Amity was getting very good at avoiding people, even in such a small house, but there was only so much she could do when she was trying to stay away from over half the people who lived there. Especially if they decided to actively seek her out.
The knock on her door was light, tentative. Probably Sophia or Luna, if she had to guess. Amity buried her face in her pillow. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Locking herself in her room had functioned fairly well for the past few days; she saw no reason to change anything now.
“Amity?” It was Sophia’s voice. “Please open up.”
Amity growled into her pillow. “Go away,” she shot in the general direction of the door.
She could hear Sophia’s sigh even through the heavy wood. “Come on now, Hon. You know I can get the key to this door if I need to use it. Don’t make me do that.”
Amity hadn’t known that. The bile rose in her throat. With a heavy feeling she lifted herself off the bed and slouched her way to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open warily, glaring at Sophia on the other side.
Sophia’s eyebrows creased into a frown. She looked tired. “Can I come in?” she asked.
“Can I stop you?” Amity countered snidely. Leaving Sophia at the door, she trudged back to the bed and dropped herself down onto it.
Sophia entered the room a little more cautiously, diffident. She sat down on the bed next to Amity’s sprawled form, far more collected; her spine was straight up and down, rigid with polite concern.
“I know you’re still recovering,” she started, tentative, “but you really should come out of your room. It’s not good to keep hiding from everyone here.”
“Whatever,” Amity murmured. “Why shouldn’t I? What exactly do I get out of being social, other than sexual harassment?”
Sophia sighed. “I know the punishment was harsh, but Matilda does have to enforce the rules. And not trying to run away is a big one. You really upset her, you know? We’re her family, and her responsibility to protect and care for. She loves each and every one of us very deeply. It was very cruel of you to reject her like that. You could show a little bit of gratitude.”
“Gratitude? Gratitude?!” Amity sat up, full of anger. “You want me to be grateful that- that what? That you’re feeding me? Giving me a place to stay? I was doing all that just fine before you came along.” Well, not always totally fine, but Sophia didn’t need to know that. “I’m not going to be grateful that I’m being held prisoner. And I don’t have any particular use for Matilda’s “love” either. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Sophia’s posture stiffened further, somehow, as though she’d been offended. “Nevertheless, you do owe her an apology for breaking the rules.”
“Fuck that,” Amity sneered.
Sophia turned to her abruptly, and there was a steel behind her eyes, a solidity that Amity had not expected. Perhaps there was more to the woman than Amity had initially assumed?
“I’m sticking my neck out for you,” Sophia said quietly. “Your behavior reflects on me, and I will not be disappointing Matilda.” Amity was suddenly reminded of Matilda’s last words to her, of her disappointment in Amity. It clenched her jaw like a toothache. She didn't want to care about it.
“Even if you’re not ready to apologize,” Sophia continued, cold, “you do need to come out of this room occasionally. You have to contribute to the household chores. If you don’t make at least a reasonable effort, that too is grounds for punishment. Currently, I am the one standing between you and Matilda’s anger. Don’t make me regret that decision.”
Amity glared at the floor, clenching her fists. None of this was fair. She didn’t want this. Any of it. Fuck all of them.
But she wasn’t going to risk another punishment.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll help around the house.”
“Good,” said Sophia. She stood, brushing off her dress as though divesting it of the room’s sour mood. She gave Amity a sympathetic look. “I know this is a lot to adjust to, but we genuinely do want you to thrive here. Even Matilda. Especially Matilda. She just wants to support us, to do what’s best for her pack. I know you can fit in here, if you just give it a chance.”
Amity snorted, saying nothing. Sophia left, closing the door quietly behind her. Amity would have felt better if she’d slammed it.
For now, there was nothing she could do but obey. With a sigh, Amity rose from the bed and headed out into the house. Sophia was in the kitchen when she descended the stairs, preparing something for dinner. Amity ignored her, and Sophia made no further attempt to reach out, absorbed in her task.
Amity glanced through the large living room windows towards the barn and shuddered. If there was one thing she absolutely didn’t need right now, it was running into Charlotte. She’d find something to do in the main house.
Restlessly, Amity started tidying. The house wasn’t exactly in chaos, but there were always little things that could be done: haphazardly-left shoes could be straightened and placed by the door, Rosie’s drawing supplies could be put away, the pillows on the couch could be set more neatly in place. It was mindless, but at least it was “contributing.”
Amity let the task lead her around the house, wandering like a ghost from the living and dining area, around the corner, past the kitchen to the little reading nook around the back side of the house, through into the rear mudroom and Matilda’s “office.”
Calling it an office was really overstating it; it was really just a desk pushed into a back corner of the back door entryway, strewn with the daily mail and other paperwork. It was out of sight of the kitchen, however, and so Amity lingered there, hoping to stay out of Sophia’s direct presence as long as she could stand it. Forced out of her room, there were only so many places Amity could hide from the other members of the family.
With a deep sigh, she began to sort the papers on the desk. Some outgoing mail that looked like bills, invoices for Matilda’s woodworking customers, one of Rosie’s drawings...
As she gathered up a bundle of old empty envelopes to throw in the trash, something caught Amity’s eye.
There was already an envelope in the trashcan, stamped and hand-addressed. Unlike the ones Amity was about to toss away, this one didn’t look like it had been ripped open. Instead it was unsealed, as though it had been written but thrown away before it could be sent. Maybe it had fallen into the trashcan by mistake?
Curious, Amity drew the envelope out of the trash and then froze, staring at the paper in her hand.
It was addressed to a “Chloe Faraday.”
Paranoid, Amity looked over her shoulder just to make sure no one was watching her. She was still alone. Amity flipped the envelope over; there was indeed a piece of paper inside. Her own breathing felt loud in her ears as she drew it out and unfolded it. She recognized the handwriting on the letter by now as Matilda’s. Her eyes quickly scanned the page.
Dear Chloe,
I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you. I imagine that if you did end up staying with the Resetti pack at some point, you’re probably not there anymore. But maybe they know where to find you. How to get a message to you. It’s a vain hope, but hope is all I have these days.
Not a day still goes by that I don’t question why you left. I thought we were happy. I thought... I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. Clearly I never understood your mind even half as well as I thought I did. Does anyone ever really know anyone else? Ever since you left, I haven’t been sure.
But the past is the past. That’s not why I’m writing. I know if you were susceptible to sympathy for me at this point you would have sent word, some time in the last twenty-odd years. (I say as though I haven’t been counting the days. As though the date that you left isn’t branded onto my heart.) I’m writing because Sophia has brought a new candidate, and I desperately need your advice.
You were always so understanding. So perceptive and good with people. I’m shit at it. I’ve always been shit at it; you remember that well I’m sure. Sophia is doing her best, but I’m still at a loss for what to do about Amity. That’s the new girl’s name, by the way. Amity is... headstrong. Stubborn. Like I used to be. She doesn’t want to stay with us, but she’s already seen far too much to let her go. I can tell she doesn’t have much to go back to, even if she was allowed to. I looked into her background a little bit, and it looks like her previous family abandoned her entirely. I want to make this place a home for her. I want to help her adjust. When I first came to the pack, you and Sophia helped to do that for me. How? What can I do to help her? I need your advice desperately, as I always do.
God, I know it’s stupid to hope that you’ll write me back this time. I don’t know if you even get these, let alone read them. Please know that I think of you constantly. The void in our lives that you left will never be filled.
With all my love,
Matilda
Amity swallowed. The letter had been in the trash, unsent. Had Matilda given up after all? Decided it was futile?
The letter, unfortunately, had little to say about who Chloe was or how she’d escaped. Amity read it over again just in case, but there were no particular details that she hadn’t caught the first time. It was immensely frustrating; so close, and yet so far.
But... it was a connection to Chloe. The one who got away. Amity stared at the address on the envelope, the gears turning in her head. Matilda hadn’t sounded confident that Chloe would receive the letter, but it seemed like the chance wasn’t zero. It was possible that someone would read the letter. Someone in the outside world. Someone who understood what it felt like to be trapped, and how to escape. Someone who might be sympathetic.
Glancing around once more to make sure Sophia wasn’t coming to find her, Amity crumpled up the letter and hid it at the far bottom of the wastepaper basket. Then she drew out a fresh piece of paper and a pen from the desk and hurriedly scribbled a quick note of her own.
Chloe,
My name is Amity Hunter. I’ve been kidnapped by Matilda’s pack. I don’t want to be here, but escape seems impossible. I’ve heard you got away before. Maybe you could help me? How did you do it? Is there some weakness Matilda has? Some hole in their defences? Please, I can’t take much more of this. My whole body still aches from Matilda’s last punishment, and the next in line to inherit the beast is even more cruel. I’m sure you understand, if you went through all this yourself.
If you find a way to write back to me, I hope you can think of some way to disguise the letter so I can receive it without alerting any of the others. Please. I really need your help.
Folding the paper over, Amity quickly stuffed it into the envelope with Chloe's address and sealed it shut, heart racing. She flipped it back to the front side and stared once more at the address printed neatly in Matilda’s handwriting. 5521 Snowberry Lane. She repeated the location over and over to herself, committing it to memory just in case she needed to write another letter in the future. Then she slipped the envelope into the pile of outgoing mail near the bottom.
She was just in time. No sooner had she set the stack of letters down again than the back door opened behind her. Charlotte swept in, the usual sadistic grin crossing her face when she saw Amity seated at the desk.
“Well well,” she drawled. “Looks like the mouse finally decided to venture out of its little hole.”
She sauntered over, placing one hand on the back of Amity's chair and leaning over her menacingly. “What are you up to, little mouse?”
“Just organizing the desk,” Amity bit out through gritted teeth.
Charlotte smirked and rested her other hand on Amity’s knee. Slowly, teasingly, she slid her way up the girl’s thigh, pushing aside the skirt of her dress and sneaking underneath it. Amity tried to squirm away, but she was backed into a corner with nowhere else to go. Charlotte’s questing fingers found her panties and casually slipped under them. Firm digits teased at her entrance, toying with the still sore hole.
“How are you feeling?” Charlotte asked with mock sympathy. “Still smarting from being put in your place?” A finger began to push inside her.
“Better toughen up,” Charlotte murmured into her ear. “When I’m in charge? Matilda’s punishments will look sweet as an ice cream sundae.”
With a laugh, Charlotte jammed her finger all the way up Amity’s mostly dry passage before drawing it back out again. She popped the digit into her mouth, sucking on it with a mocking laugh before straightening up. “Look forward to it, bitch.” She put her hands on her hips. “Matilda sent me to get the outbound mail for the box on my way into town. Where is it?”
Amity gestured at the pile on the corner of the desk, glaring balefully. Charlotte seemed unconcerned, merely flashing her grin and grabbing up the papers. “Thank you dear,” she mocked. She ruffled Amity’s hair, heading towards the door that she’d come in through. “Maybe if you keep being such a good girl, I’ll play with you some more when I get home, hmm? After all, if you’re going to keep getting punished so often, we need to get your back hole good and used to accommodating a big fat cock.” She smirked, one hand on the doorknob. “Glad you're finally learning your place.” And she was gone.
Amity felt like gagging a little. Charlotte was the real problem, there was no denying it. Of all the terrible things about this place, the rest of it might be tolerable if it wasn’t for her. Amity’s mind drifted to what Luna had said to her when they’d last talked. Charlotte was the only one in the running to inherit, really. Amity had no idea what the process was for inheriting the wolf—did Matilda die? Did she just have to retire? How close were they to the disaster of Charlotte taking on the beast? Were there years left, or months? Weeks? It could be anything. If it was just a matter of passing the creature on, would Matilda stick around after the fact? Would she go on to be one of Charlotte’s bitches as well? It seemed unlikely.
Amity sighed. There were people who had answers to her questions. But to find out, she’d have to talk to them.
She thought of the letter that was even now on its way off the farm and out into the wide world. Maybe... maybe if she played nice with everyone else, it would make things easier while she waited. Lull them into another false sense of security. At the very least, she could avoid being punished again.
With a sigh, Amity stood up from the desk and headed out the back door. She glanced around to make sure Charlotte was well gone before making her way towards the barn where she could hear the sound of the jigsaw running.
Standing in the doorway, Amity gazed at Matilda as she worked. The woman was meticulous and neat, utterly focused on her task. For a moment, Amity just took in the sight of her. Her thoughts drifted back to the words Matilda had written in her letter. It had been so much... softer, than she had expected. Sad. Wistful. Knowing its contents, Amity looked at her captor with fresh eyes. Had that tired slump always been a part of her shoulders? Had her eyes always looked so sunken, so far away?
Matilda noticed her presence and looked up, turning off the saw. She lifted the safety goggles she had been wearing and perched them on her forehead, her gaze curious. “Hi,” she said, voice cautious. “Something you needed?”
“I just...” Amity cleared her throat. “I wanted to say sorry.” It came out more sincere than she had expected it to. More sympathetic than she cared to admit. “For trying to run away. I won’t try that again. I promise.” ‘At least, not in that particular way,’ she added mentally.
Matilda’s smile was tired but genuine. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said gruffly. “We’ve missed you in the workshop.”
Amity snorted. “I’m sure Charlotte has especially.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You know she’s kind of the worst, right? I hate being around her. I don’t like being out here alone with her.”
Matilda smiled and took off her work gloves, making her way over to where Amity still stood in the entrance. Her hand was gentle as it came to rest on Amity’s shoulder. “I know she’s a lot,” she said warmly. “How about this? I’ll send her on more errands during the day. I’ve been trying to train her to interface with clients directly more anyway. And that’ll mean you and me will have more time alone in the barn. And when she is here, I'll do my best to be here too, when I can. Sound good?”
Amity nodded, surprised by the concession. “Sounds good.”