Tangled

106 Ava: Training (III)

Getting home is like a reward.

35

Every damn day, I stagger through that front door and fall face first on the couch. Lisa takes the recliner, saying she prefers to curl up and face the pain in a fetal position. I like to stretch out. It works.

Kellan has tactfully avoided mentioning how we look since the first day he brought us home and made a small misstep, getting verbally eviscerated by Lisa.

He’s in the kitchen now, ordering food from somewhere. I don’t care where. As long as it’s edible and I can eat it without having to care about table

manners.

Lisa usually complains when Kellan orders something without input from either of us, but she’s too absorbed in napping her pain away to care, either.

My phone buzzes on the table next to the couch, startling me out of my exhausted daze. I grab it, my muscles protesting the movement, and see Clayton’s name on the screen.

106 Ava: Training (I)

[Clayton: Just checking in. Hope you had a good day. Let me know if you need anything.]

He’s been so thoughtful, texting instead of calling ever since that first day when I could barely string two words together without yawning.

He seems to understand that I need space now. It’s nothing like when I was at the Aspen pack and his

desire to take me as a mate was clear between us.

I’ll take it at face value for now, because I can’t handle thinking much deeper than that.

[Ava: Training was brutal as always but I’m hanging in there. Hope you’re doing well too.]

I hit send and toss the phone back onto the coffee table with a sigh. Guilt twists in my stomach, an all too familiar sensation these days. I’m texting Clayton, though I asked Lucas for space. Maybe I should text Lucas, too.

After a minute, I grab my phone, driven by those complicated emotions stirring within me.

[Ava: Hope everything’s going okay for you! I’m doing great here. Kellan’s been taking good care of us. Lisa

lover it here 1

2/9

106 Ava: Training (1)

Okay, that’s not quite a lie. She does like it–the little bit of it she’s seen.

Every interaction with Clayton or Lucas feels loaded with complicated emotions and things left unsaid. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to face either of them without this knot of uncertainty and longing tangling me up inside.

A cramp seizes my belly and I wince, shifting on the couch to try to find a more comfortable position. But there’s no escaping the pain.

It’s an ache that grows in time, gripping my insides, twisting them around, squeezing with each shallow

breath I take.

I press my hand against my abdomen, as if that will help the relentless onslaught of pain. But it does nothing.

I turn to my other side. Still no relief. It’s futile. The pain is inescapable, pulsing through my body with a cruel insistence. It’s as if my very bones are being twisted, my muscles knotted and strained to the point of breaking.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them

15:24

3/9

Ava Training

comes in

God, it hurts.

towards my chest as if I could somehow contain the agony. My fingers dig into the couch cushions, seeking purchase, seeking anything solid to

me away.

on the soft give of the cushions beneath me, the distant sounds of Kellan puttering around in the kitchen. Gradually,

couch.

only thing that ever takes care of

but it

minutes.

it’s gone. It shouldn’t come back for a

while.

so tired. I’m not usually this exhausted after training, but some

is one of

15:24

4/9

Ava. Training (1)

want to sleep and forget

easier to

to the exhaustion. Just a quick

***

open my eyes. Or move my body. Or

don’t know what

I slip

***

wakes me the second

and

veins.

I

Everything hurts.

a helpless victim to

15.24

being stabbed and burning

once.

body’s torn

isn’t

Where am 17

myself. I’m only sensation.

sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the

What is it?

Who am 17

I am pain.

cool surrounds

Water.

It’s everywhere.

I can’t breathe.

I’m drowning

lungs scrabble for air, only to fill with

Training (III)

It hurts.

my body, but it

isn’t a flailing, violent death.

try to escape, but

Only the deep.

Only the pain.

***

again, but there’s nothing.

No air.