7 - Testing Room

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7 - Testing Room

Loupe Fiasco, California
USA - North America
The Pack's Testing Room

Sativa
It was day two of my Testing week, and nothing was slipping past Brandon.

I had lied, many times. But, the man seemed to believe me. Guilt, that had died with my integrity a while ago. I tell him what he wants to hear, that way we both get out of each other's faces faster. I irked him, I could tell by the way his jaw was always set in a firm clench, and how he would glance at the door multiple times. I liked that I intimidated him - it gave me an air of power.

"You have a sister?" He asks, his eyes trained on mine.

"Milly." I say, swinging my legs on the gurney. "She is my half-sister, Mr. Hayes."

"Call me, Brandon."

I nod.

I am simply dressed down in a pair of black Yoga pants, and a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. My beloved pair of NewBalance trainers on my feet. I stared at him as he furiously captured notes in his clipboard. Humming every now and then as I answered more questions.

"That night, that you're parents were killed - can you tell me something that you can remember?"

"Eight."

"Excuse me?" He raises a brow and gives me a wary glance. But, I was serious.

"Eight - there were eight men, it was eight minutes past twelve, and they carved the number eight into my parents' chest." I answer. It was true, the most prominent number that rang in my head was the number eight - yes, odd.

He simply nods, writing quickly as he chewed on his lips, "Has anyone ever told you, what an interesting girl you are, Miss Carter?"

"Please, call me Sativa." I chuckle, my mood isn't completely sour today - and I am not sure why. "And no, I have never been informed of my interesting manner."

"Hmm."

The silence hangs in the air for a minute, "You have a mate, Brandon?" I ask, giving him an encouraging nod as he frowns cautiously.

"No, not yet." He sounded disappointed as he sighed, scratching his neck as he leaned back in his chair.

"You sound, disappointed." I note, pushing my wild locks away from my eyes.

"I am," he says. As usual, he had on his lab coat, underneath, dark-washed jeans and a white shirt. I wondered why he bothered.

"You shouldn't be," I frown, tapping my nails against the metal of the gurney. "Mates aren't all they are cracked up to be, Brandon Hayes."

I wasn't sure why I had exaggerated his callings.

"Bad experience?"

"No," I lie. "Just a warning."

He nods. Today, he seems laid back - he isn't asking as much questions as he did yesterday. His desk was piled up high with an array of numerous files and papers. I could have almost felt sorry for the werewolf.

I watch him as he shuffled round the papers on his desk, before settling on one.

"It says here," he suddenly clears his throat and holds up a file - my file. "That you have been to a Juvenile Correction Facility before?"

"Yes," I shrug casually.

"How did that happen?"

"I don't want to tell you," I say childishly, clicking my tongue in slight irritation.

He chuckles, but the slight sound doesn't quite reach his eyes, "Miss Carter - Sativa, you have to understand where I am coming from."

"Which is?" I cock a brow.

"You need to comply with the rules if you would like to pass the Testing stage - so, if you would please tell me what happened, I will deeply appreciate the act."

"No."

"No?"

"No." I arch a brow at his confusion.

"Alright - very well then."

"Isn't it?" I smile slightly.

He narrows his eyes at me a little, before returning them to the file, "It also states that you have been charged for multiple murders," he looks me up and down, I could tell that he was a little scared.

"Isn't that the job of the Elders - the question me about this murder shit?" I hold a growl from my Wolf, she had been annoyed all day, but I wasn't sure why.

"Good point." He mutters.

"Are we done?" I barely hold the snarl from my tone.

"Not quite," he flips another page of the thick file. "One last thing. It says here, that on the third of January, you were admitted to St. Augustine's Psychiatric Ward," he looked genuinely concerned for my health.

January third, exactly a week after my parents died.

I'll admit, my mental state wasn't at the best. Mostly because I spent half of my days in the cemetery, talking to my dead parents, and the fact that Milly called nine-one-one, and told them all these lies about me. For example, how I tried to kill her in her sleep, or how I talk to the ghosts of my parents. In the end, they believed her. But, I'm fine now - I have papers to prove my state of mentality is nothing less than perfect.

Literally.

"I was mental." I pucker my lips and cross my eyes earning a wary look from him. "I was seriously mad."

"I don't believe you."

"Why else would I be sent to a Psychiatric's Ward?"

"I know that isn't the issue."

"Fine," I bite my lip, glaring at the infuriating man. "I ran a waddling lady over."

"No, you didn't."

"Fine," I hold a huff. "I ran a waddling, old lady over."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did - twice actually."

"Now, you're just lying."

"Who the fuck are you to judge me?" I snarl quickly, narrowing my eyes harshly at the frustrated man.

"Please, refrain from the use of vulgar language in my office," he speaks calmly.

"Fuck," I mutter, earning a sinister glare from him.

"Miss Carter, understand where I am coming from."

"Which is hell, right?"

"Get out of my office," he commanded, his voice filled with pent-up frustration.

I could do that to a person.

"No."

He looks at me for a long time, and I hold my stance. Never once backing away from his cold eyes. He opens his mouth, as if he is about to say something, but in that moment, his eyes glaze over and a faint voice reminds me of the Pack Link. Most likely, he was talking to someone telepathically. And, since I am not a true member of this Pack, that perk does not extend to me.

"I need to go," he finally sighs, tiredly glancing at me. "Don't move an inch."

I swing my legs faster. What can I say? I've always been a bit of a hard-ass when it came to authority. Me and that word, don't get along.

He murmurs something under his breath, and before I can catch it, he is gone.

My eyes immediately move to the pile of papers on his desk. Mine lay atop the rest, but I didn't need to look at it anymore. I almost avert my eyes, but something catches it. It's a blue file, different from the cream ones that lay on his desk. I slowly bring my legs to a halt, curiously peering at the file.

"Don't even think about it," Vienna snaps as I roll my eyes. I had expected her.

"Come on, just a tiny peek," I jump of the gurney and walk towards his desk.

"You're hopeless," she exclaims; then goes quiet.

I frown, "Vienna?"

"Do whatever," she sighs.

Shrugging, I reach out for the file. Pulling it out carefully, I make sure not to mess the balance of the others. I chew down on my lip as I flip the file over. Holding it in my hands, I run my hands up and down the smooth, plain file. Liking the feeling it had against my sharp fingers.

Biting my lip, I flip up the flap and pull out the papers from it, my heard hammering against my chest as I realize the name printed so boldly on the front. For a while, I hold my breath, my lungs burn.

"Breathe," Vienna glowers.

"Are you even seeing this?" I whisper urgently.

"Yes," she answers quickly.

She remains silent as I calm my heart, my head begins spinning as the passport photograph captured, and stapled neatly to the top-left of the page confirmed my thoughts. I hold the tears as I hear footsteps approaching slowly, but objectively.

I quickly fold the paper to the smallest size possible, and squeeze it into my bra.
Not the most comfortable place, but I'll take what I get. Quickly walking back to the gurney, I sit and begin swinging my legs again. Letting a poker face make its way to my expression as Brandon reenters the room. But, he is not, surprisingly, alone.

"Natalya," I greet with a small smile. Though, it didn't quite reach my eyes.

"Sativa," she returns the small and looks me over suspiciously. Something tells me that she was aware of exactly what I had carried.

I sit there as Natalya and Brandon talk about something that my mind didn't quite capture. A few seconds - minutes, pass, and Natalya leaves, leaving me and Brandon in silence.

His questions begin again.

This time, my answers are all lies. I couldn't be bothered to come up with plausible excuses for his nosy mind. And, for another hour, he goes on. I knew that he knew that I wasn't telling the truth, why he decided to keep me there was beyond my knowledge.

I nervously chew on my lower lip, my mind too preoccupied to listen to a word that emanates from his mouth. All that I can think of is the blue file that lay squashed in my bra. I can only think of the name, that familiar name that lay written so beautifully upon the front of the papers in that importantly lewd, file.

That name, that name.

That name that had caused me sleepless nights for a good portion of my idealistic teenage years. That name, thar I knew all too, well to say that I was clueless. I rubbed my head as my thoughts swarmed with one particular, insightful man.

Joseph Nathan Carter.

-

Loupe Fiasco, California
USA - North America
The Main Pack Lodgings

Sativa
It was surprisingly warm for mid February. The second day that I had been here. Testing with Brandon had gone on longer than I had expected, and the warm sun casted a one o'clock shadow on the floors of my room. I hadn't bothered to shower once I got back, knowing that the only thing that my curiosity would let me do, was to kick off my shoes and sit Indian style on the white, lard comforter.

I drop my head in my chin, the file rubbing uncomfortably against my left breast, making me wince as I moved around.

I gnaw my fingernails as I ponder what to do. It may seem, like the simplest thing to do right now, is to open the blue file - but, unfortunately, it wasn't. If I opened the file, I would find out a definite answer. If my other other relative was alive or had passed. However, if I didn't open it, I wouldn't know for certainty.

Now, I thought. Which was better? Knowing the true fate of my brother, or not knowing at all and continuing my life in the suspense. I scratched me chin, "Vienna?" I called out.

"Yes?" She answers almost immediately. I was grateful.

"Which one?" I don't bother explaining. The Wolf lived in my head - my thoughts, were her thoughts - oddly.

"I think it's your choice," she said quietly, slipping into the back of my mind.

"Thanks," I mutter sarcastically. "Vienna, I really need you - for once I ask you to be here."

She doesn't reply. It doesn't shock me, she's been like this for most of the day, so I didn't questions her further. I slip my hand into my bra and retract the rough file. Unfolding it, I gulp as empty its contents unto my bed.

I breathe out, I use my shaky hand to pick up the first piece of paper - his main file. His passport photograph stuck to the side. My throat clogged up, his brown messy hair, his deep grey eyes, and... just him. It had been so long since I had seen him, and this small picture - it made me feel as if he was present.

My eyes scan more of the file. It stated the basic details - date of birth, November the fourth 1996. I chew my lip as his age finally catches my eye, he's eighteen. He left home at sixteen, so he must have come here. Blinking, I hold myself from jumping to any conclusions as I continue combing through his files.

My bottom lip quivers. He's single, has a sister - me. He's allergic to carrots, his religion, Christianity - surprising with the actions he carried out during his short stay in my life. He came to this pack on the fourth of December. A little before my parents death. I read on, he had served time in the U.S Naval Force - I knew that. He was also an ex-convict. That, I wasn't aware of. He had been charged on numerous accounts of theft, and murder. "Like sister, like brother," Vienna interjected, a little hostile.

"What's got up your ass?" I bite back, rolling my eyes.

"You," she answers coldly.

"Okay," I sigh, running my hand through my hair. "Frankly, that's quite disturbing. Wolf 'n all, but I don't want to be up your ass." I am deadly serious despite my comical choice of words. "Vienna?"

She was gone, again. Something was definitely off with that Lycanthrope.

Right now, I had more important things to unveil.
Ex-convict, quite impressive, if you ask me. I let my eyes wander the page, he too had also been admitted to numerous psychiatric wards. It said that he was suffering from PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder.

Interesting, to say the least.

I pick up another file, this time it is an admission form into the pack. I recognize his signature, and it is dated to the seventh of December.

I, again, find it hard to breathe. I couldn't deny it anymore. My brother was here. I brought a palm to my throat, rubbing it free of the heavy feeling that settled in it. I had always been the emotional one, something that my father had tried to rid me of from an early age.

I feel a tear slip from my eye, Nathan was close. So damn close, that I wanted nothing more than I run hell in this pack looking for that messy rag of hair. Nathan who had promised me that he would be back, was somewhere within plausible radius from me. I didn't want to read anymore, so I pushed all the files haphazardly into the blue zip, stuffing under the pillow and bringing my knuckles to my mouth, growing anxious by the minute. My body ached with impatience; desperation; but most insignificant - hope.

The soft knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts.

"It's open," I manage, barely registering the fact that it could be the Alpha walking through those doors now.

He could see me crying. I hastily wipe my eyes and put on my familiar poker face, not letting it slide even if I see now who walked in.

I slightly move my head to the right, "Natalya," I smile sadly, making way on my bed for her to sit down on.

"Oh, you read it?" Her calming voice soothed, patting a gently hand on my back. "What did it say?"

"Lots of shit."

"I'm sure you don't mean that," she giggles, rolling her eyes before pointing at herself. "Look at me, I found this dress in my closet and I was hoping it would be admired," I frown at her Snow White costume that was two sizes small, but I only laughed slightly at it.

"I'm in no mood." I warn.

"Are you ever in a good mood?" She asks, her smile never fading as she spoke.

"Yeah, when I killing people." I chuckle darkly.

Not innocent - never the innocent. But the guilty - hell yes, always the guilty.

"Don't say that," she gasps, holding a hand to her lips.

"For goodness sake's, just let me be happy the way I can."

"For you, it's always for badness sake's, killing people is not something to be happy for," she chides.

"If they killed your parents, Natalya, you would do the same." I mutter, dropping my head into my hands.

"Probably... not." She holds a hand to her heart. "I tell you, revenge is never the answer," she looks serious.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, let me tell you a story," she clasped her hands together excitedly. "I had this friend once, her name was Catalina. Well, she liked this boy named Jett - quite frankly, he was ugly; with that dreadful ponytail - anyway, my other friend, Essa, liked him too."

"Go on, do tell me more," I roll my eyes sarcastically, but she pretends no to notice as she smiles and goes on.

"But, Catalina had already called dibs - and that is very important where I come from - well, Essa took no notice and kissed him on the lips during the Annual Dance Festival - that same day," she held a hand to her chest, "What a shame, girl."

"What did Catalina do?" I wasn't particularly interested, but again, that thing that - curiosity, got the absolute better of me.

"She poured a can of Eggnog over her head, and then Jett saw it happen and blamed Catalina for being an insightful witch," she smiled, seeming thoughtful.

"Wait, there's Eggnog you can get in a can," I ask as she glares at me. I raise my hands defensively, "I have always liked Eggnog, Nat."

"Anyway, Catalina was then known as the craziest girl in school and Essa and Jett ended up together," she sighs, clasping her hands.

"How is that supposed to help me?" I cock a brow, my brows creasing further.

"I didn't say that I was going to help you," she sighed. "I said I was going to tell you a story," she finished, looking quite proud, to say.

I let out a small chuckle, and she follows with her own.

The silence hangs in the air for a minute, before I break it with a question that lingers in my thoughts, "Do you know anyone in this Pack, named Joseph Nathan Carter?" I almost curse at myself for asking it at all.

She cocks a brow and smiles happily, "You mean, JoJo?" She whispers the last part, "I'm not really allowed to call him 'JoJo', he says only his sister gets to do that, lucky girl - he hates JoJo."

My heart clenches, "You know this person?" I probe.

"Of course, he's my mate."

"What?" My eyes widen in shock as she stares at me in confusion. "He's your what?"

"My mate; say it with me, M-A-T-E, my soulmate. God, I love that man," she giggles.

"He's gay!" I exclaim, my eyes brewing with confusion as I stare at her.

"What?"

I stay thoughtful for a minute, how a homosexual man could turn straight was something unknown to me. Several times, Nathan had dated both men and women - he said that he was exploring his sexuality. I just thought he was bisexual. But staring at his mate, who is obviously female, I guess he found out that he was straight after all. I do remember his boyfriend - Kieran, a skinny thing with raging red hair.

Nathan had dated him until the end of his final year, then he moved on to Izzy, the one who hated my guts.

"He's my brother," I sigh.

-

© V.L Khan

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