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Pack Boys

Everything started so innocently, a simple bonfire upon the beach, but then things got complicated. Lives were changed and hearts were shocked... (A La Push gang Fan fiction) Image Hosted by ImageShack.usChapter 25 is out!!!

We had a little too much fun with the packs valentine's day one shot, so we decided to make it into a whole story!

22. Make Peace with an empty town

Rating 3.4/5   Word Count 4068   Review this Chapter

I sat on top of the hood of Embry's car, holding my head in my hands. Paul stood uneasily next to me; when he had attempted to comfort me moments before, I had pushed away his hands. I didn't need to be comforted; I just need to cry this out.

My relationship with my parents had always been….strained. They both worked long hours. I had been a lock and key kid since I was old enough to walk home alone, which was around 3rd grade. Before that it was babysitters. They would bring me home, make me dinner, play with me, and tuck me into bed. If I hadn't seen them on weekends between soccer games and conference calls, I would have sworn that I was an orphan.

The last few years, I would see them for dinner and occasionally when they entertained at home. To be honest, the only time my parents really paid attention to me was because of grades or over who I was hanging with. Grades had never been a problem, I was a straight A student taking multiple AP. classes. The last year or so, however, our non-existent relationship had turned into only yelling matches. They disapproved of my choice of friends, of boys, or of how I spent my evenings.

It wasn't that I drank or did drugs. I had friends who did, and would be at some of those parties, but I was straight edge. Heck, I was even a member of L.M.T.I.(Lindsey Meyer Teen Institute, its against drinking, drugs and about learning how to get natural highs) But that hadn't stopped them from not believing me. I guess I should have expected this to come eventually. My other misadventures had caused bad reactions; this one though, just hurt me a lot more. They didn't want me. I had lost my family. Actually, on second thought, I was gaining a better one.

I had finally run out of tears to cry with. I wiped my cheeks free of tears with the back of my hands. "I'm okay now," I said. I slid off the hood, and stood up. He gave me a crazy look. "Seriously, I'm fine now." I held my hands open, as if under inspection. Paul laughed. I went slightly forward and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. I felt his warm arms encompass me.

"I know this might be the wrong time, but I really need to ask you something." I looked up at him,

"What is it?" He pulled out of my arms, and took a step away. I watched in confusion, until he went down on one knee. "Oh My God." The words escaped my mouth on the edge of a breath.

"Abby, I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, I want to be bond to you in every way possible. The only perfect moment I have ever known, was the first time I saw you. Will you marry me?"

"Yes." I said a smile growing on my features. "Yes, yes, yes, hell yes." A huge grin spread across the Paul's face, he swept me up in his arms and twirled me around. When he finally put me back down on the ground, he slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ring. He glided it onto my finger.

I looked down and gasped in awe. It was a gorgeous ring, it wasn't a classical look, but it was breath taking. It was a two tone with yellow and white gold. There was diamonds on the band and in a central grouping. It had the air of being vintage about it. "It's gorgeous," I smiled, "When did you even have a chance to buy it?"

"I got it for you the same day that you left," he said, staring directly into my eyes. I didn't say any thing; I just hooked my arms around his neck and kissed him. The damp green world faded away as I stood there my body pressed against Paul, our lips locked. I was kissing my Fiancé.

"Well, it seems that she is feeling better."

Startled by the voices, I pulled back from Paul and bewilderedly searched for who had spoken. I saw Embry and Mashaal standing outside the door of the police station. Embry was just smirking at us, a knowing look on his face, while Mashaal was….well lets just say she was being Mashaal.

"Mashaal, we're engaged." I swore that Mashaal literally screamed when she heard that.

"Oh my god, that's terrific, it's so perfect, let me see the ring." She kept babbling on and on as she rushed over to me and enveloped me in a hug. She grabbed my hand and began to examine the ring that was sitting on it, oohhhing and aaahhhing over the sparkling crystals.

"Abby, do you know what this means?" Mashaal asked "You mean besides the fact that I'm now getting married?" I asked, gripping my other hand around Paul's. I refused to let go of him, at least since I knew he was bound to me in a way. I though the words again, Fiancé, Engaged, Married. I glanced up and I noticed that Embry was congratulating Paul, most likely talking to him about the bachelor party or something.

"Well, yes, besides that fact. You and I get to go SHOPPING!" She practically screamed at me, jumping up and down like a little kid who was told they were going to a candy store. I took a step back at her outburst.


"Yes!" I swore I never did understand her twisted logic, or unpredictable train of thought.

"Oh my gosh, it's gonna be awesome. And amazing. And wonderful. We have to plan everything! Where? And When? And Who will be there?" I bet she was already planning the entire wedding in her head, down to the I do's.

"Mashaal, calm down, reality check."

"What colors do you want? Oh the bouquets! Oh what? Abby we don't have time to calm down!"

"First things first, what is going on with your parents...." The fact that we were still standing outside the police station had somehow escaped her notice.

"Oh..." The bubble instantly deflated inside of her.

"Yeah." I said. "Do we have to talk about them?" Mashaal rolled her eyes and sighed. I gave her a look.

"You'll have to tell me eventually anyway."

"Well...They're just being...them...you know. They're apparently coming out tonight on the next plane to Washington..."

"WHAT?" A very irate and scared Embry exclaimed. Paul just laughed.

"Looks like you're gonna be meeting the in-laws." He said, elbowing Embry jestingly in the side.

"Hopefully you can explain everything to them." I said, turning back to Mashaal.

"Hopefully?" She said her eyes wide and doe like, as if she were a deer caught in the headlights of a car. "Most likely they'll try to drag me home...limb by limb..."

"I would love to be there to help you, but I have until Friday to move out at home, so I think I should probably go to Jersey soon and pack." It seemed like neither of us was going to have a very happy week.

"Geez. Parents officially suck."

"You're preaching to the choir on that one." I agreed. I hugged Mashaal tightly. "I'll see you soon." I whispered.

The cheap fuzz of commercial airline seats scratched at the back of my neck as I tried to lean back. The take off had been hard. My stomach still hadn't forgiven me for it, and it was an hour into the flight. Paul was squashed rather uncomfortably into the seat next to me. The kid sitting behind him was kicking his chair, and the lady in front of him had reclined her chair into his knees.

"Do you want to switch seats?" I asked Paul for the hundredth time.

"NO", kick, "I'm Fine." He grimaced, his words sounding more like a growl then English.

I didn't believe him. I sighed, he was too stubborn. He was obstinate and infuriating, and short tempered, but that made me love him all the more. I decided to take a different approach.

"It's going to be a long flight," I suggested.

"I'm fine." He argued. I groaned; he was being such a masochist. My legs were shorter so the reclining seat would not have bothered me, and I knew how to make the little kid behave. I had flown enough to be able to do that, after all my parents had sent me several states away for summer camp every year since I was eight.

I looked out the window and watched how the blue sky would suddenly turn an unyielding white as we passed through a cloud. The square farms of the Midwest disappeared and soon the busy highways and by-ways of the east tolled me I would soon be…not home, but back.

The cab dropped us off in front of my house. The perk of having two working parents, was that your house usually wasn't small. The gray siding stared at me through pristine landscaping. The house was made in a split layer fashion, without actually being a split layer. My window over the garage had its own little roof which was the doorway for me. I had snuck out countless times after fights, or just to meet up with people.

I grabbed Paul's hand, and walked up the brick driveway. It was empty except for an old, but clean CRV. It was a forest green, accented with magnetic flowers on the back. I had bought the car myself on my 16th birthday. It had been far from new then, but it was completely and utterly mine.

"So this is where you lived? Huh." Paul said, examining the entire house.

"Yeah, I used to live here." I stressed the past tense. I unlocked the door with my key and walked in. The house was cold and impersonal. Paintings hung on the plain walls, and the whole house looked more like a museum then a home. Everything had its place; there was no clutter, no nothing. I guess that's what happens when no one really lives there. There was no dust any place either. My parents had a maid who came once a week and cleaned the house. I had always locked my bedroom doors on those days. I don't know what it is, but the idea of a stranger going through my room to clean it always crept me out.

I led Paul up to my room. It was the only room with much color or clutter. My walls were a slightly yellow color that accented the turquoise rug and window fixtures. Collages hung on my wall, along side posters and random photos. Paul took in all in. He surveyed it all, until his eyes came to rest on a pennant hugging the wall over my bed, the orange and blue colors screaming out.

"Were you going to go there?"

"Bucknell, yeah, I got in there, early decision."

"I'm sorry." I looked at him.


"I took your life away from you." He spoke simply and directly, angst burning in his words.

"You never did any such thing. I gave my life to you, and you have given me life back, two lives to be specific. I never want to ever hear you say that you are sorry about that."

“I love you,” he said.

"I know." I laid my left hand over my stomach, the ring shone perfectly in the over head light from the antique chandelier that hung over head, its crystals casting rainbows dancing across the walls. "Trust me, I know."

We filled box after box and bag after bag. My pictures were packed, my books, my clothes, my computer, my cds, my life. Everything neatly put into packages, labeled and put in the trunk of my car. My hope-chest that I had received on my 16th birthday was filled and put in.

I left Paul putting my stuffed animals in a large cardboard box while I ran down to our basement for something. The old white box was dusty and hidden behind an old work bench. I blew off the dust and carried it back upstairs.

"What's that?" Paul asked, when I entered the room, box in hand.

"My grandmother's wedding dress. She gave it to me in her will." He looked at me with soft eyes. "I want to wear it at our wedding. I want us to live happily ever after just like she did."

There was only 3 months of school left before I could get my diploma. I just needed to finish up a few classes, so I was going to transfer to the High School in La Push. Paul drove the now overly packed CRV over to the castle like brick building that lay in the middle of the sports fields.

The halls were empty; there were strangely no kids lollygagging by lockers instead of being in class. The drone of teachers reciting lessons they taught escaped into the hall as a low buzz. I led him down to the office, where Mrs. Hidel, our school secretary sat reading a copy of our school literary magazine, Mobius, which was hot off the presses.

"Abby, dear, it's so good to see you happy and unharmed. You really had all of us worried."

"I know, Mrs. Hidel, and I'm sorry if I caused you any worry. Actually, I'm going to be moving to the west coast, so I was wondering if I could get my transcript and transfer papers."

"Of course, I'll get them for you. Oh, goodness me, who is your friend?" She noticed Paul standing rather intimidating behind me.

"This is Paul," I said with a smile. She gave me a knowing look.

"Well, how about you go clean out your locker, and I'll make sure that I give Paul here your necessary paperwork." She stood up and took off her glasses so that they hung from her beaded chain around her neck.

"Will do, Thanks so much, Mrs. Hidel."

"Any time. Now come along, Paul. You can help me find all the paper work." I laughed as I walked out the main office. For a little old lady reaching her late 60's, she was not at all fazed by Paul's intimidating stature. I wasn't surprised, Mrs. Hidel had taught at a juvenile detention center in her younger days, and had always been able to handle those who were dubbed problem children. Everyone loved her, and I don't think there was a soul in the entire school who could speak an ill word about her.

I followed the scuffed up tiles of the school, past half filled trophy cases and faded pictures of students who had long ago walked these falls. I cut through our courtyard to the science wing, where my locker was. The entire hallway always smelled slightly like auger and sulfur thanks to the biology and chemistry classes. The smell always lingered, I swore it was part of the walls now.

I found my red locker amidst the rows of clones. I spun my lock to the right 12; back 0; right 34 and yanked on it hard twice till the dull click sounded and the black combination lock opened.

My backpack hung on a hook in my locker. The smiling faces of innocent times smiled at me from between the magnets on the door. I pulled out my bag and began to fill it with binders filled with my tiny scrawl and composition books with handouts folded over from where they stuck out at the edges.

I didn't hear any one approaching until I felt the soft tap on my shoulder. I smiled and looked up, excepting to see Paul, but instead I saw him. Steve. The smile instantly disappeared from my features, running away from my face. I turned back to my locker, ignoring him.

“What, no hello? I thought you had better manners then that, Abby,” he spoke sarcastically.

I stood resolutely, swinging my messenger bag onto my shoulder. Steve was taller than I was, but no where near Paul’s height. He was lean, and not very muscular. His blonde hair was slightly jelled up, as if he wanted to style it, but was too lazy to actually do it. He wore dark jeans, and a guns and roses shirt, an over sized black sweat shirt partly zipped up over it.

"What do you want Steve?" I asked, I wasn't in the mood for his games right now.

"Nothing, Babe, I just wanted to talk to you, that's all." He sounded polite, but I knew him too well, and I could hear the hint of malice that hid beneath the pleasantries.

"So talk," I said, staring him down. He didn't like that I had talked back. He grabbed my arm, where my cast was, causing me to whimper in pain. I prayed that someone would walk down the hall, but everyone stayed inside their classrooms. Steve dragged me protesting down the hall, to the faux oak door that was the entrance to the back stage of our auditorium. He shoved me not so nicely onto the stage.

"You're such a god damn bitch sometimes, Abby. What the hell is wrong with you?! You go away for a week last month, and when you come back you act like you're too fucking good to be with me. Then you disappear, and the cops show up at my house looking for you. Now you are going to tell me what the hell is so damn wrong with you, right fucking now!"

Steve's face was contorted into that same mask I always saw him wear right before he got in a fight. I just never saw the expression aimed at me before. I backed away, trying to escape, but the stupid scenery from the school musical blocked any means I had of exiting the auditorium.

"It doesn't matter; I'll be gone tomorrow any way," I said, still searching for a way out. The empty auditorium seemed to be filled with ghosts of past plays upon the stage. But this was no play, this was no make-believe.

"I don't think you got the meaning, your not going anywhere." He seemed to stalk forward. I shirked back slightly, until I felt the cool cement of the wall touch my back. He gripped my arms against the wall, holding himself close to me. "You still belong to me."

He pressed his putrid lips to mine, so I did the only thing I could. I bit him. He pulled back, wiping the blood from his lip. And then he hit me across the face, a burning red mark stinging my cheek. "Bitch." I didn't dare rub my cheek in front of him.

"And you're an asshole, Steve. The only thing you were ever good at was pissing off my parents."

I know it was stupid to say, but I was never good at keeping my mouth shut. I close my eyes tight and wait for the pain. I know it would come, just from that look in his eyes. He was like a wounded animal, cornered and ready to attack. But it never came. I waited, but felt nothing. I opened my eyes and saw Paul standing in the far doorway, shaking and looking like he could kill someone.

"You might want to step away from her now." He's voice was low and there was no hidden anger, it was all plainly shown. The tone said: do it or I'll rip you to shreds without batting an eye. Steve backed up, slightly, but not yet ready to admit he had lost the fight.

"What's it matter to you if the bitch gets what she deserves."

That was it; Paul stopped shaking, which for some reason, made me even more sure something bad was going to happen. He walked forward, pulled back his arm, and punched Steve. His knuckles connected with Steve with a sickening crunch. Steve crumpled to the floor, blood dripping from his nose onto his hands.

"Next time you go anywhere near her, I'll kill you."

It wasn't a threat, it was a promise. I hurried to Paul's side and buried my head into his chest. He lead me out of the school and back to the car. He made sure I was buckled in safely before climbing into the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"For what?"

"For everything, for everything I did before I met you." I said, hating my self for all those stupid decisions I made out of spite for my parents, and those like them.

"Never apologize for anything." He said. Paul started the car, and steered it out of the parking lot, past rows of parked cars, down the maze of suburban streets, and back towards Washington.

The hum of the four cylinder engine was the only sound inside the car. We had turned off the music a while ago, and now listened to silence as the CRV traveled over the paved by-ways. The red sign was solid glow against the polluted night sky. The vacancy sign had attracted us to the motel just off the highway. I wasn't sure what state we were in any more, all I knew was that we still had a lot of miles to go before we got back to La Push. I was worried that Paul would be missing work because of this, but he told me the company was in between constructions, so that meant a time off for a while.

My bank accounts had already been transferred to the same bank that Paul's were in. I was surprise how much all my saving, CD's, and bonds added up to. Not to mention, my college fund. I had taken out a bit of money for the ride home, and I was going to spend some of it tonight.

The suite was gorgeous. It had a living room with a kitchenette, and TV with cable, but the only part I was interested in was the bed room. There was a large comfortable king sized bed sitting in the center of the room. Paul dropped our bags on the floor and plopped down on the bed, he seemed kind of worn out.

I grabbed my small bag and sauntered over to the bathroom to change. I had grabbed my only nice pair of pajamas for the trip home. Usually I only wore a big t-shirt and old boxers, but I did have one pair of cute pajamas. They were blue short shorts, with a matching lacy tank top that was indecently transparent. I quickly changed into them, eyeing myself in the mirror to make sure I looked perfect.

I walked back into the bedroom. Paul was lying on the bed, his shirt off, exposing the ripped muscles that covered his abs and chest. I crawled onto the bed and over to him. I kissed him seductively on the lips, and then onto his cheek, his neck, his chest. I ran my hands up his abs, smiling when I heard his intake of breath. I straddled his waist and bent down, my lips stopped right on top of his. "I love you." I whispered.

He rolled us, so that he was holding himself over me. "I love you, too." And then he kissed me. His hands roamed over me, removing extraneous clothing as they moved. I loved how powerful Paul was, and the way he seemed to be able to make me moan with the smallest of kisses placed on my neck, just below the jaw.

I loved the feeling of the two of us together, combined. It was perfect. He had once said imprinting was finding your other half, your soul mate, and at times like this it was impossible to disagree. The heat of his body soaked into mine, making me feel more then warm. Our bodies melted together, with no cloth to impede us.

I watched the world turn from corn fields, to trees, to open terrain, to the damp green of home. I held Paul's hand as soon to be familiar streets passed by in a blur. We were back in La Push, and I was anxious to unpack and make the house ours.