Chapter 21: Octavia - Pack of Mine

I swim around in a pit of nothingness, looking for anything at all, but it’s like I’m floating around in space and all the stars have gone home.

“Hello?!”

I shout out, but my voice just echoes further into the black void.

I’m all alone, and I’m stuck here. The ritual didn’t work, that’s for sure, and I’ve found myself trapped in an alternate reality with absolutely nothing.

The boys… what did they do? Did they leave me in the woods to rot and die like Connor? Am I dead?

“Hello there.”

I jump at the sound of a gentle woman’s voice. It’s warm and sultry. I feel a wave of nostalgia and a sense of comfort, but I can’t pinpoint where the sound is coming from. It’s nearby, like it’s in my head, but I can’t see whoever’s speaking.

“Where am I?” I hesitantly ask.

The voice waits for a moment but finally replies to me.

“You’re in my mind.”

“Your mind?”

The femininity sounds more and more familiar, but its angelic undertones make it much harder to recognize.

“Octavia, I miss you so much.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment and my stomach sinks. I know exactly who this is.

“Mom…?”

I swear I can hear her cheeks pull into a smile and I feel a calming warmth, like a deep hug after a hard day.

“Mom, fuck, I miss you too. So much has happened, and I keep having these seizures where I can see things, like prophetic dreams. I think they’re linked to some kind of magic.”

I don’t hear her anymore, but words keep spewing out of my mouth.

“I met these guys, they’re kind of crazy. I mean, they’re hot and all, but sometimes they freak me out.”

How do you tell your mom you’re dating werewolves?

Then I remember the corkboard in the garage, the photos linked to the witchcraft articles, and everything that Skyler said before the ritual. I feel a bit of rage build in my stomach, but I push it down to enjoy time with my mother.

“Mom, my life is insane right now. I wish you were still around so I could show it to you, you’d love one of the brothers.”

One of the brothers. Jeez, I sound like a whore, but I keep going.

“He’s really sweet and kind and gentle. Someone you’d pick for me, honestly. You might not like the other two, though. But…”

I realize I’ve been talking her ear off and haven’t heard a word from her.

“Mom? Where’d you go?”

I float around the empty space to keep looking for her and see a tiny glimmer of light coming from far away. I do my best to b-line right towards it, not sure what I’m hoping for, but there’s a bundle of optimism in my chest.

Maybe she’ll show me how to break the curse, as an apology for screwing them over. Or maybe she’ll tell me she didn’t do it at all.

My muscles burn as I swim faster, pulling myself towards the scene in front of me until I can see it more clearly.

It’s my childhood home – the kitchen table light glows out of the window and I see a silhouette of an older woman sitting at the table, drinking a cup of steaming tea.

“Mom…”

I strain myself more and more through the air that seems to be growing thicker, harder to move through like honey. My lungs burn and I pant, giving it my all.

When I finally arrive at the front door, my feet sink into the ground like gravity kicks in again.

It looks exactly the same as I remember it, maybe a little bit cleaner. I peek into the window and see her still sitting there, waiting for me.

As I open the door, all of the nostalgia hits me like a brick. The smell of burning herbs, a scent similar to the ones I’ve been using the last few weeks, the moody lighting from candles all around the house, the darker-toned decor and wall paint – I feel safe, comforted, and peaceful.

I missed this.

I find my footing and move towards the kitchen to see the back of my mother’s head, her hair perfectly curled with small braids wrapping the front pieces back. Streaks of grey that she used to dye when I was younger highlight her age now, and wrinkles waltz across her aged arms.

“Mom, I’m home.”

I carry my aching legs closer and take a seat across from her, reaching out to grab her hand resting on the table. She’s real, she’s here, I can touch her. I’m not just making it up.

Does that mean I’m dead, too?

She looks up and takes a sip of her herbal tea, eyes glittery and full of motherly joy.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” She smiles as she speaks and places her porcelain cup down, wrapping both hands around mine. “I need to share some things with you, Octavia.”

I wipe tears from my cheeks and try to bask in the moment. I felt so angry with her, but all of it slips away.

So much time has passed and I’m so grateful to sit here in front of her, touching her again. My mind races with so many things to say that I’m not even sure where to start.

I glance around our kitchen and it’s stocked with my favorite snacks as a teen. Dinner seems to be cooking in a pot on the stove, and I can faintly hear my father working on a project in the other room.

“Mom, I’m so sorry.”

I feel the tears coming up again and I try to hold them back.

“I should’ve been more grateful for everything you did for me, and I had no idea. The day that you died, I should’ve said that I loved you back. Because I did, and I still do. I’ve been so fucking lost without you.”

“Language.”

“Sorry.” Oops.

She smiles and nods, taking another sip of her drink and giving me the space to pour my guts out.

“The last few weeks have been especially hard. I've been confused and even hopeless at times, but I have these deep, crazy feelings and I don’t know what to do with them. These men that I met, I’m scared…”

Her finger touches my lips to shush me and her irises stare deeply into mine. They swirl with a rainbow liquid that creeps me out a little, making eye contact feel odd. I try not to get lost in them and listen to her words.

“I’m going to help you, but I have to be quick.” She pulls her warm finger away from my mouth and continues.

“I know what you’re going through, I know everything that’s happening, and it’s all going according to plan.”

Confusion fills my chest and I feel my brows furrow.

“What? What plan, Mom? What do you mean?” She holds her finger up again, her polite way of asking me to shut the hell up.

“My plan for you, for your life.”

She takes a sip from her cup and clears her throat. Suddenly the homely comfort fades and her aura turns uneasy and hesitant.

“Years and years ago, even before you were born, I heard direct orders from God. And I followed through with them. I listened to His orders.”

She tears up and swallows an obvious lump in her esophagus.

“I first met a young boy, he was just 13 years old. He was eating ice cream with his family at a park and I was told to go up to him, place my hand on him and recite a prayer.”

The papers, the pictures on the corkboard in Skyler’s garage, it all comes rushing back. This must be what she’s talking about. I want to bring it up, but I bite my tongue and try to give her the same space she gave me to speak.

“I had no idea what I was doing, I was just listening to God. I was told that this boy would be your mate, one of your fated mates. He would change your life. I walked away and I never saw him again.”

Valentine…

More books to choose from.

Look up Lokepub on Google and find a novel you like.

“The next boy was almost twenty years later. God reached out to me again and I thought to myself, ‘Another one?’ I bumped into him while he was drunk and on a bender in the city. I did the same thing, followed the same orders, and he told me this fated mate would change your life. Then, I never saw the boy again.”

Skyler…

Her voice breaks and she sniffles, but continues on.

“Just before our accident, God told me, ‘One more. Just one more.’ I found this young boy at a college party, sneaking out the back door and crying, walking into the dense forest. I touched his shoulder, recited the prayer and walked away.

“‘This is the final mate, you’ve changed her life,’ I heard the voice tell me. I never saw him again.”

Tristan…

“And then…” She tears up. “God removed my physical way of watching you grow up. But after our accident, I was able to watch over you – how you interacted with these fated mates for you, what you’ve been through. I’ve seen it all, and honey, I’m so sorry.”

Her words rattle me to my core. Anger curdles in my stomach and I stand up, shoving the wooden chair back behind me.

Skyler was right. She did do it, she did curse them. I was hoping he lied, that it was all a way to manipulate me.

She cursed me alongside them.

Resentment tries to break free from my chest and I struggle to hold my rage back.

“I know you were trying to do what you thought was right but…” Goddamnit, here it comes. “You ruined my life! And theirs! You know that, right?!”

She cries into a napkin and cowers down. I want to pity her, but I don’t. Wrath takes over my physical vessel.

“You hurt your own daughter, and you hurt three innocent strangers.”

She doesn’t respond, and I can feel the venom on my tongue.

“You weren’t speaking to God, Mom, you were speaking to the fucking devil.”

I turn away from her and look out the window into the emptiness.

Fuck. There’s nothing out there for me, there’s nothing worth going back for. I’m probably dead anyway.

So what the fuck was it all for?

“Octavia, I need you to hear something.” Her voice is quiet, cowardly now.

I whip around and yell, unable to control the volume of my voice. “What?! What else could you possibly have to say?!”

She stands up and grabs my arm, pulling me to look back at her rainbow eyes. When I turn around again, I don’t see my mom anymore. I see the face of a woman in a nurse’s outfit, yelling at me but no sounds come out of her mouth. A bright light shines behind her and my body begins to shake like an earthquake.

“Mom?”

I feel a twinge of pain behind my eyelids and my childhood home behind her begins to fade away, slowly merging into hospital walls and fluorescent lights. Pictures of our family fall off the walls and get sucked into the black hole behind it as it consumes our house bit by bit.

I watch everything crumble around us – the dinner on the stove, the snacks in the open-faced cabinets, the familiar ache of the past engulfing this place by the second.

Before the world completely fades away, her face twists and morphs into a demonic figure, its black claws wrap around my arm, but it has the voice of my mother.

“You will die trying to cure them.”

I wake up in a jolt, shooting straight up. The room is filled with doctors and nurses staring at me. My heart is racing, I’m panting and I feel wires and tubes connected to me everywhere.

I cling to the sheets, looking around the room for any escape.

You will die trying to cure them.

“I have to get out of here, they’re going to find me. They’re going to find me and kill me.”

My head spins and my anxiety spikes through the roof. I can’t fucking breathe and they’re all just looking at me. The machines beep and their tense voices all overlap, and I’m over here losing my fucking mind.

“They’re gonna…kill me… trying to fix themselves…” I’m so out of breath, I can barely speak.

The doctors rush around the room and yell at each other, nurses start grabbing random syringes, and other medical staff run forward to pin me down to the hospital bed.

You will die trying to cure them.

I have to leave, I have to run, I don’t want to die for them.

I rip off the wires connected to me, the IV stings and bleeds as I yank it out of my arm and try to shove the staff off of my tired body.

You will die trying to cure them.

No, NO!

I don’t want to die for them. I don’t want this.

I want to be free, I want to go back to my old life and just work at the stupid bar, serve drinks to my fat regulars and sleep next to my shitty boyfriend. I want to press rewind on this horrific episode of my life.

Freedom – a funny feeling that I haven’t had the pleasure of encompassing in the last two months. If I ever wake up from this never ending nightmare, I’ll surely never find it again.

“Please!” I scream and try to run out of the room, but I feel a sharp pinch on my arm and I crumble down to the tiled, white floor.

Can I just go back to when things were simple? I take it all back, I don’t want this stupid fantasy made for books anymore. I’ll give up my freedom for some normalcy – things may not have been perfect but they worked for me.

I’m selfish, aren’t I? For wanting something more?

I’m selfish for not appreciating the things I already had – a set of loving parents that I couldn’t say how I felt to, a roof over my head that kept me warm despite its moldy walls, a boyfriend who disappointed me but I could’ve married and had children with, ignoring his occasional violence.

“Please… they’re going to kill me…”

My words trail off and my vision goes black. It’s over, I’m so fucked. I’m actually so fucked.

I should’ve just settled for average. A girl like me with dead parents, bundles of emotional trauma and a screw loose, chasing a dream that could never be real?

I was unrealistic for thinking I’d ever be capable of anything more than… bland.

Werewolves, witches, curses and cures – I wouldn’t be surprised if I hallucinated the whole fucking thing and I’ve got a brain tumor or something. I live on Earth, not in some paranormal romance book where dreams come true.

I’m just a 24 year old girl looking to run from her past, waiting for her twisted Prince Charming and her kinky happily ever after.

Delusional, that’s what that is. And I’m a dumb girl for ever believing in it. A dumb, probably dead girl.

My mother’s cursing voice waits for the blackness to take over, the noises to fade and she says one last time:

You will die trying to cure them.

Yeah, I fucking get it.