Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As I slowly, but surely regain consciousness, I vaguely realize that I am in a bed. I open my eyes, but I don't immediately recognize the surroundings. Frightened, I look around, then it dawns on me that I am in my old bedroom. Memories of what happened earlier starting to come back. Different feelings rush through my body. Shock, anger, sadness. As my eyes fill with tears at the emptiness I feel from losing Brent, I think of Claire. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and want to get up. As soon as I stand up, I feel light-headed. That must be because of the narcotic Alex hit me with—asshole.

When the dizziness in my head goes away, I make another attempt to get up. This time, I make sure to do it slowly. I carefully walk to the door on the other side of the room.

Contrary to all my expectations, it is open. I stick my head out. There is no one to be seen. I quietly close the door and walk to my old desk, where I saw my phone. When I look at the time, I see that it is just after dinner time. At least then, I wasn't unconscious for long.

I scroll through the gallery on my phone. When I see the different photos of and with Brent, I can no longer contain myself. “I'm so sorry,” I whimper as I continue swiping.

My Brent, my soulmate, the love of my life, and the father of my child. Dead. Murdered by my father. My sadness gives way to anger, and my phone vibrates in my hand. I don't know how yet, but he will pay for this. And Alex, too. Iwill find a way to avenge Brent, even if only for Claire, because she now has to grow up without a father.

"What am I supposed to do next? How am I supposed to raise Claire alone?" I murmur.

“Oh honey, you don't have to do it alone.” I hear my mother say. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't hear her come in. She looks at me sadly from the doorway. I can only glare at her. She knew. She knew it, and she didn't do anything to stop them. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't want this." She says softly, looking at me sadly. But her words and look mean nothing to me.

"Where's Claire?" I ask, trying to hide my anger and envy. But judging by the look on my mother's face, I'm failing at that. "Give yourself some time to recover first, sweetheart." She says, avoiding my question. "Where. Is. Claire?" I ask, my jaw clenched as I walk menacingly towards her. She takes a step back, startled. Logically, she has never seen me so angry. Maybe she thinks I'm just like Brent.

"She...She's downstairs." My mother finally says as I get even closer. I walk past her in silence.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the living room is deserted when I arrive. Claire claps her hands happily when they see me. I can't do anything but smile at her cute face that is smiling at me from the playpen. I plant a kiss on both her cheeks. Then I start frantically gathering all her things together.

"Lilly, honey," My mother says. "You don't have to leave right away." I pay no attention to her and move on until I'm sure I have everything. Or at least the most important stuff. And if I forget something, I'll buy it again. I don't plan on ever coming back here.

“Lilly.” My mother tries again; her voice sounds broken. When I look at her, I see that her face is wet with tears.

I keep my jaw tight. Afraid that if I say something, I won't be able to contain myself anymore. I lift Claire out of the playpen, and as if she senses my need, she wraps her chubby baby arms around my neck. Without another word or looking back, I walk out the door and strap Claire into her car seat. When I drive away, I see my mother standing at the front door.

Along the way, Claire starts babbling happily in her baby language as if nothing is wrong. I look at her from the rearview mirror. I just manage to get the car safely to the side of the road before I start crying uncontrollably. The sight of Claire's sweet smile and her bright blue eyes broke me. She looks so much like her father. Now that we're out of the lion's den, I can't keep myself up anymore. The car gives me an oppressive feeling, and I get out. Through the windows, I see Claire watching me intently.

After literally screaming out my anger and sadness, I try to pick myself up. I dry my face with my shirt and get back in the car.

I have to be strong for Claire. I repeat it like a mantra in my head the entire drive home.

As soon as we get home I prepare Claire her last bottle before it's time for her to go to sleep. I do everything on autopilot. While Claire snuggles in my arms and quietly drinks a bottle, I try not to think too much. Afraid that I can't control my emotions. My stomach is growling, but my appetite is nowhere to be found.

I stay at Claire's bedside, and she looks at me questioningly. Of course, she doesn't understand it. We usually get out of her room pretty quickly, so she isn't distracted too much. But now, I can't bring myself to walk away with the prospect of being alone. After a few minutes, I managed to convince myself to walk away.

As if numb, I throw myself onto the couch, no idea what to do next. I stare at the phone in my hand. Should I call his parents? Even though we rarely speak to them, they have the right to know that their son is dead. But what can I say? The truth? I don't know if I can handle that. And it would only add fuel to the fire regarding their disgust for humans. Would they take Claire away from me because she's a wolf and I'm not? Maybe it's better not to say anything?

My thoughts keep going from one scenario to the next. Every thought only raises more questions. I also have no idea what Brent would want. This isn't exactly something we've talked about.

My stomach starts to growl more and more. I really need to eat something. I trudge to the kitchen to see if there are any leftovers in the refrigerator. Brent was always the one who made dinner. I have never been able to cook well. For some reason, I let everything burn, or it doesn't taste like anything because I add no or too little spices.

Fortunately, there are still several containers with leftovers. I heat one up and put the rest in the freezer. At least I don't have to worry about that in the coming days.

Even though it smells wonderful, I still have no appetite. I force myself to eat at least half so that the feeling of hunger goes away.

During dinner, I turn on the TV, I try to distract myself with the series I started this afternoon, but I can't understand what is happening. My thoughts keep wandering, and after fifteen minutes, I turn off the TV again.

Even though it's still early, I go to bed anyway. I have no idea what else I should do. Maybe when I've slept, I can think a little more clearly.

When I lie in bed and smell his scent around me, I feel the tears well up again. I surrender to it and hug his pillow.

I have no idea how long I lay crying against his pillow, smelling his scent, but eventually, I fall asleep.

I feel like I've been asleep for just a few minutes when I'm woken up by Claire's babbling. Groaning, I look at the alarm clock. To my surprise, it is already 8 o'clock. I blink a few times to make sure I read it correctly. Claire usually wakes up much earlier, around 7:00 am. I rub the sleep from my eyes and drag myself out of bed.

Before I get Claire out of bed, I get dressed and wash my face.

"Good morning, sunshine," I greet her as I walk into her room. She looks at me with a broad smile. She extends her arms towards me. After I change her diaper, I take her downstairs, we'll get dressed later, but first, make sure she can drink her bottle.

Claire is quietly playing in the box while I try to write down everything I need to do. Who should I call, what is involved in arranging a funeral? I have to consult Google because I have no idea. My heart sinks when I find a list.

Because I can't bear to speak to my father or Alex, I text my mother and demand that they make sure Brent comes home today. Because I have no idea what needs to be arranged first, I just start at the top of the list.

I'm just on the phone with the funeral director when Claire starts whining, a sign that she wants attention. We quickly arrange a time for her to come by, and she promises to help me with everything. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I hang up with a feeling of relief. It's nice to know that I don’t have to do it alone.