The Poisoned Bond

Gathering Storm

I startled awake with a gasp and bolted upright. I’d had the nightmare again. The one where I am running from something in the forest; but I do not know what is chasing me and I cannot seem to run fast enough to get away from it. My escape is not getting any closer and I cannot scream for help. I always wake up just before I get caught. My heart slowed to a more normal rhythm with each breath I took, but the adrenaline still pumped through my veins. The nightmare lingered, the feeling of being pursued in the woods refusing to release its hold on me. I was drenched in sweat, the rain was beating down on the roof like a waterfall, and the wind was whipping at the windows so hard I was surprised they had not shattered yet.

One glance through the gray light streaming in from the windows at my clock radio told me that it was barely past 6am. I rolled to get up and tumbled out of bed; still tangled up in the sheets. I had not realized my legs were wrapped up. Maybe I was running in my sleep because I was running in my dream? I wiggled and twisted to crawl out of my prison of blankets to the window seat so I could get a look outside. I love the rain, but this storm had gotten rather violent.

I hope Simon is OK. Not just because of the weather but because today was also Uncle Henry's funeral. I wiped away my tears and got up to wander to the bathroom. I could use a cold shower to chase away my nightmares. I know you aren't supposed to shower during storms like this because you could be electrocuted but I'm gonna risk it. I peered through the bathroom window towards the main house – but the rain was so heavy I could not see past the trees down on my lawn. The wind has them bent and creaking.

As soon as I stepped under the cold spray, I felt a little refreshed for the day ahead. I lathered up my hair with my tea tree shampoo; I loved how tingly it made my scalp feel and the scent of lavender was so relaxing. Once I had rinsed the shampoo out, I squeezed the excess water from my tangled locks and massaged the matching conditioner into my hair. I avoid my roots when I use the conditioner. It started freshman year when one of the cheerleaders said it gives your hair more body and I had been washing it like that ever since. I wasn't a cheerleader – but they had really bouncy hair. I twisted the hair into a bun and secured it with a scrunchie so I could wash my face and body while the conditioner set. Then I ran a de-tangling brush through the mess before rinsing it out and getting out of the shower. I was in and out in 15 minutes.

I wrapped my hair in a towel to soak up some of the extra water and headed back into my room to get dressed. I live alone so wandering around naked isn't really a problem. I moved out to the barn after my father had passed away. The pack house just didn't feel like home anymore. Maybe because I missed him. Maybe because my step monster and her entitled children were overbearing and everywhere...definitely the latter.

I stood before my mirror as I got dressed. Taking in my appearance brought an involuntary crease to my brow and I reached up to massage my temples – no need for premature wrinkles. It had taken months to find my uncle’s body. All those nights worrying had taken a toll. It had transformed my body into a shell of my former self. The stress had caused a loss of appetite and insomnia, resulting in dark circles under my eyes and a bony frame. My once bouncy blonde waves of hair now lived in a braid or a permanent bun. Today I decided on a braided bun. I look like great grandma.

I turned so I could use the mirror to get my armband over the sleeve of my dress. Calling this thing a dress is definitely a stretch; this is a shapeless sack. I pressed the black fabric down over my hips trying to smooth it out. It looked like I had slept in it. I turned away from the mirror and headed into the kitchen for a granola bar and a bottle of water; these ones are glass – I have no use for single use plastics; even my sports drinks are made with powder in re-usable bottles that I store in my fridge. I need something in my stomach but today I just don’t think a big breakfast is a good idea.

Glancing at the clock on my stove told me it was barely past 8 am. I should head over to the main house. I fished my rain coat out of the closet by my front door and shook it out. With all this rain I would have preferred to drive but all the recent rain had flooded the lane I used to get out to the main road. I know the step monster would be horrified if I was to drive across her manicured lawn before all her important guests arrived today.

Choices – choices – choices.

I shrugged into my raincoat and stepped out into the brisk morning air; the chill immediately nipped at my skin. The path to the main house was a saturated mess, so I veered towards the orchard. The trees stood tall and stoic, their leaves a patchwork of greens that had yet to succumb to the onslaught of rain. The earth squelched beneath my shoes, a rhythmic reminder of the wetness that surrounded me. I should have put on boots for this trek.

I stuffed the wrapper from my granola bar down in my pocket and took my water bottle out of the other pocket to wash it all down. I almost choked a second later when I heard someone screaming my name like they were being murdered.

The scream pierced the air like a banshee's wail. I spun around, heart hammering in my chest, to find Joyce, aiming a high-pressure hose at me. "Look at your legs!" she bellowed; her eyes wide with horror. "And your shoes! You're not bringing that mess into my house!"

I jumped back from her and kicked my shoes off. "f**k, Joyce – that's cold." I gasped out.

When she finally lowered the hose, her face was flushed with a mix of anger and the exertion of the attack. "Clean this up and put the hose away before you come inside," she ordered, storming back into the house, and slamming the door behind her.

I grimaced, setting my jaw I bent to retrieve my shoes. The warmth of the main house beckoned, but first, I had to put the hose away.

I padded over to the spigot and shut the water off so I could wind the hose back onto the stand. I pinched the nozzle open and locked it in place so the water would continue draining. It took me a few minutes to get everything in order and retrieve my shoes. They were cold and wet, so I just picked them up and carried them into the house through the back door.

"Hey, Kiddo." My Uncle James said before giving me a side hug. He had never been big on displays of affection, but he tried. He looked a little lost today and he was not wearing shoes either. “Want to toss those in the drier for a few minutes? We don't have to leave for another hour." He told me and gestured towards my shoes.

He did not wait for an answer; just took my shoes and wandered off down the hallway. I followed him out – the laundry room would be warm, and it would be far away from Joyce – so it sounded like the best place to be until it was time to leave.

"Maggie!" Pepper called out from the hallway, poking her head into the laundry room. "What are you even doing in here?"

I looked up from my phone. "Just waiting for these to be wearable again," I said with a sigh, gesturing to the soggy canvas flats tumbling around in the dryer.

“You could have avoided that if you had just stayed here last night. Or worn your rainboots for the walk over.” Pepper said – peering into the window on the dryer.

I shot her a look. "Thanks, Sherlock. Those thoughts never occurred to me." I took a deep breath and stretched, my spine cracking like a whip.

Pepper's expression softened. "Look, I know Joyce is a b***h, but sitting in the laundry room isn't going to change that."

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the window on the dryer. “It’s quiet in here.”

"Hey." Pepper said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder and offered a small smile. "How about I make us some tea?"

I held my hands up so she could help pull me to my feet. "Tea sounds amazing."

We left the laundry room behind, the sound of the spinning dryer fading as we moved into the warm, cozy kitchen. Pepper filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. "So, have you had anything to eat today?"

"Yeah, I had a granola bar and a water," I said.

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Well, I was kind of busy," I mumbled, fidgeting with a loose thread on my sleeve.

"Busy or not, you can't run on fumes, Maggs." Pepper opened the cupboard and pulled out two mugs. "Can I at least get you to eat a little something before you go?"

My stomach growled in response, betraying my protest. "Okay, fine," I conceded with a laugh. "But only to stop the nagging."

Pepper grinned. "It's what friends are for." She rummaged through the fridge, her eyes scanning the shelves for something appealing. "How about some toast with jam?"

"Yeah," I said. "That would be perfect."

The kettle began to whistle, and Pepper poured the hot water over the tea bags. The kitchen filled with the comforting scent of chamomile and mint. As we waited for the tea to steep, I couldn't help but feel a bit more relaxed.