Hellooo! Welcome to chapter three of Knotted. I am so excited to share it with you all. This is one of my favorite chapters of the twenty-five I have rolled out for all of you to read. This one has a lot of one on one Bernie and Tris time, which is my favorite sort of time! I hope you all some to love Tris as much as I do after reading this chapter! Don't forget to read the companion site here. You can now see Tris's character sketch and learn more about him!!

 

Episode 1 Part 1

For the first time ever, I decided to leave work early. Of course I didn’t have much of a choice with the state I was in. After blacking out I woke to wobbly legs and a fuzzy head. Dan made Tris walk me home while he opened up the shop. My guess was that he wasn’t too happy with his son. Now Tris stood in front of my house shuffling his feet while I fumbled for my keys. My hands were still shaking making it difficult but, after a few long breathes and a lot of concentration, I controlled them long enough to let myself inside. Tris came in right behind me.

My initial thought after walking into my house was to tidy up. Put away my bag, jacket, and the umbrella I didn’t need, and to obsessively fidget with things around my house. Like the painting above my couch that was just a sixteenth of an inch out of place. But, almost too exhausted to even think about doing anything, I threw my bag against the wall and let myself fall back into the couch, ignoring the painting above my head.

I noticed Tris looking sullen and awkward just inside the open door. That’s weird. It wasn’t like Tris to be shy. The way he usually acted, this house belonged to him. It wasn’t uncommon for me to walk into my living room and be greeted by an uninvited Tris lounged on the couch, feet on the coffee table, and containers of vanished leftovers spread out around him. He’d even spent many nights avoiding his dad in my house; out like a light in my spare bedroom before the sun even set below the horizon.

“You can come sit if you want.” I told him. They were foreign words, words that were never needed to be said to Tris, but I could hardly care less at that moment. I laid my head back down on the pillow and closed my eyes. Really all I wanted was some quiet so I could better calm myself down. My body was still shaking, and my head was spinning. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that close to any Pokémon, let alone one that was about to attack anyone. But he didn’t. I wonder why he stopped.

“Nah. Thanks but I think I have to get back to the bakery to get yelled at some.” Tris heaved the heaviest sigh I’d ever heard.

“Okay. Tell your dad I said not to be too hard on you.” I called.

“Will do.” All I heard was silence, no click of the door closing, no footsteps as he walked down the stone path. But truly, I was so tired that I couldn’t even force myself to wonder what he was doing. The soft cushions of my white couch were all I could think about.

“Hey…Bernie Girl?” I peeked one eye open and looked over where Tris stood by the open door. He was looking down, a hand still on the doorknob, his long dark hair flopping down over his face. That hair was getting pretty interesting these days. He’d shaved the sides completely and let just the top grow out. Today he was wearing it up in a ponytail. I personally thought it was a ridiculous look—especially since it was just another way he was trying to rebel against his dad. He was always attempting to piss his dad off. The first time with his pierced ear, then the piercing in his eyebrow. The real kicker was the tattoo on his arm—the face of a rampaging Gyarados. Tris got hell when he showed up at the bakery shop after having been missing for two days with a fresh tattoo displayed on his arm. I was personally amazed at the shade of red Dan’s face turned when Tris informed him that a sixteen year old amateur inked him in an alley behind a tattoo shop in Jubilife. Dan refused to talk to him for weeks after that one.

Granted, most of the time Dan didn’t even notice his son’s metamorphosis from the sweet looking little kid I once knew, to the slightly scary young man he was turning into—he was one tattoo shy of becoming a gang member in my book. But his dad didn’t have too many free days lately, and his brother, Danny, wasn’t likely to care enough to notice things like that. He barely even saw his brother and father and they lived just two streets away. Suddenly I felt bad for Tris. He was a good kid mostly, he just had a lack of good role models to show him the way. They were all too busy.

“Yeah. What’s up?”  

“Thanks…Thanks for standing up for me. I know your deal with Pokémon, but you tried to save me anyway.” I don’t think Tris could look any more awkward at that second. He rolled his eyes, “Geez, a girl had to protect me from a little Chimchar.”

“Girls can do anything boys can do you know. I can be a knight in shining armor too.” I giggled at the thought.

“Does that make me the princess then?” Tris’s amused smile was brief and fleeting. His grip on the doorknob tightened. He turned his head to look at me with his bright blue eyes. They had an intensity to them I’d never noticed before. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Sure thing kid.” I said, shocked by the force of his promise. He nodded and turned to leave but stopped midway.

“And one more thing. I’m not a kid anymore Bern. You don’t need to treat me like one.” He said it with his back turned to me. He paused for a second or two, expecting me to respond. I said nothing. That was enough for him, I suppose, because he walked out, closing the door behind him.

That was…interesting. But I guess he was right. Tris was seventeen now and he wasn’t much younger than me. We only had an age difference of two years. I guess I’d just always thought of him as a kid because I was always the one protecting him when we were younger.

Neither of us had many friends growing up. I was the weirdo who didn’t like Pokémon and he was the punk who always acted out. No one wanted their kids hanging out with someone always getting into trouble. At school we stuck together pretty often even though I was two grades ahead of him. We protected each other from the bullies, but more often than not I was protecting him from the kids who had grudges on him. That was when I learned that kids could be cruel. They were always pulling pranks on him, laughing at him under their breathe as he passed in the hall. They made fun of him because his family was a little poorer than the rest, and because his mom walked out on him and the rest of his family when he was just a little kid. They told him she left because of him. I was always the one to tell him they were wrong, and to nurse the wounds after he got into fights.

I could see why he might not want me to do that anymore though. He was older, and it was probably embarrassing for a girl to protect him. It wasn’t like he really needed it these days. He was taller than me by at least a foot, and somewhere around eighty pounds heavier. He’d been in his own share of fights too. He wasn’t a stranger at taking a punch anymore and he was quickly become a master at throwing them. It would be hard but I’d have to respect his…um…masculinity?

I couldn’t help but giggle.

After a nice shower I felt a little bit better. I scrubbed my cheek especially hard right where the Chimchar had touched me. Stepping out of the bathroom, I realized I was pretty hungry. My stomach was growling louder than a Mightyena with a bad attitude. I sauntered off to the kitchen wrapped in my warm fuzzy robe and soft pink slippers.

The house was a little chilly. As I walked into the kitchen I realized why. The window was propped open, letting in the cool afternoon breeze. I couldn’t remember opening the window, but I suppose I was a little out of my mind from this morning. I probably just opened it without realizing. I closed it absentmindedly as I thought about what I would make for lunch. A nice soup would be comforting. Or a stew.

The process of making lunch took my mind off of the morning’s events. I went to work right away, dicing up vegetables for a nice minestrone. Just like the time I put into my baking skills I worked very hard to be a good cook. Food was my life, it was something to distract me from the bullying and the whispers and to gain the approval of the people who enjoyed my products. It was one of the few things I was good at.

While the vegetables sautéed in the pot I turned to the fridge to grab some homemade vegetable broth. I looked at the date at the top of the plastic container. Damn. It was already a few weeks old, probably spoiled. I looked back at the pot longingly, wondering what to do with all those sautéing vegetables, only to realize they were no longer there.

The whole pot was gone, the burner still going steadily. I quickly shut it and spun around, looking for the pot. It was nowhere in sight.

“What the hell.” I put a hand to my head and leaned against the counter. Was I crazy? I was so sure I’d put those veggies there to sautée. Could I have imagined it? No, the chopping board and knife were in the sink of soapy water, both orange from the carrots. There where…

I heard the bang of metal coming from somewhere in the house. I jumped, a hand went to my heart as it raced. Slightly shaking I moved away from the counter and walked toward the living room which was partially hidden from the kitchen by a wall. I heard the metal sound again. Like a pot banging against something sturdy. A bookshelf, which occupied the whole of one wall, held a mirror right in the center, going from the ceiling to the floor. In it I could make out the pot in question lying upside down on the ground. Nothing that I could see through the mirror was near it so I walked into the room. Without thinking, I grabbed the pot and looked inside to realize it was completely empty and still scalding hot. My hand burned fiery red.

I threw the pot away from myself, gripping my wrist with my other hand. The pot flew across the room and banged against the opposite wall, just a foot from the couch. I threw it with enough force that the pot made a dent in the perfect white wall and, to my great annoyance, turned the painting above even more askew. But these were all secondary thoughts. At the forefront of my mind was the sound that came after the pot hit the wall.

It was the distinct sound of something very inhuman. It was high, it was loud, and it got my heart racing even faster. I gaped at the couch, backtracking until my back hit the bookcase. The bookcase shuddered slightly from the impact, and I heard something small roll. It rolled off the book case and shattered loudly on the ground. It was followed by that sound again, the one that wasn’t human, and in seconds I was racing out of the room, wanting more than anything to get away. 

 

Obrigada todos!! Don't forget to go to my website and ask your favorite charaters questions. Bernie and Tris are eagerly standing by!!