rent, no deposit and being close by? It’s very tempting... 

And it would probably be fine, right? 

I suppose there’s the family as well... 

But can I really commit to taking care of children, cleaning and cooking, while pregnant? And then what about when I have my own little cub?  

Maybe I could stay with the family until I give birth? 

Claire... Cynthia interrupts. You cannot take care of another family while carrying our cub. You will not have the stamina or strength to protect and nourish this cub. 

I tiredly bite my nails. 

Taking care of the family without being pregnant already seems like a difficult task – three small children and two parents whom I would be looking after. Standing on my feet all day, cooking and cleaning – plus, I would have no income nor any free time left over to get a job. I would be stuck there, even after giving birth. 

And further, this pregnancy alone already hasn’t been easy... 

You’re right, Cynthia. I end our conversation there. 

Okay, so not the family... 

Living with another woman my age would be nice – and the rent and deposit are both low... 

But living so far away? 

I know I can never see my family or friends ever again... I can never go back home. But I’m not ready to leave them. I’m not ready to live over 300 miles away – especially not when I’m pregnant. I can’t do it. I know in my heart I can’t move that far away yet. 

And that’s fine. 

So that means... 

I quickly type a message to the lady confirming my decision, before I change my mind.  

This is the right option. I can feel it.  

And within a minute, the lady has responded. 

“This is the number for your flatmate. He is ready for you to move in tomorrow at any time.” 

Already?? 

So quickly? 

Can I really move in tomorrow? 

Something tells me not to question this woman, however, so instead I simply accept. 

“That’s perfect, thank you so much. I really appreciate it, and how quickly you did all of this. Could I get your name? I forgot to ask earlier!” 

“I don’t give my name out. Good luck with your new apartment.” 

I’m a little taken aback by her response. I assume that I will probably never talk to this woman again – this woman who has changed the direction of my life, who has given me some hope (that I desperately needed). It’s a shame. 

Well... that’s that. 

It’s done. 

I have an apartment and I’m moving in tomorrow. 

Then I can get a job, and have an actual opportunity to provide for my little cub. 

I can do this. 

Though as I tell myself this, I can feel my heart dip again, and the tears pooling in my eyes. 

My emotions are too much - a mixture of anxiety, nervous excitement and absolute sadness – I'm starting to see that I actually still have a future, that I can have a life with my cub. But at the same time, in the space of 24 hours I have lost everything – everyone, I have ever cared about.  

I’ve been betrayed and lied to, and now I’ve been ostracised. 

I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to process everything. 

It’s too much... 

Claire. Cynthia interjects, sensing my emotions dipping again. Claire, you will get past this. We must now simply focus on the future. You must keep pushing forward. 

Okay. I sniffle, wiping my tears and my nose on the sleeve of my pyjamas – too tired and upset to bother getting a tissue. 

With Cynthia’s encouragement, I quickly send a text to my new flatmate.  

“Hi, this is Claire. I was told I could move into your apartment tomorrow. I have the money ready for rent.” 

Was that too short? Too dry? Hopefully, it’ll be okay... 

I move to settle myself in bed – I shouldn’t stay up any longer or later than it already is. I need to rest, for my little cub. 

It’s so late that he, whoever he is, probably won’t reply anyway. I’ll charge my phone and check it in the morning. Simple. 

Just as my arm reaches for the light switch, my phone vibrates again. 

That must be from my new roommate.  

He’s fast too. 

I open my phone without checking the sender. 

“Claire, where are you?” From Isaac. 

Fuck. No. 

I freeze, my phone still in my hand. 

I can feel myself panicking again, the numbness creeping back to my hands, my breathing becoming quick and short. 

Did my parents contact Isaac because I’m not home? 

I can’t bare to think about them right now. 

This is too much. 

I move to take the sim card out of my phone – no more messages, no more calls tonight. I can’t handle this.  

Just as I move to take the sim card out of my phone, however, I get another message. 

I hesitantly check the screen. 

“Hey, Claire. I’m Matthew. The apartment is ready whenever you are. I’ll be home all day tomorrow, so come by whenever suits you.” 

Okay. This is... good.  

He seems... nice. 

“Matthew, thank you – I'll come by as soon as I can tomorrow.” Before I hit send, I realise and go back to edit the message, “Also, I can’t use this number anymore. I’ll get a new sim tomorrow, so if you text this number I won’t know.” 

“No problem. 

But shouldn’t I give you the address first?”  I can tell from his tone and delivery that he is absolutely mocking me. 

How embarrassing. My body instinctively curls into a ball, trying to shield itself from the embarrassment as I groan. 

I quickly type out a response. 

“Oh - yes please, thanks!” 

I can’t handle embarrassment on top of all of these other emotions... Why do I do this to myself? I could almost laugh. 

After Matthew sends me the address, I write it on a little slip of paper from the hotel stationery and immediately remove my sim card. 

I am so grateful, that Matthew is so fast at replying – I can't bare seeing more messages from my parents, from Isaac, or anyone else. Now I can keep my sim card out permanently – until I get my new one tomorrow, that is.  

They’ll never be able to contact me again if they don’t have my number... 

So ... 

This is it...