His eyes widen at my cheek, stained ruby red with blood, pain, and tears.
"What happened?" he asks, somehow compelling me to betray the truth.
"Ms. Pearl, uh, slapped me," I finish in a whisper, choked gasps escaping me as a fresh wave of pain enters my body.
I can still feel them, the nails as they dug into my cheek. My hand throbs also, but it nothing against this blinding terror, coupled with the agony.
"If I don't finish cleaning the entire orphanage tomorrow, which I won't, then she will deprive me of food for the next week! And I only have about three or four dollars in my account at school."
"That's all?" he asks suspiciously, and I gaze into his emerald eyes without a word.
He nods, taking my hand in his, staring at the bruise that was starting to form.
"I'll help you out of this, Berenice" he determines, swirling his soothing fingers around the purple splotch, "Very soon."
With those words, he leans closer to my face, escalating my heartbeat, making me almost tremble.
Why is he getting so close? I… haven't accepted him yet.
He cups my face with his strong hands, brushing his lips across my cheek. I look in wonder as the pain recedes, retreating back to where it came from.
As he lets go, I put my own hand to my cheek, feeling a slight wetness where the blood used to be over the puckered skin.
"This works better when I'm in wolf form," he says apologetically, "but I didn't want you to think I was going to eat your cheek off."
"What did you do?" I question, my voice filled with awe.
"Werewolves' saliva has light healing properties; it can soothe and mend small scratches," he explains.
So this wetness...
"You spat on me?!"
I exclaim in a loud whisper, shoving his arm away.
He laughs as he wipes the saliva off my cheek, rubbing it on his shirt.
For a minute, it seems utterly natural, us both laughing and smiling as we sit in a room with only one bed, an incredibly handsome man like him paired with a girl like me.
None of the usual awkwardness surfaces—both of us like little children—I actually participating in his games.
I push him off the bed, and he thumps on the floor. His hair ruffled and messy, his white teeth shining, he seems now more human than ever. He stands up, a piece of white fluff sticking to his hair, and grins.
"Is this the real you, Berenice?" he asks, using his all-knowing gaze to look into my soul.
I stiffen a little at his words, a little perplexed.
"What do you mean? I've always been the real me."
"No," he argues, "you haven't. From the first minute I met you, you had shut me out. You had built a wall around you, an impregnable one that nobody could surpass. But now it is broken, isn't it, Berenice? Don't you feel better this way?"
In a moment of reluctance, I lay down on the hard bed. Somehow, the orphanage's beds are harder than the floor, and has given me many sleepless nights.
Patting the place beside me, I beckon for Caleb to join me. There is shuffling, and then there is his breath as it mingles with mine, another presence evident.
I point to the stars out of the window, the millions of tiny dots scattered in the deep night.
"Once, when I was a little, I asked my parents what stars really were. I had just finished watching The Lion King, and the part about the ancestors were really confusing me. They told me that the stars weren't really lions like the movie suggested, but people. Every star up there is a person that cared about me. When they died, they would join the stars and watch over me. They told me I would never be alone, for I would always have the stars as my companion."
"And you believed that?" he sputters in laughter.
"Shut up, Caleb. I was 4!" I reach and pinch his arm, then continue on.
"Ever since then, I have always wondered which star would be my Mom, and which one would be my Dad. I think that Mom would be a beautiful and bright star because of her boisterous personality, and that Dad would be a little bit more subdued. But most of all, I know that if they are up there, they would definitely be close together, almost touching. Every night, I look up into the sky and try to find them, but I haven't yet. I know it is silly to have faith in something like this, but it is the only way for me to feel like I am not alone."
There is silence as we both scan the deep black, hoping to see the two lights that I know I will instantly recognize.
"Berenice... could you tell me what happened to them?" he questions timidly, unintentionally releasing the pain and sorrow from within.
I wince as they are all forced to the front of my memory; my mom, dad, and the haunting red eyes.
"I guess I do owe you an answer at least," I resignedly say, "you have saved my life many times."
"Just tell me if you want to," he urges, "only if you feel comfortable."
"I'm fine," I reassure him, though tears still brim on the edge of my eyes.
There is silence as I form my words, and then I speak.
"It was on a cold Friday morning when we were driving to the lake. We had rented a house there and were going to stay for a couple of weeks. It was a short drive, about thirty minutes, to reach the lake, so we just took Dad's truck. We were very excited, laughing and smiling, my mother sitting with me in the backseat. Everything was perfect, like a fairytale.
It was about fifteen minutes into the journey that the weirdness started.
First, the chills. Shivers suddenly started to race up and down my back, shocking me. Coldness seemed to seep into my skin, and even though I was tightly bundled in a huge jacket, that did nothing to stop it.
Then there was the fear. I had no idea why, but I was deathly frightened. Of what, I had no clue.
And lastly, the darkness. Everything seemed to go black at this moment, yet I could still see. It was strange, as if it wasn't an actual blackness, but only one inside my head. I thought I was going crazy.
Suddenly, a creepy white thing appeared… the same one as the creature you killed earlier. It had a body like white mist and truly horrific eyes that could inflict terror just on its own. I screamed, trying to alert Mom, but she couldn't see it. She couldn't see the disastrous monster before me. Right then, the thing seemed to look at me with its awful gaze, delving into my soul. Then it turned, and focused on the man driving the car. Dad.
It devoured him. I could see it. The evil white ghost had charged into Dad's chest, and he had suddenly gone rigid. Mom noticed his behavior, and called Dad's name, but he didn't turn, or lift his hands from the steering wheel. But he always pressed the gas. Never, even in his last moments of life, did he release the gas.
Mom reached forward and touched Dad's shoulder, and he finally turned. It was truly horrific, frightening us both. His face was expressionless, but his beautiful chocolate eyes had turned to a deep, fiery ruby. Mom and I both started to panic, and she began to reach for the doors, to try to open them so we could both escape. But this stranger with the same face as father had locked them, imprisoning us both inside.
We began to approach a cliff, the bottom of it piddled with rocks and bushes, upon which we had to pass to reach the lake. Dad pressed the gas even harder, ignoring the 25 mph speed limit. We were going almost 70 mph now, signaling certain devastation. When we reached the turn right at the cliff's beginning, Dad released the steering wheel. He leaned his head back, the spirit dwindling within him. I watched in fear as we drove off the edge of the cliff, suspended in the air for a few seconds before falling to our deaths.
I... don't know how I lived. Mom had jumped at me, shielding me with her body, but it was a ten to fifteen foot drop, full of bounces and rolls. Everyone called my survival a miracle, and that my life was saved by God," I whisper, "but w-why would God want to save me?"
I burst into tears, the memories fresh and scything, hate brewing. Caleb watches me, his tears matching my own.
"It's okay, Berenice," he murmurs as I cry, embracing me tightly.
"You have me now. I'm here for you."
I let the comfort surround me, feeling almost surprised at the fact that I wasn't pushing him away. But now, I needed him more than anyone.
"I hate them, Caleb!" I cry, my voice of anguish.
"I hate the Shifters."
Everything becomes blurry, my voice more and more distant.
My eyes close, the droplets of sadness dripping down my cheeks, and I surrender myself into Caleb's warm embrace, hoping he will soothe my wounded heart.