ABOUT WREN

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[attr="class","omapponestatus"]and then you'll wake up in a cold and empty sweat in the middle of the night from a dream you'll never forget

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Wren Pollock never loved his dad. [break][break]

To be more specific, Wren never loved the bigoted, wrathful, fire-and-brimstone douchebag he called a father. Luke Pollock was all heavy fists and anger, a menace to the God he claimed to worship. His father was a charming man with a sweet smile and boyish good looks that he hadn’t quite shaken from his childhood, and people loved him. Trusted him. But not Wren. [break][break]

Never Wren.[break][break]

Wren was born into a chaotic, fearmongering family with no hope for a bright future. His father had never wanted him, and his mother was too ashamed of him (and herself) to take care of Wren and his brother as a mother should. She fed them. Clothed them. Sent them to school, drove them to church. But she didn’t love them. She was too afraid to love them. Anneliese Pollock was locked in an uphill battle with her neglectful husband, and Wren and Kather were caught in the wake.[break][break]

To outsiders, to the church, to the town of Bentwood, the Pollock family was picture perfect. Two dazzling little boys, a doting father, and a demure mother with a swelling belly. But their home; always clean and pristine, was a cesspool of chaos and hatred. Wren wet the bed until he was twelve years old, a product of fear and unease that plagued his every step. Kather grew up too fast, too hard- he became the father to his little brother that Luke could never be, too kind and gentle for his own good. [break][break]

And then she came. [break][break]

She came, a ray of sunlight, the little girl with the blonde curls and the wide, impossibly brown eyes. She had the rosy cheeks, the button nose, the whooping laugh (even as a child, she laughed) and for a moment Anneliese Pollock (doting mother, careless mother) thought that the worst of it was over. That the little girl was the tamper on Luke’s rage, that she was the key to unlocking his kindness. His real kindness. [break][break]

But as she grew, she turned violent. Wild, untampered. She talked back. Didn’t listen. Defied the very God that Luke so devoutly worshipped. [break][break]

Twelve years passed. Wren and Kather (the lost boy and the father figure) were protective of their younger sister- almost violently so. They had practically raised her; their careless mother and their wrathful father hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming to the little girl, not after she’d so pointedly and angrily denounced the god they devoted their lives to. (But Luke never hit Aggie. Not once. Not that Wren and Kather could say the same.)[break][break]

It was the summer Kather turned eighteen when Aggie climbed into the car after church, her cheeks stained with tears, her hair a ratty mess. Even as a young girl, Aggie had always been careful with her appearance. The boys knew that something was wrong, and even after pressing her with question after question, she wouldn’t speak up.[break][break]

The next weekend Kather tugged a sixteen year old Wren into his bedroom. “I don’t want to stay here,” Kather had said, pulling his collar down to reveal a yellowing bruise just below his jaw. He’d grown handsome in the past years; he was tall, toned, and possessed their father’s strong jaw and light hair. His gaze, hazel like their mother’s, found Wren’s own and Wren was surprised to see tears welling in the corners of Kather’s eyes. “But I will stay.” He croaked. “If you need me to.”[break][break]

Sweet, gentle Kather. So different from his parents. So undeserving of the life he’d been offered.[break][break]

Wren had threaded his fingers into Kather’s hair and he pulled their foreheads close together. “Go,” Wren muttered. “We’ll be okay. I’ll take care of Aggie.” He’d said.[break][break]

He’d pulled his older brother into a hug, and Kather, star football player with a body to match, returned a hug so gentle that Wren though he might crumble away and turn into dust. Kather didn’t belong here. He belonged with a family of his own- a better one. [break][break]

And so he left. It was a tearful goodbye in their driveway- not for their parents, but for the siblings Kather was to leave behind. Aggie hugged Kather weakly, her shorn hair glowing in the late afternoon sun. She’d cut it herself, much to the distaste of their father. [break][break]

She hadn’t been the same since that Sunday. [break][break]

When Kather crushed Wren into that hug, it was nothing like the one before- gentle, careful. It was desperate. Anguished. [break][break]

A final goodbye.[break][break]

Wren was nineteen when Aggie stopped letting him touch her.[break][break]

He was twenty when she stopped talking to him altogether.[break][break]

And he turned twenty-one the day she ran away from home, taking her life and her passion with her. [break][break]

Luke’s health began failing after his daughter left. Wren tried to take care of him, for a while. But the old man was too furious. Too proud. He died in his sleep, peacefully.[break][break]

Anneliese sold their house and left town. She began to live the life she’d always wanted to live, finally free from her late husband’s shackles. She sang in bars in Mobile, Alabama. She made a name for herself in that city, the woman with the sad eyes and the soulful voice. She may have been a timid woman, but she filled a room. Anneliese Keller, the Bentwood Beauty.[break][break]

Wren found an apartment in Birmingham. He called his mother often to check up on her, but he had no purpose. He’d never applied to college- he’d stayed home to watch over his sister. He hadn’t spoken to Kather since that mournful hug in the driveway. He wasn’t even sure Kather still had the same phone number. [break][break]

His life was slow. He didn’t see the point in bothering his mother- she was finally living. She was finally happy, three children be damned. [break][break]

So Wren went to Instagram. Because that’s how everybody is found these days, right?[break][break]

Aggie Pollock, he’d typed. Because she’d never go by Agnes.[break][break]

And sure enough, there she was. [break][break]

Thriving.[break][break]

She had a successful business. Her designs were beautiful- he could see every shared emotion in each bolt of fabric sewn into a shirt or a dress or a coat. The pictures she’d taken with models- she was radiant. Beaming. Looking like she loved living. She was every inch the little girl she’d once been. A third member of the Pollock family, given a new life.[break][break]

Wren peeked at the location. Seattle, Washington. [break][break]

Seattle. [break][break]

He owed his little sister a visit.

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NORTHY

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