𝕴𝖃 : Dubious Return To Normalcy.

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ALASKA WOKE FEELING RATHER STUPID.

Well, no, that wasn't fair... She woke feeling - initially at least - invigorated and cheerful. Her sunniness, matching the slowly blooming bright day outside, faded whilst she was in the shower; it dissipated somewhere between the chorus of Build Me Up, Buttercup and the moment that tune managed to morph itself into Here Come the Hotstepper. By the time she'd hit her fourth round of na-nanana-nananas she was practically slamming her forehead against the tiles, despairing over her actions last night, wondering what on earth had possessed her to act the way she had. Why'd she walk in directly into the forest after what happened to Vicki Donovan?

There was something in that place. Right in the heart of the forest, something so mysterious resided that Alaska couldn't even put it into verbal words. She then thought of the obsidian figure chasing her and a feeling of absolute dread coiled into her stomach. It was too reminiscent of the one of the reoccurring nightmares she had about a town by the bay with a scribbled out name where the creeks ran red and a tree drew monsters with human skin stretched over their fur and claws, wings and teeth.

Maybe, it was all in her mind. Just a landscape of her imagination. Yeah, that was it. She was stressed and traumatized after witnessing the commotion that occurred after Vicki was attacked. . . by an animal. The violent event took a toll on her.

Oh God . . . thanks to her rampant idiocy, Stefan now probably thought that she was a small-town freak from the woods who did shady business in the middle of the night. She'd all but spelled it out last night while prodding around in his company. But to her defence, Stefan did seem suspicious too. Honestly, what, in the name of all that was holy, made her do that? Why'd she directly walk into the woods? Why couldn't she stop herself? It was so unlike her. She was all about logic and lucidity. Why was she so unlike herself last night?

Pressing her face against Caroline's fogged mirror, her thoughts settled into a series of why mes on eternal repeat. Actually trying to work out the problem of reality and unreality was a hazard. Her mind posed the same questions again and again, getting back answers that were almost exactly the same - but not quite - each time. It was circuitous and painful...and, for the most part, it was fucking pointless.

The easier option was to chalk up last nights events as nothing but a bad dream. So, that's what she did.

At last, it was a subdued, again-exhausted Alaska who inhaled two bowls of Caroline's most hipster cereal, half hoping she'd choke on a chunk of quinoa and be spared the hard decision of bashing her face against the wall.

It was nearly six am, meaning Alaska had been asleep for almost three hours. Caroline was still asleep and the older Forbes woman was anywhere to be seen; she was probably at work.

There wasn't anything edible in the house that didn't come in a box and thoroughly deserve to be drowned in milk. It was expected. Sherrif Liz wasn't big on good housekeeping. It was not as if the home were dirty or messy - because it wasn't, though Alaska suspected that was more Care's doing than her mother's - it was more that the house felt empty, bereft somehow. It was too clean, too perfect, too unused.

It made her sad.

Bored and still twitchy about what occurred in the night, Alaska decided to go find the TV, something to take her mind off things until her friend woke. They kept moving around that damn thing for no reason.

What she came across instead, however, was an octave-too-wide upright piano tucked into a cubby in one of the narrow downstairs hallways. Surprised to discover the instrument, Alaska habitually tapped a few notes. Caroline must've installed it after the accident because it sure wasn’t here before. Alaska was glad to find it. She had taken piano lessons as a child. She was good at it too. But her love for photography overshadowed it to a point that she couldn't stick to it.

Alaska frowned as her fingers came away coated with dust. Giving the piano a quick wipe with the hem of her top, she settled herself down on the tiny, gold-fringed stool beneath the instrument. She wasn't pitch perfect, so it was hard to be positive, but it sounded in tune – comparing middle-C with an F, the relative shift in the sound produced was good by ear.

She wasn't sure how long it had been since she last played… A year before the accident, at least. That was far too long. Annoyingly, however, there wasn't an obvious selection of sheet music sitting nearby. Caroline learned and recalled her songs from memory, or she just made it up as she went along, divining notes from shadows of what they'd heard before. The blonde was a natural.

It was a slight disappointment to not have the challenge of playing a new piece straight from stave. Her fingers fumbled and bounced, beginning a simple I-iv-VI-V progression, which then effortlessly shifted and twisted itself into Pachelbel's Canon; the familiar piece was so ingrained in her muscle memory that she could play it three sheets to the wind whilst blindfolded. Regretfully, this ease of playing meant she had far too much room to think. Within a couple of minutes, her brain was chasing its own tail over the 'reality vs unreality' issues again.

Once she'd played the song twice over, her fingers repetitively hung on the last few notes, switching between them again and again. She needed to try a song she'd heard but never seen sheet music for. It would occupy her mind better if she had to work out chords and time signature from the only the vague memory of sound.

This turned out to be a fortuitous idea, the task eating up every inch of her concentration. She chose Your Song, it being one of her mother's favored tracks; though Alaska herself had never been particularly partial to Elton John, all that meant was that she never listened too closely to it when it was on, which should hopefully make playing it by ear a far greater challenge. In this, distraction was the aim, not enjoyability.

Like lots of popular music, the song quickly showed itself to be four-four and, after a few stops and starts, she decided it was probably meant to be played in Cb-major. Seeing as she could recall having heard any Elton John songs in the last three years at least, however, she couldn't be sure she wasn't messing it up from the start. The fact she could only half recall the lyrics, giving her that much less to base the tune off of, made it more difficult to reconstruct by far.

Alaska hummed thoughtfully as she worked, mind going over the same spans of notes again and again as she tried to replicate the tune best she could. It was low, breaking in odd places.

"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside," she mumbled to herself. "I'm not one of those who can easily hide. I don't have much money but boy if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both could live..."

Then more or less the same again...except now she couldn't recall the words at all. When she hit the chorus she stumbled, feeling the melody should rise but not quite sure how. So, in the interest of not giving it up as a bad job, she tried a few variations to see if any of them worked. After all, she knew the key – how badly could it go?

"And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It might be quite simple but, now that it's done..."

She needed to find the right note here.

"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind I put down in words… How won–"

She hit a dud note. It flatly ricocheted down the hall – making her cringe – and the whole song fell apart. She was getting it all wrong.

She tried again.

Out of a haze of summer days spent on the porch of her childhood home, reading over American classics and performing one-woman versions of Shakespeare's plays to the ducks at the pond, while her mother punched keys on her typewriter from inside the lakehouse, something closer to the correct chorus began to form and tears formed in Alaska's eyes.

It wasn't perfect. There were some important elements missing and the grace notes she put in shifted the whole song away from what it should be. But it reminded her of her mom.

Alaska stopped for a second, then shook off the tears, concentrating on the music. She was very good at remembering what she read, and replicating something wasn't usually this much of a struggle; the problem lay in that, though her mind tended to take down a general tune when she heard a song, it didn't seem to bother paying the same level of attention to octave.

She was over the crest of the chorus, navigating her way through a part of the theoretical second verse that urged her to speed up a little and almost crescendo…

          Then a horrible reminder of her fight with Bonnie wormed its way up from the pool of swirling notes and distorted lyrics.

Alaska thought of the series of scathing words she threw at her friend, some of which were plain cruel and unfair, and gave up all pretense of playing the piano. She thought of the distraught look on her friend's face and her head flopped down onto the keys below, doing a very loud, dissonant version of the classic head meets desk.

"Fuck," Alaska whispered. "Fuck fuck fuc–"

"It wasn't that bad. Sounded pretty good, actually."

Alaska's head shot up and her body twisted so violently, to see who'd come into the hall, she managed to pitch herself and the stool right over. The two of them hit the floor at a funny angle. She heard one of the stool's legs splinter microseconds before her head cracked into the wall behind, catapulting blinding white light across her vision and leaving a sharp, lancing pain piercing the outer edge of her right eye.

"Oh gosh!" Caroline exclaimed, rushing forward.

Worried blue eyes entered Alaska's field of vision. For a moment the situation felt incredibly familiar, though she wasn't sure why... and then bobbing blond curls came into focus and the ghost of whatever caused the deja vu – whatever memory was almost but never made – slipped away.

Squinting up at her friend, she groaned, letting out a heaving breath somewhere between a dismayed sigh and gasp of pain.

The other girl helped her up. Looking down at the delicate piano stool, Alaska saw one of the legs was snapped almost clean off.

"Care, I'm sorry…"

"For what, falling over?"

"No – the stool," Alaska corrected, gesturing down at it weakly.

Caroline's gaze followed her hand. The girl's brow furrowed a little as she saw what Alaska was talking about.

"Oh, don't worry," she said flatly. "It's not like it was an antique or anything."

"Shit, was it? God, I'm sorry – you made me jump."

"No really, it's fine. I mean, it is an antique, but it's my dad's." Judging by her tone, she really didn't care. "Why were you all–" she waved her hands around in a funny way apparently meant to indicate Alaska's face smooshed into the piano "–anyway?"

"I just… I had a shitty thought, remembered something, is all."

"Want to talk about it?"

Alaska shook her head tiredly, still a bit dizzy from her tumble. "No, I...I just think I'm going to head home.

Caroline's eyes softened. "You were thinking about Bonnie. Weren't you?"

Alaska let out a long sigh at that. You see, she was a fairly patient person who rarely acted on impulse. Alaska always thought, she stopped, she weighed before jumping to conclusions. So, being harsh only happened when Alaska's empathy centre was somewhat offline. That was when was out of line, out of character and out of order. That was when she ever bothered to apologise.

But Alaska knew that in this scenario she wasn't wrong. At all.

But nonetheless, it was Bonnie and perhaps she should've handled the situation with much tact instead of being carried over by emotions. It was probably her friend's apathy and irritated stance that set her off.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I love you for defending me, Allie. I do," Caroline said softly, cobalt blue eyes full of clear sincerity and warmth. "But don't ruin your friendship with her because of me."

Alaska reached out and grabbed Caroline's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don’t worry. I will talk to her."

As they gathered up Alaska's things Caroline confessed, "It was nice having someone here, Allie. Mom's not really been about much since. ."

Alaska slung her bag on her shoulder and turned to her "Since your dad?"

"Yeah. And I– Well, you and I kind of drifted apart after you..." Caroline trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right words.

"Nearly kicked the bucket?" Alaska offered, humorously.

Caroline winced at the wording. "Well, what am I supposed to say? 'Before your parents went and drove their car over the Wickery Bridge, nearly killing you and your sister too'?"

Something tugged inside Alaska, like her heart had tripped on a wire.

"Well, you do blurt out things like that sometimes," Alaska forced herself to joke, ignoring the sharp sting of pain in her head at the mention of the bridge. "That's pretty much what I'd expect you to say, Caroline – not like I'd've been offended. Fact's fact, sugar-coating won't do a lick of good."

Caroline cocked her head to the side, studying her, the faint sunlight falling on the brunette's frame made it look like she had a halo over her head. "I don't know how you do it."

Alaska frowed. "Do what?"

"Everything?" A beat passed. "When Dad cut and ran, I was a wreck for months, and he's only out east. And you literally lost your parents forever. It's so fresh and yet you manage. . ." Caroline continued. "You just manage everything. You take care of everything and everyone and you make it look like it's nothing. How do you do it?"

I lie, Alaska thought. I am a liar. I truly am. I tell white lies as easily as tell the time. I tell of a pristine life dusted in white gold and plated in silver. I tell intricate stories for a few seconds of satisfaction-- hollow stories for hollow laughs. Fair exchange, right? It’s taxing but it’s my duty. At least, my loved ones are safe. At least, they're safe from the rot that had started to take place in the crevices of her heart. I'll bear it. I'll bear it as long as I can.

Alaska didn’t say those words to her friend though. She laughed shortly. "If you think I'm managing everything, you should come and take a look at Jeremy someday. He's falling apart."

Caroline shook her head earnestly. "No, he's not. He's just hurt and lost. You can always guide him back home."

Alaska considered this. "Maybe." she turned to the blonde with a weak smile then. "Look, Care. . what's done's done, nothing can change it. They're gone. I got out, Elena got out – our parents wouldn't've wanted us miserable, would they? I have to do this for them. Our lives've been ripped apart here, and I need some sense of normalcy… School, friends, family – that's what's normal to me, okay?"

"You just make it look effortless."

Alaska smiled at the irony. "I must put on a hell of a good show, I suppose."

WHEN ALASKA ARRIVED AT HER HOUSE, golden rays of sunshine were already in through little crevices between the buildings around the neighbourhood. It was a fairly large house with a broad porch out front, and a grassy yard dotted with little yellow stars. There were country rose bushes in the formal flower beds, surrounded by sweet-smelling air. Clematis ran up trellis attached to one side of the building, and a large beech tree cast a shifting knot of shadows across half the property.

Home. The sentiment pounded into Alaska's ribs in tandem of her heartbeat as she got off her bike and stared up at her house. Home, and yet felt all sorts of wrong without their presence.

Alaska toed her shoes off at the front door, too used to her mother's rule of 'no shoes in the house' to break the habit. The wooden floors were smooth and slightly warm on her soles and there was a massive rug covering most of the floorspace in the living room, stretching right out under the sofas. Judging by the silence that reigned in the air, it was evident that her family was fast asleep. As Alaska climbed up the stairs leading to her room, her eyes swept over the family photos littering the walls. She wondered what her parents would think of the techniques she'd embraced while trying to handle the strain.

There was something about being possessed by your own aimlessness that turned you into a strange creature.

Her mother always said that humans emotionally appointed the ones they loved to certain positions in their inner landscapes, yet were they ever asked if that was a role they could deliver on? At times, they created their own disappointments - or rather their dis-appointment from those emotional roles they were assigned. Other times they took on a commitment they could not meet for reasons beyond their control.

For the last seventeen years of Alaska's life, if there was anything she was really afraid of ; it was disappointing people. Disappointing her parents, to be precise. As the children of perfectionists Miranda and Grayson Gilbert, many things were expected from the siblings trio. Legacies to live out, carry on.

School of Athens by Rafael was a gift given by her father on her 13th birthday. It hung on the wall of her bedroom. Her father was so passionate about it that Alaska could tell the faces apart in that painting. He told his daughter that if she were to position herself among some of the greatest minds the world had ever known, it would be in the middle of it all. In the eye of the hurricane, so to speak. Not only for superior knowledge, but also because she was constantly gazed open. A phenomena amongst men, eternally under surveillance.

God made you beautiful so you can be great, Alaska, that's what her father used to say.

Alaska could feel the pressure of the void now. The black hole in her head, deep inside her soul, slowly swallowing all her hopes, dreams and an intricate veil she covered herself in. That was the worst of those moments. The realization of the vacuum, the nothingness, the absurd of her existence. Those times kept her awake at midnight and made her wonder; What am I living for anyway?

Maybe for me. Maybe for others. Did it really matter?

She didn’t know. For now, she was determined to survive and conquere in this dog-eat-dog world and get some tasks done by the end of the day.

After taking another warm shower and changing into more presentable clothes. She took off for the kitchen and prepared sandwiches and coffee. Leaving a portion of the food for her siblings and her aunt, Alaska packed the rest in boxes, carefully pouring the coffee in a thermos. She finished her breakfast in the living room with the news of rampant animal attacks being ominously played in the background. When Alaska got back to the kitchen to grab her backpack, she was suprised to find Jeremy visibly slumped at a breakfast bar, nursing the coffee Alaska made a few minutes ago. He looked worn out but lighter in the shoulders than usual. His didn’t move when Alaska walked in, but he looked like he was caught off guard. He couldn’t maintain eye-contact. He looked guilty.

She could see it now, the puffiness in his eyes, the way his fists were clenched in on themselves. His sclera was pink, like he was recovering from a nasty case of conjunctivitis, and she could smell the weed on his clothes even across the room. Alaska's eyes darted towards his backpack that slung the stool next to him. But it was not even 7:30.

"Skipping school?" Alaska asked, her voice even, careful not to poke the bear

Jeremy looked down at his hands, his ears turning pink in apparent embarrassment. "I uh..."

"You have all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, Jeremy." Alaska chuckled, careful to keep any element of judgment out of her tone. "Relax, I'm going to the hospital, too."

She then passed him a sandwich, offering a slight smile with it. Because she couldn't bear the way he was looking at her. All remorseful and childlike. "Finish this and then we can go there together," her voice was gentle when she continued. "It's a fifteen minute walk anyway."

Jeremy stared at her for a second then took the sandwich. "Okay." he acquiesced finally.

Jeremy didn’t speak a word on their whole walk to the hospital. He was deadly quiet. But Alaska could feel an impending apology hanging in the air between them. She didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already was. So, she kept her mouth shut. That wasn't to say there was a void between the two of them, or that the walk was socially unpleasant – there just didn't seem to be a need to say anything.

Wordlessly, they entered the hospital and walked through the halls. The smell of disinfectant burned the brunette's nostrils. The floor was slate grey and the walls dove. Above the ceiling was made from those polystyrene squares laid on a grid-like frame. The light was too bright for her eyes. Alaska found it abrasive, enough perhaps to bring on one of her migraines. There were familiar commercial prints on the wall, tasteful in the dull kind of way. Alaska grimaced, trying to block out the memories of her own stay in here.

But it was as if she could see everything playing out before her again. Slowly words filtered through the fog surrounding her mind.

Autopsy... worst case... dead.. prepare..

Alaska could feel something piercing her heart, a terrible certainty not letting her sink. The water holding her felt real, forged from the remnants of a dream, that was itself pieced together from a memory.

When Alaska blinked the images away she could feel the drying salt of tears on her cheeks. The brunette let out a shaky breath, realizing she had stopped walking. Jeremy was staring at her. His eyes looked haunted. Far too haunted for a boy his age.

Alaska cleared her throat and looked away, her grip tightening on her backpack. "Matt said Vicki's in 403. You go ahead. I'm gonna meet him at the lobby."

He looked unsure of how to respond, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably before giving her a sheepish response. "Okay."

Nodding, Alaska stepped away from him. Just when she was about to turn the corner, Jeremy's urgent voice rang out behind her.

"Alaska, wait!"

Alaska paused in her steps, turning to to her brother with raised eyebrows, who looked at her with the subtly self-conscious way he had, when he become a little too aware of himself. "Listen, last night— what I said. I didn’t—" Jeremy swallowed a breath, trying to hide the nervous tremor in his voice. But it wasn’t working. His words were damming themselves up behind his gritted teeth, unsuccessful at keeping his emotions at bay. "I—I didn’t mean. . ."

The earnestness in his voice was, frankly, almost, nauseating. Alaska could feel it, he wanted the everything to be better so bad but he was just a kid. Something in her chest was aching. Aching like she was being squeezed to death. Like someone had  taken a hammer to her ribs.

I didn’t mean what I said. I'm sorry. I love you.

The words rang out, silent as a ruin. But Alaska could hear it anyway. He didn’t need to speak. Gently, she reached out to brush some of the stray hair from Jeremy's forehead and smiled, soft and kind. "I know, Jer. I know."

For the first time in months, Alaska swore she saw her little brother's mouth curve into a tiny, genuine, smile.

THE FIRST THING ALASKA DID WHEN SHE SAW MATT WAS sweep him up in a hug, a gesture he gratefully returned. They stayed like that for a bit and when he pulled away, she noticed how terrible he looked. All worn out – dark circles below his eyes and ratty hair.

"You look like absolute shit." Alaska observed before they both sat down on the conjoined chairs at the lobby. "Didn't get any sleep last night?"

"No," Matt rubbed his eyes with a tired groan, his voice coming out hoarse. "Nurses were in and out constantly and I didn't really want to leave her side."

Nodding in understanding, Alaska passed him the bag that contained the food she prepared in the morning. "I brought you something."

Matt's blue eyes slightly widened when he saw the contents. "Food? Gosh! You brought coffee too!" He gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Allie. Hospital food was driving me nuts."

"Oh, I know. Believe me," Alaska grimaced, remembering her own experience around here. "How's your sister now?"

Matt let out a long exhale as he took a bite of the sandwich. "She is asleep right now, they gave her a drug to help her sleep while she recovers. I think, they plan to keep her overnight to make sure there's no infection," he explained, "but she should be able to come home tomorrow."

"That's some good news. Did you get in touch with your mom?"

Matt sighed at that. Kelly was not the best parent around. She was absent most of the time, could never hold down a job, when she did she made a point of doing something that'd eventually fuck things up. Matt's been basically the main bill payer since the day he was old enough to work. It was too much. But he'd never let it show.

"Called and left a message. She's in Virginia Beach with her boyfriend, so … we'll see how long it takes her to come rushing home."

"Mom of the year," Alaska's voice dripped with sarcasm sarcastically.

"Tell me about it," he grumbled.

"Well, I'm glad that your sister's alright. Seriously," Alaska said honestly, putting aside her personal grudge against the girl. "It looked really bad."

"Yeah," Matt agreed despondently, "and now there's talk of some missing campers."

"Apparently there's a homicidal maniac on the loose," Alaska tried to sound casual but she could feel the thumping patter of her heart stutter- "...A homicidal maniac coyote or whatever, that is." she paused "Speaking of which, did she say what kind of animal it was that attacked her?”

The boy seemed to be contemplating whether to answer the question or not.

"Matt?" Alaska frowned in worry.

"She said it was a vampire."

Alaska's blood ran cold. She could feel her heart flutter in her chest like a frightened rabbit's. "What?" she whispered.

"Yeah, she wakes up last night and mutters 'vampire' and then passes out," Matt's tone suggested it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "She was just drunk, Allie. Don't worry about it."

"Of course," Alaska nodded slowly, trying her best to believe her own words. But there was unexplainable discomfort in her chest, a feeling in her brain like excess caffeine... then it set in deeper. She felt the urge to run, escape, hide. The feeling left her biting her tongue until blood pooled in her mouth, and the tang of iron became a constant hint in her breath.

author's note : i had originally written a chapter where alaska reads jeremy to filth cause she was so pissed at him but then had to erase the whole thing cause that's just not her lmao. next chapter’s gonna be long and eventful! hope yall liked this one! <3

love, audrey!