The Alpha Bond She Ran From

Rules for survival

POV: Maya

The walk home was quiet. Theo held my hand and stared at the ground the whole time and his little sneakers scraped against the sidewalk with every step we took. He really was dragging his feet.

I wanted to say something, I wanted to tell him it was okay but we both knew it wasn’t.

The playground was behind us now but the thing inside Theo was not behind us.

We turned onto Trinity street and I could see our apartment building at the end of the block. It was painted gray, the paints were already peeling and the gutter leaked out to the sidewalk every time it rained.

I climbed the stairs first with Theo behind me.

The railing was loose and I always told him not to lean on it.

I unlocked the two locks and pushed the door open.

The apartment was small.

One bedroom with a bed I shared with Theo because he still had nightmares.

A kitchen so tiny I could touch the fridge and the stove at the same time if I stretched my arms out.

The walls were thin and I could always hear the neighbors next door.

The house wasn’t much but it was ours.

Theo walked inside and went straight to the window. He liked to look at the cars go by on the street.

I locked the door behind us and leaned against it for a second.

I closed my eyes and remembered what happened in the playground. If that mom had looked or if that kid had screamed. If anyone had seen what I saw.

I pushed off the door and went to the kitchen.

I needed to do something with my hands.

I opened the fridge and grabbed milk, eggs and a half loaf of bread to make a sandwich for Theo.

Theo didn’t come to the kitchen. He stayed by the window.

I made him a sandwich even though he didn’t ask for one.

I cut it into triangles the way he liked it.

I put it on a plate and carried it to the little table by the couch.

“Theo,” I said. “Come eat.”

He did not move.

“Theo.”

He turned around and looked at me.

But there was something in them that made my stomach hurt. He looked like he was trying to figure something out. Something too big for a four year old to understand.

He walked to the table and climbed onto the chair. He looked at the sandwich but didn’t pick it up.

“Mama,” he said.

“Yeah baby.”

“Why did that boy push me?”

I sat down across from him.

I did not know how to answer that.

“Some kids are not nice,” I said. “That is not your fault.”

He picked up the sandwich and held it in his hands. He still did not take a bite.

“I got angry,” he said quietly.

“Yeah. I know.”

“When I get angry my body feels hot.”

“I know baby.”

“It feels like there’s something inside me that wants to come out.”

I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them he was looking at me with those silver gray eyes that were so much like his fathers.

There was something else in them. Something that came from his father.

I reached across the table and took his hand.

"We need to talk about something," I said. "Something important."

He put the sandwich down and gave me his full attention. He was good at that. When I needed him to listen he always listened. He was too good at it for a four year old.

"I need you to remember something," I said. "I need you to remember it all the time. Even when you are playing. Even when you are happy. Even when you are sleeping."

He waited.

"You cannot let anyone see," I said. "What happens when you get angry. The hot feeling. The thing inside. You cannot let anyone see it."

He pulled his hand back. Not because he was mad at me. Because he was thinking.

"But why," he said.

"Because people will not understand."

"What will they do?"

I did not want to say it. I did not want to put those words in his head. But he deserved the truth. He deserved to know why I grabbed him and ran every time he was different.

"They will take you away from me," I said.

His face changed. His eyes got wide and his lip started to tremble.

"They will take me away from you?"

"I will not let them," I said quickly. "I will never let them. But we have to be careful. We have to be smart. That is why we have rules."

"Rules," he said. His voice was small.

"Rule number one," I said. "Do not get angry. If you feel the hot feeling, you find me. You come to me and I will help you calm down. Okay?"

He nodded slowly.

“Rule number two. Do not fight even if someone pushes you, even if someone is mean. You walk away, come find me and then we leave.”

“That’s not fair,” he said. His voice was getting louder.

“He pushed me first. He was the one who…”

Rule number three,” I said. I kept my voice calm even though my heart was breaking.

“Do not let anyone see. No one can know what you can do. Not your teachers, not the kids at the playground. No one.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then his face crumpled and he started to cry.

I got up and went around the table and pulled him into my arms. He pressed his face into my shoulder and cried the way he only cried when he was truly sad.

"Why am I different," he said into my shirt. "Why am I like this."

I held him tighter.

"You are perfect," I said. "You are perfect and I love you and I will keep you safe."

"That is not an answer," he said. And he was right. It was not an answer. It was the only thing I could give him.

After a while he pulled back and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"I am hungry," he said.

I kissed his forehead and put him back in his chair. I warmed up the sandwich in the microwave because it had gotten cold. I poured him a glass of milk. I watched him eat and tried to smile.

But inside I was thinking about what he said. Why am I different.

He deserved to know. He deserved to know about the world we came from. About the packs and the Alphas and the rules that were written in blood before he was even born. He deserved to know about his father.

But I was not ready to tell him. I did not know if I would ever be ready.

After dinner I gave him a bath.

I sat on the bathroom floor with my back against the wall and watched him.

"You know I love you," I said.

He looked at me and smiled. "I know."

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

He splashed water at me. "You are being mushy."

I laughed. It was the first time I laughed all day.

After his bath I wrapped him in a towel and carried him to bed. He was getting heavy. Soon I would not be able to carry him at all. I tucked him under the blanket and sat beside him with my back against the headboard.

"Tell me a story," he said.

"What kind of story."

"The one about the wolf."

My heart stopped for a second. He never asked about the wolf. I never told him about the wolf. But somehow he knew. Somehow he always knew.

"What wolf," I said.

"The one in your dreams," he said. "You talk about him sometimes. When you sleep."

I stared at the wall across the room.

"He is not a wolf," I said quietly.

"Then what is he."

"He is no one," I said. "Just a dream."

Theo looked at me for a long moment. I could tell he did not believe me. But he did not push. He never pushed.

He closed his eyes and within a minute he was asleep.

I stayed beside him for a long time. I listened to his breathing and watched his chest rise and fall. He was safe. He was here. That was all that mattered.