The Boy Witch

24: Finally Back

I lean against the reception wall, watching Dr. Tremain file my discharge papers with the front desk. My arm throbs dully despite the medication, strapped in bandages and a sling across my chest. From across the room I see the sheriff watching me carefully. I avoid his eyes and opt to looking blankly into space.

It's been a week since Halloween, one week that I've had to spend in the hospital. Though the excuses first ranged from wanting to observe for infection to looking for signs of trauma from the wolf attack, I knew why they were hesitant to let me leave—they wanted a way to keep an eye on me.

Now they can't keep me at the hospital. My arm is healing nicely and mentally, I am the same as before. Both pain and nightmares have barely let me sleep at all this week and I'm eager to go home. However, from the rigid stare that I am receiving from the sheriff, I might not be able to get my needed sleep as soon as I'd like.

"You're all set," Dr. Tremain pulls me out of my musings, lightly tapping a copy of the paperwork on my shoulder. "Here's the papers, everything's filled out. Sheriff Dawson will drive you home." At my questioning look, he returned a helpless smile. He talks with me for a few minutes longer, giving me a bottle of pain medication and bids a goodbye. I stare at the bottle for a moment, turning it in my good hand before sighing.

"Are you good to go?" I tense at the sudden voice of the sheriff behind me. Turning around, I crane my neck slightly to look at him before silently nodding my head. Without another word Sheriff Dawson starts walking out of the hospital to a truck parked temporarily at the curb. On the side is the circular logo of the Wintervale police department. I struggle for a moment to get up into the tall truck but manage to seat myself just as the sheriff starts the engine.

The truck remains silent as Sheriff Dawson pulls out onto the road, leaving me to hope that I wouldn't have to suffer through another uncomfortable conversation. That hope dies when the sheriff begins speaking in his even voice.

"I hope you know that we can't leave you alone now," Dawson said. I assume that by 'we' he means the rest of his pack, knowing that he's the leader, or alpha, of this town's pack. Silently, I nod my head.

"Good." The scenery outside changes slightly as we drive through the center of town. My eyes follow the little coffee shop that I work at as it passes by. "There are two choices for you to make, North."

"I have a choice?" I snort, half-disbelieving.

"You aren't a captive and you won't be treated like you were previously." I see Dawson's hands tighten slightly around the steering wheel before he continues, "You have a choice: either you can stay at the pack center in the sights of the rest of the pack; or, you can stay at your own home but with someone staying with you."

This is hardly a choice. "I'd like to live in my house, thanks," I mutter, shifting in my seat. I glance at the side of his face before asking, "Who would stay with me, anyways?"

"My son, Alex." He lifts a finger off the steering wheel when I start to protest, silencing me. "There is no way for you to change my mind." Knowing better than to push my luck, I settle back into my seat and look out the window.

The drive remains silent as we drive to the outskirts of town. Even though it is still early in the morning, I feel exhausted. For a moment, my head comes to rest against the window. My eyes grow heavy but just as they were about to close, I take a sharp breath and sit upright. The sheriff glances at me as I rub my eyes, fighting off sleep.

I don't want to sleep here.

The empty stretch of road takes ten more minutes before I see my house. In front, I see my own little silver car and the sleek black one of Alex's. As the truck pulls into my driveway, Alex steps out of his car.