Torn

Chapter 2 ✓

Carter

Memories float through my mind of my past friendship with the guys. Sweet and shy, Xander. His hair so black it almost looked blue. His piercing, ice blue eyes. The fearless bad-boy that was, Quinn. His brown hair a soft, tussled mess at any given time. His grey eyes that could look straight into your soul.

The naughtiness of last nights dream still has my heart pounding with anticipation. I shake my head, pushing the thoughts back once more. Now that I know I have no choice but to go back to Spiritwood, I begin to feel the familiar panic building up.

Nine years ago, I had disappeared without a word, and they haven't seen or heard from me since. I wasn't allowed to say goodbye; my parents had taken that away from me and forbid me from ever trying to contacting them, but they don't know that. I'm sure that to Quinn and Xander, I just up and left right when things had gotten tough between us.

Over the years, both my mom and my dad drilled it into me that it wasn't safe for me to talk to anyone from my past. I was told that not only was it dangerous for me, but it was for Quinn and Xander too. Even my grandpa. Dad always liked to remind me during my moments of loneliness, that while we had escaped the dangers that remained in Spiritwood, my friends had not and staying connected with me would be putting them at risk.

What is this so-called danger that my father always spoke of? Truthfully, I only had a vague idea. It was on a need-to-know basis and other than one conversation my parents had with me; I wasn't considered "need to know".

I had fought my parents on it so many times before they died but it was always to no avail. I followed through only on the fact that I was terrified at the thought of something happening to my friends. If anything had happened to them and it was because of something I had done or said, I would never have forgiven myself. So, I did what I had to. I stayed away.

Is it safe now? Would coming back to deal with my grandfather's estate be dangerous for everyone now? It's been so long since I had left all of this behind that I truly have no idea if the danger still existed. My stomach sinks at the thought of running into them, or of having to explain myself. Thoughts of my childhood flash like lightning behind my eyes, causing a heat to flush my skin.

My dream last night was so similar to how we used to play in the old wood behind grandpa's cabin. Always ducking to hide behind the trunk of a big cedar tree with my hand covering my mouth to try and muffle the sounds of my breathing. Hiding, albeit poorly, from the two boys chasing me. They liked the chase, and as for me, I liked it too if it meant they were chasing after me.

As kids, I had always craved their attention, I had needed to see that look in their eyes as they watched me, like they were the predator, and I was their prey. The calculating way they would sit back and watch me flee from them and then analyze what was the quickest and most efficient way to catch me, it was a physical sensation that rushed over my body when I knew their eyes were on me. I was addicted and the need I had for them was overwhelming.

My memory shifted to us running and jumping into a hidden, natural pool of water that only the three of us seemed to know about. The number of hours in the day that we had spent in that clearing was ungodly. Afterwards we would race each other back through the woods to my grandpas' cabin for sandwiches and lemonade. I won. Every time. I was sure that they let me win, but my pride would never allow me to admit that.

Every thought that passed seems to include just the three of us. The Three Musketeers my grandpa used to call us. Every day until I was sixteen and they were seventeen, from sunup to sundown we were together.

Memory after memory plays through my mind, changing bit by bit as the years passed. Young boys turning into teenagers. Play banter turning into shameless flirting. Games turning into rivalry for my attention. Frustration building within our friendship as the tension between us began to blossom.