The Crossed Pathways to Home

Lucy's world is fading. Sad, alone, her grandmother dying, the rest of the world hating her, what's to look forward to?
But when a mysterious blonde haired boy turns up...


17. Chapter 17 (serious trigger warning)

~~Sitting in my room, getting ready for Grandmas' funeral, I felt my panic starting to take hold.
"I can do this" I shakily told myself.
No you can't!, the voices jeered.
I walked downstairs and stared in disgust at Peggy.
"Not coming?" I asked, agitated. She didn't look at me.
"No!" she snapped. I shook my head, but as I left...I saw that her eyes were red.
"Crazy woman" I murmured.

It felt strangely quiet, walking up to the Church. After a long debate, really with Christopher being the only one on his side, Mason told me that he felt I should go to the funeral on my own.
I sat in the cold Church, put my head down and tuned out.
I was determined not to look at anyone, not to listen, not to see the coffin. I had already refused to give a speech, to play any part whatsoever in the ceremony.
I did not want apologies or stories. I just wanted to be with Finbarr.
Selfish git.
And it wasn't that I was abandoning Grandma.
I was simply saving myself.

I walked away from the Church as quickly as I could, keeping my head down. I wanted to be away from the sea of black. I would even be happy to see Christopher or Manix, just some from of familiar face, someone who wouldn't force me to deal with this.

I made my way towards the forest, even though I had told Finbarr, Mason and Christopher that I would go back to Peggys' house, ensuring my safety.
Near the entry stood someone that I felt I knew. He looked up at me, and I looked into his eyes, my usual way of determining who people were these days, and quickly looked away again.
His eyes were one of the Swedish wolves. Really dark colour, cat-like pupil.
I knew if I kept staring at his eyes, he would notice. But I knew he was probably also looking for me, so I kept my eyes firmly to the ground.
"Excuse me?" he asked, jogging easily up beside me. "You wouldn't know where I could happen to find a Lucy O'Hara?"
I knew he was looking for me.
"No" I said quietly, shaking my head.
"You should listen to Finbarr. Your eye twitches when you lie."
"What do you want?" I asked, finally turning around to him, looking up to his face.
And that's when I sharply inhaled.
It was Austin.
And I had a strong feeling that he was a pack leader. Mason had told him to sort another werewolf out.
And I was alone.
And he doesn't think witnesses should live.
This was serious.
Maybe you will die now, the monsters cheered.
Bog off, not the time!, I yelled in my brain.
"Darling, no need to shake" he taunted, a sharp-toothed grin growing on his face.
I felt sick, my whole body felt like jelly. My vision became a little more blurred, and I hoped that I wouldn't faint.
"What do you want?" I shakily repeated.
"Just to apologize" he said, mockingly innocent. "One of my pack member should've never attacked you. On Irish Wolvien territory, of course. But" he slightly cocked his head, twirling his eyeballs, looking around.
"We're not quite on their land yet."
And as quickly as a bolt of lightening, he grasped my neck, and held me up against a tree.
I was violently flailing, panicking, chocking. I had an intense fear of touching, or even going near my neck. I pulled at his hand, desperately tried to scrap him off, but of course, I couldn't.
"The more you struggle, the more I squeeze" he nastily threatened, tightening hs grip.
Do it, go on, kill her! Do us all a favour!, the monsters cheered.
I stopped squirming, but still desperately clawed at his over-sized paw, tears streaming down my face.
"Listen here" he hissed. "I would kill you now, but I'm going to let you live so you can terrify that little pack of yours."
No!, exclaimed the voices. Get rid of her, do us all a favour!
"I will get this law passed, and it will protect werewolves worldwide from scum like you! It'll stop gossiping busybodies who will expose us, kill us all. You do anything to undo my work, prevent this new law being pass, I'll kill your little friends first, and then you. Got it?"
I let out a tiny yes, little pools of my tears gathering on his hand.
"Good." He let go, and I landed on the ground with a thud. I wrapped my hands around my neck for safety.
"We're on the same page then. Do not dare to even attempt to listen to that ring."
I watched him leave.
I couldn't go to Finbarr now, not like this. I'd seriously freak them all out.

I sat on my bed, shaking. Austin had threatened everyone, not just me.
But I knew at the same time that I had to help the Irish werewolves.
"This can't be happening, just can't be happening."
I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Grandmas' funeral, the results of the threat from Austin, the inevitability of my task from Christopher, Taras' little face.
"I can't cope with this" I raggedly breathed. I tried to stop hyperventilating. I was on the verge of a panic attack.
You know what would help.
It was just one voice this time. The others had silenced to let this soft, female voice be clearly heard.
Tears dripped of from my nose, into my hands.
"I am not killing myself, that wouldn't be helping anyone!" I said, my voice shaky with anger and stress.
Oh no, the gentle voice said. Don't kill yourself. You're stressed. You've reached your limit. You deserve to calm down.
I gulped. This was sounding pretty good, even though it shouldn't.
All it takes is a blade. Just a little cut, she said soothingly.
"It is just a cut" I said quietly, letting myself become drawn in.
That's all it is, she reassured me. What difference will it make? What difference is one more tiny scar?
I looked at me wrists. She was right. They were scarred beyond belief. What difference would one more scar make?
I rummaged through the bathroom medicine cabinet and found an extremely sharp pair of scissors.
I looked at my wrist, then wondered if I should cut my thigh instead. Cutting my wrists were dangerous. But that was dangerous if I cut too deep into my thigh.
Do both, the motherly voice encouraged. Have some fun. You deserve to.
I gulped. I missed cutting myself. Desperately at times. And I always wanted to experience cutting my thighs. A morbid curiosity.
I felt my body being consumed with panic.
It's O.K, the friendly voice continued. It's O.K, just cut. Release the pain. Make it go away.
"I can't cope with this" I then smiled, and closed my eyes.

-Guys thanks for all the reads and likes and comments so far- It means a lot ♥

If you want to talk to me about anything at all, my twitter is @Jepicness4evr (just send me a tweet if I don't follow you back straight away and I'll follow you and we can DM) and my kik is Jepicness4evr

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