running from my shadow

[rhys alexander greyback]

There are times when I kick myself
Say I'm not sick, but I can't get well

Say I got this while I chase my tail
As if they can't tell

December 22, 2028

The lights buzzed overhead. The subliminal flickering left Rhys on edge in that nails-on-a-chalkboard sort of way. And without a clock, it was impossible to tell the time. Nearby, a man snored in the corner. He looked as peaceful and happy as if his head were on the world’s softest pillow, not a concrete wall. Rhys’ head rolled to the other side, where he could see his younger sister—Dahlia. She didn’t look at him. Maybe it was the lights, or he wasn’t sober yet, but Rhys couldn’t read her expression. Running a hand over his face, Rhys winced slightly. How long had they been here? For a moment, he had forgotten about the tenderness around his eye, the fresh cut in his lip, and how his head hurt. They can’t have been there long. A Healer was supposed to attend to them. Per their rights, however, it was hardly stated that a Healer would promptly arrive. And with each sobering breath, the pain and weight only increased.

What would Rhys give to change the last three days…

Three days ago, Rhys seated himself next to his daughter and her mother—Sage Grimstone. This was not uncommon. A family dinner of sorts, where Amelia could spend time with her parents rather than one or the other. Most of the time, Amelia remained with Sage as Rhys was often away for work. The past year, however, had placed Rhys in the UK for the better part of a year. And much had changed. Rhys had gone from Cursebreaker to Professor. The change to his employment had been temporary, but other changes such as Vasilia Fortescue dumping him—were not. Returning to Hogwarts also held the unintended consequence of rekindling old connections. And Rhys fell back into old habits following his newly acquired bachelor status.

While Sage left to retrieve butterbeer from the bar, Rhys took the opportunity to consume more firewhiskey without her judgmental gaze. Sage was not shy about her thoughts regarding Rhys’ life. Whether it was who he spent his time with or how much he chose to drink. Fatherhood, however, had grown on Rhys. And had Sage or one of his sisters not been present, he would not have consumed whiskey like a man looking for water in a drought. Amelia, on the other hand, curiously inspected her sippy cup. Perhaps the bright lime green color had been a good choice after all. Rhys breathed a sigh of relief as it had taken far too long to convince her to sit in the high chair.

And dinner felt normal. Unfortunately, neither Max nor Dahlia could join them, and since Vasilia was not in the picture anymore, it was just Rhys and Sage. They were friends, after all. And genuinely so and not merely for the sake of their child. Occasionally, there was a question from Amelia about where the “parkins” (pumpkins) were and when was “kissmas” (Christmas). The whiskey made Rhys’ head feel foggy, and whether or not he’d admit to it, Sage could see the way his eyes glazed over. Like the sky had clouded. Amelia’s eyes were bright in contrast while she excitedly shared her impression of the “cookie monsuh” (cookie monster), pretending the cut strawberries in her hands were cookies. Rhys had almost forgotten Amelia had watched some clip of a children’s show Juniper had been watching for her work.

Rhys stood to get one last drink at the bar and pay their tab while Sage doted on Amelia. With the last traces of whiskey burning in his throat and his pockets much lighter, Rhys returned to the table. However, he was intercepted quite forcefully by a man nearly his height. Slightly inebriated, Rhys stumbled into someone else, and the sound of a few glasses breaking filled the air. ”Watch it—“ A wave of anger and annoyance filled his core. But the man only smirked. ”I’m not the one who needs to watch it—dog.” The man taunted. And while Rhys felt his face grow hot and his heart race increase, somewhere among all those voices in The Three Broomsticks was Sage desperately trying to get Rhys’ attention. Merlin knew she was one of the few who could ground him.

”—born from such violence. It's in their nature.” Rhys couldn’t quite recall the beginning of that thought, but it had been enough to override every bit of logic in his brain. But unlike times before, Saffron nor Archer were not there to grab him by his shirt or whatever limb she could hold. Had Rhys paid attention, he would have seen Sage immediately turn to Amelia—who also called for Rhys. And Rhys? Well, all he cared about was getting his hands around that man’s throat. But all that really occurred—or so he was told, was a brawl that included Rhys falling through the table where he and his family once sat. When the pair were finally restrained, Rhys grunted in pain as his hands were forced behind his back and his face to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sage, holding a distraught Amelia, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read.

A night in a cell later, Rhys was let go. The morning sunlight was unwelcome, and Rhys wondered if his phone had been damaged during the brawl as his calls to Sage went straight to voicemail. Rhys was supposed to have Amelia for the week, but for the moment, he was simply glad to be free, though he desperately needed sleep and a shower. Those months with the double full moons always took a toll on him.

Rhys thought of his phone while listening to the dial tone of an older-looking phone. Naturally, it wasn’t as if The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol would let their prisoners use the latest and greatest mobiles. Mumbling to himself, Rhys waited for someone to answer. ”C’mon Max…” Merlin, he didn’t even know if she was working. And when it was clear his younger sister would not answer, he sighed heavily. And with Dahlia detained alongside him, Rhys realized there wasn’t anyone else he wanted to call. Would his friends answer? Of course, their assistance was never free, and Rhys could hardly stomach the thought of a lecture in his current state. So, he hung up the phone, and one patrolman escorted him back to the cell.

”Fucking hell Rhys—“ Sage was furious, to put it mildly. ”It won’t happen again, I prom—“ He began before Sage interrupted him, her glare left him frozen in place a moment. ”No, it won’t. I can’t keep doing this, Rhys. Do you know how scared she was? How scared she still is?” Rhys more or less gawked in response. Scared? Amelia scared of him? A strange chill traveled up his spine, leaving goosebumps up his arms. When Rhys didn’t answer, Sage merely shook her head in frustration. Crossing her arms, she took a deep breath. ”Just…let me see her. I’m her father. Let me fix this.” Rhys didn’t anticipate how hoarse his voice sounded. And as Sage shook her head, he felt his face grow hot.

”I’m sorry, Rhys. I’m her mother, and I need to protect her.” Rhys’ brow furrowed. Protect her? From who? ”You’ve been spiraling, Rhys, and I don’t know why. But enough is enough. You need to get it together because I won’t let you take both of us down with you.” Rhys only felt shock. ”Protect her? Are you serious?” What in Merlin’s good name was she going on about. This was absurd. ”Yes—I’m serious. Do you think it’s a coincidence that Vasilia left you after your longest stint at home in two years? If you don’t do something…”

Rhys’ entire body twitched awake. He squinted against the bright light. Again, Rhys couldn’t tell what time it was without a clock. He had managed some sleep but only to fall into the familiar pattern of his memories haunting his mind. It was ridiculous. He didn’t have a problem, not anything debilitating, and yet she threatened his rights as a father. The indignation still felt fresh. After all, Sage knew what his life had been like, and for her to do this…

Rage had bubbled within Rhys, and he’d sought out Rob and Dahlia. His faithful and reliable drinking partners. People he could vent his worries about, and no lecture waited for him. Rob had been unavailable, which was unfortunate. The other werewolf might have been able to turn Rhys away from the path that lead to a cell with awful fluorescent lighting. No, Rhys and Dahlia had gone through a fair amount of tequila before some brave soul decided to air his thoughts about HOWL and related items. Rhys wished he could go to The Violet Hound, where werewolves tended to linger, but he could not. And Rhys’ rebuttal began with a right hook to the other man’s face. Of course, Dahlia backed up her brother, and several broken pieces of furniture later—Rhys found himself detained by a young Hit Wizard.

Considering how the week had progressed, Rhys doubted he’d get a pass this time. He felt unable to handle the mess in his mind. Did he feel more lost now than before? Rhys wondered, also thinking about how this cell did nothing to ward off how isolated he felt. 

’You’re hiding and drinking it away.’

Maybe everyone was right

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