Instead of going home, not wanting to face the questions that Silas or Anya would have had—if they saw her walking back into the house like she had just stared death in the face and challenged it. She made her way down to the beach—hoping that the one place in which she had constructed most of her memories, of La Push, would act as a comfort blanket, even if she did lose her stuffed toy there. The closer she got the more at ease her body seemed to become, but she was still a long way from the beach. Even with the smallest of sounds, Callas would flinch and jump, scanning her eyes around the forest, her eyes darting to even the smallest detail, not wanting to come into contact with the horrifically real phantom that she had grown to fear. For some reason, one that she couldn't wrack her brain around, she couldn't understand how the man, that plagued her thoughts and nights, was real. How her figments of imagination were springing to life in such a short time period. Had she not got enough sleep? Was she drinking too much coffee? Or was she simply just falling down the rabbit hole into insanity?

     Callas rubbed her forehead, the stress of it all was beginning to get to her—forming a knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat—feeling the warm trickles of sweat rolling down her skin, tickling the skin of her neck as she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Her breathing hadn't evened out, it remained laboured, her heart was still pumping quickly as if she had the heart of Barry Allen, too fast for a normal human. Her eyebrows furrowed at her own choice of word. Human. Was the man she had just encountered human? Was he even a man? He had caught up to her far too quickly. Or maybe she just wasn't running fast enough. She couldn't recall seeing him before that encounter, only in her dreams—or nightmares—but she was sure that he was probably just a character from a movie that she forgot about, it was the only logical explanation that she could think of. Although, now, she wasn't sure of anything.

     Her feet slowly dragged across the mossy ground, feeling heavy and stiff, almost struggling, scuffing up her shoes with dirt as her mind drifted towards an empty blank slate, trying to convince herself that it never happened. Her mind wanted to push all of it away and never speak of it again. Her arms wrapped around her body, she could feel her pulse at the ends of her fingertips, thumping away while she bit down on her lower lip. She was certain that if anyone saw her they would probably see that the light faded from her eyes. Without checking, she crossed the road, the heat from the ground rose in heat waves as the sun scorched the earth, warming the soles of her shoes up—the feeling was unpleasant. Callas managed to make it to the other side of the road without collapsing in the middle of it. It was almost a miracle at that point. Her right hand was held out in front of her as she gripped onto one of the rocks by the edge of the cliff that peered over the drop to the black, stoned, sand.

     Slowly, Callas trudged towards the area of the stairs, blinking a few times as she carefully made her way down them, holding onto the rocky wall, the palm of her hand stinging slightly as the sharp rocks cut into her skin. It wouldn't make much of a difference if she took her hand away, her body was still coated in cuts, bruises and small bumps from where her skin reacted to the poison from the thorns. She probably resembled someone who had just witnessed a horrendous crime, her own mind was shutting down, simply hoping that it was all a bad dream and she was going to wake up. But she knew, deep down, that none of it was a dream, she doubted she could have made that up, definitely not something that real. When her feet touched the sand, she sunk slightly, her shoes beginning to collect a layer of sand as her legs moved numbly, one in front of the other as they brought her towards the driftwood log circle. A shaky sigh left her lips as she sat down, her back facing the stairs, her eyes bouncing from the water towards the top of the cliff.

     The sound of the waves crashing felt calming, she closed her eyes, placing her forehead on her knees as her legs scrunched towards her body. Her arms wrapped around her legs, ignoring the heat from the sun, which was strange, it was close to winter—albeit a few weeks until it was half term where Callas would be allowed to sleep for a week, or maybe just stare at her ceiling laying in bed for a week. But then again, it was La Push, the weather wasn't exactly trustworthy. She wasn't as scared as she was when she was around the familiar man, if he was going to hurt her he would have, he would have had a better chance at hiding her body in the forest than on the beach, she doubted he would do anything again. Maybe he was just her mind playing tricks on her, maybe it was the heat that was making her see things. But that didn't answer how he was able to touch her.

     Callas inwardly groaned, picking up the sand in her right hand, letting it slip through her fingertips. She was going insane. That was the only reasonable explanation that she could come up with that would justify the things that she was seeing, hearing, and dreaming about. Maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe that would explain why she kept losing track of time, letting it slip through her fingertips like the grains of sand that were no longer trapped in her hand. She checked the time, 'twelve twenty-one p.m.' showed up on her phone. She knew she would have to go back home at some point, to have something to eat, but her mind wasn't in the right place for her to just get on with her life. Should she tell anyone that she was losing her sense of reality? Could she risk the looks on their faces as the knowledge of her own decaying sanity was brought to their attention? Would that drive her over the edge faster? Is it even possible for her to be saved? Or is it too late for that?

     With the warmth of the sun, and her regrettable choice of running wear, she took off her running jumper, placing her phone and headphones in the pouch pocket on the front. She took off her shoes and socks, leaving them by her jumper as she rolled up her running trousers and began to make her way to the water. The warm grains of sand left her with a strange sense of comfort, maybe the beach was a place where she could finally be free of her own damning mind. As soon as the water touched her skin she stepped back, it was ice cold, like the hands of the strange nightmarish figure she met. She pushed passed that and stepped closer to the water again, walking in until the water was up to her calf. The ice-cold salt water stung where her cuts were, but she tried her best to ignore them. At this point, she doubted that it mattered how wet her clothes got in the water, they were already drenched in sweat from her run.

     Callas continued to walk in the water until her legs were completely submerged and the water was up to her waist. Her hands moved slowly in the water, watching the small waves that bounced over her skin, rippling as it drifted away. She allowed her feet to push off the ground, her body moving forward as she slowly began to swim out further. A wave—although small—washed over her, pushing her under before she swam back up. Her legs kicked as she pushed herself onto her back, floating on the water as she looked up at the clouds, ignoring the pain that the salt caused on her cuts. Her head was no longer boiling from the sun as the water soothed her scalp. Her eyes closed as she let peace and tranquillity into her mind, washing the pain and stress away as the water lapped over her hot skin.

     She heard faint yelling from the shore, she turned her head and saw Jacob and a few of the others waving at her. A small smile rose on her lips as she lifted her hand up slightly to wave back before she moved her head back, continuing to float. She closed her eyes, letting her body relax as the waves gently pulled her back and forth. From the shore, she could hear cheering and whooping from the boys. Callas knew she hadn't been in the water for long so they must have skipped their last lessons to head to the beach. She heard her name being yelled from shore and saw Seth standing in the water, only up to his calves, his hands cupping around his mouth. Callas waved at him, he waved back before motioning to her to come back.

     The other boys seemed to be settling down around the logs, Callas slowly began to swim back to shore, dunking under the water one more time before a wave crashed into her. When she broke the surface, she was close enough to have her toes reach the bottom of the sand, she swam in a bit more before she struggled to walk out, her damp clothes weighing her down. Seth met her halfway, ignoring that his clothes were soaking up the water, placing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her along to the circle. Her hands began to ring out some of the water from her hair that she had taken out of her ponytail a few minutes before the boys showed up.

     "There's our girl!" Jared grinned, glancing over to Embry before he handed Callas a water bottle. "Heard you skipped to go running?" He laughed lightly.

     "Yeah, although that might not have been such a good idea." She motioned to her new cuts.

     "What did you do? Fall over?" Jared laughed again as Seth moved to sit next to Quil.

     "Something like that," she muttered, opening the water bottle to take a swig.

     Callas made her way over to her stuff, putting the lid back on the water bottle before balancing it on the log, taking her phone out of her running jacket, detaching the headphones. It was only one in the afternoon, which seemed to be the most reasonable thing she's experienced the entire day. She looked back up to the edge of the cliff before quickly looking down. Jacob moved to sit next to her, nudging her arm with his elbow, she looked over at him, squinting as the sun shone directly into her eyes.

     "Looking for someone?"

     Callas quickly shook her head, offering him a small smile. "No."

     "Okay." He nodded, seemingly believing her lie. "Want something to eat? Emily made lunch."

     "Emily? It's only one o'clock, did you guys skip school?"

     Jacob snorted a laugh. "No, we had a half day, some lessons were cancelled so we went back to Sam's place—who you will meet on Friday if you're still down with coming to the bonfire."

     "Reed would kill me if I didn't." She rolled her eyes.

     "Well, that's one reason to go." He grinned. "That and I'll be there, so you know, it's already one hundred percent cooler."

     "You hype yourself up too much, Jake."

     Jacob placed his hand over his chest. "That's rude. I won't give you any of the sandwiches now." He pouted.

     Callas rolled her eyes, slapping his chest with the back of her hand. Jared laughed loudly. "Please, Jake, Embry wouldn't let his girl starve, he'd share his." Jared grabbed Embry in a headlock while speaking. Embry's face warmed up as he pushed Jared away, mumbling for him to shut up.

     "Yeah, you're right, I forgot about that." Jacob nodded.

     Embry stood up to sit away from Jared and over to the other side of Callas. The other boys cheered and oo'd at him, Quil leaned over to mess with Embry's hair. He still had a shy smile on his face as he let out a small laugh, hitting Quil's hand away, mumbling again for them to shut up. Callas looked down to the phone in her lap smiling. Embry opened his bag and took out one of the Tupperware boxes and opened it, offering Callas one of the cut-up sandwiches. She took one out of the box and smiled thankfully at him. She was about to eat when she realised that she still didn't know who Emily was.

     "Wait, so who's Emily?"

     "Sam's fiancée," Jared spoke with a mouthful of chicken, Callas pulled a face at him.

     "Dude," she muttered shaking her head before taking a bite of the sandwich.

     "Does it hurt?" Embry asked her quietly.

     Callas looked over to him confused. "What?"

     "The cuts." He pointed to them. "Do they hurt?"

     "A little bit, the ones from the thorn bushes hurt more." She smiled lightly, glancing up at him only for him to already be staring at her with a smile twitching at his lips. "I guess I'm just going to have to be more careful next time." Callas shrugged her shoulders.

     "Yeah, maybe." He nodded his head, watching as Callas bit into the sandwich again. "Is it good?"

     Callas hummed. "Anya has some competition." She raised an eyebrow.

     "Emily is an amazing cook." Embry smiled at her. "I think you two will get along."

     "I hope so. Her and Leah," Callas replied. "The girl of the group I still haven't seen yet."

     Embry took a bite of his sandwich. "She was in school today, I guess you just missed her. She should be in tomorrow. I think it will be good for the both of you to have a girl to talk to, and not just us guys."

     "I just hope she doesn't hate me."

     "Why would she hate you?"

     Callas tilted her head. "Because she didn't get to say whether she wanted me in this group or not, maybe she would have voted for me to not be a part of this,"—she motioned to the circle—"inner circle type thing. So, I'm just worried that she won't like me for that."

     Embry looked down with a smile. "Trust me, she'll like you."