Chapter 4

Elena.

Deep down I was tired of crying, but my body would not allow me to stop. Every time I was about to shut up, my heart would feel tight, my throat would choke, and the cycle would start again.

The two of us sat there for twenty minutes, him trying to calm me down while I continued to bawl. In the end, there were no more tears, and we just sat in silence. Once he knew that I was done crying, he pulled away, taking my hand.

"What happened Elena?" He asked, his voice shaking. Zayn is much more protective than he admits, and he can also be very empathetic. Even so, I had never seen him like this. Never so... distraught.

My hand moved to my face to try and wipe away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. Delicate curls clung to the wet spots.

"I knew something was wrong, I could feel it," I started to say, but I started crying again. "Maxine said he would not reject me, Maxine said that-,"

Really, I was not an overly confident person, but I liked to believe that I was a nice person. I have friends, my appearance is quite attractive, and I can always make others smile. There was never a time when I disliked myself, or put myself down. My feelings now, however, were certainly in that direction.

It felt so wrong for me to pick myself apart, trying to find anything that could be considered undesirable about myself. But there must be something that he does not like. There must be a reason for him to reject me instantly, to reject the person he should love the most. The person who was made for him.

"Your mate rejected you?" Zayn asked me slowly while contemplating it. He was having trouble accepting that the little sister he loved so much was completely rejected from the one thing in a werewolf's life that they craved the most. I was speechless, as I covered my face with both of my hands. My silence seemed to confirm that for him.

Anger radiated from him, but he tried to hide it as he pulled me towards him, embracing me in a tight hug. He did not say anything for a few minutes, he just adjusted his breathing and rubbed my back. We only parted when we heard the garage door open, signaling that my father was home.

"El," he asked as soon as we broke apart. "Who is it?"

The question was simple and obvious, yet I could not answer it. I turned my face away from him, my mind in conflict with what I wanted to do. I knew that if I told him who it was, he would walk out of the house until he found the person and slammed his face into the wall. For some reason, I did not have the heart to tell him, to let others know my secret. I just wanted to grieve alone, without anyone asking questions.

I just shook my head, hoping he would not press further. He sighed, but let it go. Standing up, he kissed my head quickly and started walking to the door.

"Kids, what do you want for dinner?" My father's booming voice echoed throughout the house. Zayn answered for me, leaving my room.

Then I lay back down on my bed, breathing out slowly as the tingling ran up and down my legs. Even though I had slept for hours, there was still a slight pain in my chest. Rubbing my eyes, I decided it was better to go downstairs rather than shut myself up in my room.

I quickly fixed my appearance in the mirror before heading downstairs. Once I reached the downstairs room, I was greeted with a puff of smoke. My mom was chopping tomatoes in the kitchen, which was located to the right of the stairs, which separated the kitchen from the dining table. Meanwhile, my father was staring intently at the pasta noodles, and if he had a bit of cooking ability, he would have known that the noodles wouldn't burn.

Across the stairs was the front door, and on the left was the living room. Then I walked over to the sofa furthest from the door and plopped down on it.

My parents did not know that I was upset yet, but my brother's eyes remained glued to me as he set the dining table. I guess he was waiting for me to start crying once again, as I had done several times today. I fiddled with my necklace, which was made of a faux silver chain with a ring on the end. I squeezed the ring in my palm until it left a mark on my skin, before letting it fall through my nimble fingers.

As I stared at the wall, suddenly I heard a man's voice in the distance. I turned my gaze towards the window next to the dining table, my whole body shivering. No one else seemed to be curious about the voice.

I stood up from the soft couch, my curiosity getting the better of me and I walked towards the window. Long, thick white curtains hung in front of the window, protecting it from the afternoon sun. I could see the soft, yet retreating light from the other side.

Wrapping my hands around the thin cotton curtains, I paused for a moment before pulling them open. I blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted before my breath caught in my throat.

There, standing with his arms crossed, was Mr. Lockwood. He stood beside a large moving truck, talking to a man carrying a whiteboard. His brow was furrowed, and he wore glasses that made him more attractive than ever. Another man came out of the house next to him, and as I squinted at him, he walked up to Mr. Lockwood.

"Mom, did that person move into the house next door?" I asked while looking away from the window. The answer was obvious, but I still did not want to believe it. My mother stopped her conversation with my father to look at me.

She smiled sweetly as she nodded. "Yes, dear, that nice man moved in next door. He came to say hello last night when you were out with your friends, but he could not move in until today."

All at once my whole world seemed to crumble bit by bit. He who had taken my soul and shattered it into a million pieces, and now he was mocking me by living next door. Isn't fate playing a joke on me? I laughed scornfully.

"O- Oh..." I said quietly, looking out the window once more. Mr. Lockwood was taking a box from one of the younger movers, who was clearly having a hard time. My eyes naturally fell on his biceps, which looked toned in his button-down shirt. It was the same shirt he was wearing this morning, as I recall.

"Oh yeah, El, we're having dinner with him tomorrow, so you can't go with your friends," my mom said, before tasting the steaming tomato sauce.

"What!"

My day was only going to get worse. I looked out the window, and then back at my mom with a freaked-out expression.

"Mom, what if he was a serial killer - would you let a serial killer into your house?"

My mom rolled her eyes at me, running her hands over her apron lightly as if to dust it off.

"He is not a serial killer, Elena, and I don't know why you are so against it. I know you want to go out and visit your friends, but sometimes there are more important things," she said. "Besides, it's important that our neighbors like us-"

"No, no," I whined, crossing my arms.

"This is the end of the discussion, Elena," she said firmly, giving me a motherly look before returning her gaze to the cutting board.

Dinner went quickly, and before long I was back in my room, wrapped in a pile of blankets. I had no idea what to do, but I could still feel the pain radiating in my chest, nagging me to do something.

Taking out my phone, I finally decided to look at the messages from my friends. They were both worried, which meant they were both sending me very sweet and threatening messages. Whatever was in their book, that was all that mattered.

Then I put them on a group call and called them, and I was surprised when it only took a few seconds before they answered.

"El, why the hell didn't you say something before you left, we were worried, you know!" Jane scolded, her motherly voice coming out.

Sitting in the chair, I tried to think of what to say. I hated lying to my friends, but I was not sure that I was ready to tell them about Killian.

"I suddenly did not feel well, and Mr. Lockwood saw and told me to go home," I groaned, twirling my hair in my fingers as I chose my words.

Silence fell over the speakers, no one spoke for a few seconds before Jane's voice came back. I knew they didn't believe me, but they both knew not to push it any further.

"Okay Elena, I will give you your bag tomorrow when you get to school," Jane said slowly.

Before Jane could say anything else, her mother's loud voice came over the phone, calling for her to come downstairs. She sighed, shouted that she would be right there, and then said goodbye to us.

She quickly left, leaving me and Sasha alone. Sasha, who had been silent, finally decided to say something.

"You know, you can say anything to us... we will listen."

I closed my eyes, my jaw twitching.

"I know."