Chapter Seventy-Nine

**OLIVER** 
I stare down at the sketch pad in my lap, gripping my charcoal pencil in my hand as I move it furiously over the page. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, calming myself as I looked down at the drawing. I hated it. I hated how it had turned out. I hated how I had once again failed to effectively transfer my vision to the paper. The continued failure only served to make me more irate. 
One would think that I would have gotten used to this phenomenon by now, seeing as it had become a constant since Gabriel left. I gritted my teeth, one more thing to be angry about he’s leaving me. Every day, my mind was consumed with images of him, when he’d call…if he would call, and when he would deem it fit to return. Despite my anger, I missed him I missed him so much. At this point, I was ready to agree to whatever terms and conditions he wanted as long as he came back to me. I hated myself for how desperate he had made me out to be. Never in my life would I have thought that my life would turn out this way…and yet here I was…living that life. 
I put pencil to paper again, trying to salvage what I had started but soon deemed it a lost cause. I sighed heavily as I ripped the page out, and folded it into a ball, the sound of the paper piercing through the silence that reigned supreme in the house. I took aim for the bin on the other end of the room and launched the paper ball, grimacing as it hit the rim and bounced to the floor, joining the other balls that I had missed. The mess around the bin only made my mood worse, and for the life of me, I couldn’t get my legs to carry me across the room to fix said mess. 
I sighed as I stared at the blank sheet, already dreading the outcome as I began to doodle, trying my darkest to translate the image in my brain to the paper before me. A cold sweat broke out on my brow and I swore loudly as my hands became slippery. 
So engrossed I was in my sketch pad that I didn’t notice Carrie walking through the door until she stood directly behind me bent over the couch and peeping over my shoulder. 
“Hey,” she greeted. 
I jumped and turned to see her cackling as she rested against the couch, her eyes twinkling with amusement at being able to scare me. I swore loudly and chuckled, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. 
“Scaredy car!” She exclaimed and launched into another fit of laughter. 
I shook my head and returned my attention to my work, forcing myself to concentrate…and failing with each passing second. I sighed and leaned my head back against the couch. 
“What are you doing?” Carrie asked. 
I looked down at my sketch pad and back at her. “Drawing.” 
She nodded her head slowly, staring down at my sketch pad. “That looks…good.” 
I chuckled and shook my head. “You’re back early.” 
Carrie nodded and wrapped her legs beneath her on the couch. “Well, yes. I finished my errands on time. I thought I’d come home early and have a drink to myself.” 
I and Carrie had managed to settle into a routine since the last time we talked. One that didn’t involve us being at loggerheads all the time, and in as much as it was almost impossible for me to forget the role she played in getting us here, I had to respect the fact that I was now more at peace in my own home. Although a small part of me is convinced that this was all an act, that at some later time when I am most vulnerable, she would sink her talons into me and I would bleed to death. Much like Sasha. I sighed and brushed the memory of my mother and sister to the back of my mind, still shocked to this day that Sasha had blown into my life like a whirlwind and blown herself out. 
And it felt too much like what Carrie was doing. 
I spared Carrie a glance as she walked over to the bar mounted in a corner of the living room, and retrieved a bottle of whiskey and a glass. I smiled to myself as she took a swig from the bottle before pouring herself a glass and bringing both the glass and the bottle along with her. 
“You want a drink?” She asked, as she plopped down next to me on the couch…a little too close, and set the bottle on the floor. 
“No, thanks,” I replied with a smile and readjusted myself in my seat. 
“Are you sure?” She asked teasingly. 
I nodded a tight smile on my lips. “Yes, I’m good.” 
My hand tightened around my sketch pad and the grip on my pencil tightened. No matter how much progress we’ve made, I doubt a day would come when I would be comfortable with sitting so close to Carrie. I took a deep breath and returned my attention to the sketch pad, taking deep breaths with each stroke of my pencil. And then it stopped, the image in my head distorting again, continuously changing. 
“Are you okay?” Carrie asks as she takes a sip of her whiskey, and flips a page in her book. 
I smiled tersely and nodded. “Yes…” I answered. “I just haven’t been able to get much work done.” 
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, feeling the beginnings of a headache at the back of my skull. I take deep, calming breaths, all for naught. 
“Are you sure you don’t want the alcohol?” She asked. “I’ve heard it had helped the greatest of artists overcome their blocks…” she said in a sing-song voice and drained her glass. 
“What artists did you hear of?” I asked laughter in my voice. 
Carrie shrugged and poured herself another glass. “I don’t know, I just know there’s someone somewhere.” 
I chuckled and shook my head. “No, thank you, Carrie. I would be sure to let you know should I ever desire a glass of whiskey.” 
That seemed to placate her, and she returned to her book, lovingly nursing her glass of whiskey in her hand. 
I love this new dynamic between us. I smiled to myself as I thought of the journey that brought us here, and I thought about how happy Gabriel would be to see us how we were. The temporary joy was soon replaced by sadness as I thought of Gabriel, so I brushed him to the back of my mind. 
Carrie dropped her book on the coffee table and turned around to face me, her eyes burning holes into the back of my head as I worked. I turned slowly to her to see her smiling widely at me. 
“Are you okay?” I asked slowly. 
“Let’s go for a walk,” she replied, completely disregarding my question. 
My brows furrowed in confusion. “A walk?” 
Carrie nodded enthusiastically. “A walk.” 
I looked from Carrie to my sketch pad and wondered why that thought had just sprung into her mind. She continued to stare at me expectantly as she waited for my response. 
“Why would I want to go for a walk, Carrie?” I asked slowly. 
She shrugged. “Well, you’re struggling a little there, don’t you think maybe going outside for a bit might be of tremendous help for you?” 
“I’m a little too busy for the walk now, Carrie,” I replied. “Maybe some other time.” 
My heart broke as her face fell, and I immediately looked back at my drawing, suddenly unable to continue. I sighed heavily and looked at Carrie from the corner of my eye. She had gone back to reading her book and her whiskey. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and closed his sketch pad. 
“This walk,” I said, immediately getting Carrie’s attention. “If we go, where are we walking to?” 
Carrie’s smile spread across her face, showing her full set of adult teeth. “The park.” 
“The park?!” I screamed, and my eyes opened in shock. 
“Yes, Oliver, the park,” she replied. “Don’t be dramatic.” 
“But—“ 
“It would be great for you. The place is so calm and beautiful around this time, I know you would be able to draw something.” 
“But there would be lots of children there.” 
Carrie shook her head vehemently and rose to her feet. “Not by this time, no. They’re going to be in school.” 
I opened my mouth to object but my eyes caught sight of the wall clock, and she was right. We weren’t likely to meet children there on a weekday in the middle of the week at midday. So, I didn’t have an excuse. 
I sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.” 
I laughed heartily as Carrie jumped to her feet and did a happy dance. “Great. Let’s go!” 
In a matter of minutes, I was up to my feet and we were out of the house, with my sketch pad underneath my arm, and Carrie skipping happily next to me. I sighed as the midday sun shone on me and the wind blew in my face and hair, carrying in it the smell of flowers and fruits with a hint of dust. It truly was a beautiful day to be alive. 
I and Carrie navigated the roads to the park, greeting other pack members as we strode, talking animatedly like we were lifelong friends. I sighed and sunk into a bench in the shade when we got to the pack, and I mentally thanked Carrie for staging me along with her. 
I watched as Carrie ran around the park, thoroughly amused by her antics, and flipped open my sketch pad. I looked up at her again to see her seated on a swing, her head resting against the chain. My hands itched with the urge to draw her, and so I did. This time, there was no difficulty, my panicked loved over the paper with insane ease, and in a matter of minutes, I was done. The drawing is a miniature replica of the being on the swing. I waved her over, eager to show her what I had done. 
Carrie gasped as her eyes fell on the sketch pad, and tears pooled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She held the sketch pad to her chest and looked up at me. 
“Thank you, Oliver…this is beautiful.” 
I nodded, acknowledging her appreciation, and returned my attention to the park, enjoying the view of the sun as it set.