Harridan

New Bristol lived in fear of the unknown, now. Everyone suspicious about their neighbours, friends, family, teachers, colleagues, rivals; outsiders were especially condemned. Time only made them more discontent, more unnerved. The proctors among them remained silent; they chose to protect as they always have: in secret, unabetted. The town was slow to fall back into its old rhythms although the hysteria became the order of the day. I could no longer live there. I feel more freedom in darkness of the New Bristol Woods; beyond the town limits. That doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone.

As of late, I'm not really alone. Save for the wildlife running amok around the cottage, I had something I can rely on. A family of proctors, for one. The very people I warned to refrain from, I dare say, I have more trust in than Magnolia. Then again, I'd trust a random barista in a Starbucks to save my life more than Magnolia. James hates that I live out here, at the mercy of the elements. At the same time, he was completely accepting of me following my true nature.

The sound of revving brought Kieran out of the cottage and into the sunlight. On the rutted path came the familiar Mercedes-Benz truck. The stubble on Donnie's face was more pronounced and aggressive, even from the distance. He parked right in line with the door, brimming with excitement. Kieran folded her arms and leaned on the frame. He ran up the modest cobblestone path. He spun her in his tight hug.

When he set her down, he combed her hair out of her face, revealing the small smile she tried hiding by looking down. “Did you think I would leave without saying goodbye?” Kieran nodded sheepishly then looked up to the hazel eyes Blaine loved so much. "Not a chance in hell." He cupped her cheek but Kieran pulled away. "I'm going to miss you."

"Good to know." Her dark eyes pointed to his stoically. Donnie's grin vanished in an instant. Kieran shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't play beer pong with strangers." Donnie examined her unchanging expression. "What? Blaine had me following Dartmouth's basketball team's Instagram, since spring break."

Donnie pressed her tightly against his chest. "Harridans," he voiced and shook his head. Kieran arched his shadow over him and formed razor stalactites. When he noticed, she dropped them immediately. "Funny." She only shrugged. "I have something for you. Call it a house-warming gift."

"Seriously," she jeered.

"Trust me," he interjected and returned to his car. Kieran folded her arms and rested her weight on one leg, watching the proctor rummaging through his backseat. "Ta-da," he declared before doing anything.

Kieran sighed, shaking her head as he finally pulled out of his car. He grunted his strain and panted his relief. Kieran tilted her head as Donnie turned back around. Her distaste turned to a tear-swelled glee when he showed her the yellow wisteria tree in its pot. She crossed the cottage garden and never looked away from the tree or the strings of yellow flowers in full bloom. Her lips parted and she looked to Donnie.

"Thank you."

"She's conditional, I'm afraid," Donnie answered. "The condition is that you promise me that you let me in. Whenever I text, call or knock on that door, you will reply promptly."

"Sounds yawning." Kieran didn't desist from the tree in front of her. "You helping me plant her, or what?" Donnie replied by picking up the pot. "I know exactly where I want her," Kieran added and crossed the property to the meadow.

Donnie scoffed but followed her to the very heart of it. Inhaling sharply, Kieran coiled her fingers. Her shadow twisted and dug a deep hole in the ground. Donnie heaved the roots from the pot and set the wisteria into the ground. Solid shadow rakes covered the ground, with it the tree's roots. Donnie wrapped his arms around Kieran as he wiped away tears with his free hand.

Slowly she dared to giggle before leaning in for another hug. “I’ll miss you too, Celtics.” Donnie squeezed her back. "I need you to promise me something," she added, muffled by his pecs but Donnie looked down at her with a furrow in his eyebrows. "Promise me that if you find someone - ordinary, wayward, whatever - you'll move on. We both know she hates people pining over her. If you get the chance to be happy with someone again..."

Donnie nodded with a smirk. "You are a strangely empathic harridan." Kieran only blinked at him. "I promise, Rie."

"The corpses in your medical examiner's course don't count."

"I make no promises." Donnie chuckled and, in spite of herself, so did Kieran. "What about you?"

"Misanthropy is one thing. Bestiality isn't a bridge I want to cross."

"Let me know if you match with Hannibal Lecter on Tinder."

Kieran rolled her eyes coldly. Donnie forced her into a final hug before returning to his truck. He revved off to New Hampshire. Kieran grinned to herself then turned back to the meadow. She admired the weightless beauty of the wisteria flowers brushing in the breeze. Her scarce smile slowly faded under the shadows combing over her. Kieran hugged herself and sighed.

I couldn't go back the way I came, if I wanted to. If I looked around me, there wasn't a single person whose life I wanted in New Bristol. Exposing myself to the town had that eye-opening benefit, at least. As I bask in the sun, taking in Blaine's tree, I realise that half of my heart will always be there. With Meredith and chief; with Janice and Macy; with my grandparents; with Magnolia. It has me thinking, do we choose to live so solitary to pull away from the pain? As gran did after grandpa's death? Chained to this fear of our capabilities' consequences of those around us, torn away and half alive.

Is this what it is to be a harridan?