Title: Obliterate

Title: Obliterate

I was never good at keeping my temper. It wasn't my thing. My mom used to say it was in my genes: my father had been abusive. I hated him. I hated that I was like him. I hated my temper. All that did was get me even more mad. I didn't want to be like Carlos Rivers. I wanted to be someone different: Paul Rivers. My own person. My own identity. I didn't want to carry around the fact that I was like him, like the father who had beaten my mother down into submission. It hurt to hear my mother say that, and also to know that it was true.

It hurt to think about, too. Luckily, I had Sam. When stuff got bad, he was there, helping. Sam was good to me. Like an uncle- older than me, more mature, but still a friend, someone I could connect to on a personal level. Sam helped me with my demons. He was probably the only one. I could never take advice from someone who didn't know what I had been through. Sam did know what it was like. He had had his fair share of awful stuff happen to him. Therefore, he helped me.

With his help, I became bearable. But I still raged out of control with phasing. The pack teased me about it. I didn't say anything, but sometimes it hurt. In my experience, only the people you love can damage you.

But today, I was okay. Not good or bad. Just okay. I was on my way to Sam and Emily's house, meeting up with Jared and Quil before running off for patrol duty. Routine stuff. I didn't mind. I liked to run. I was good at it, too. Not as good as Jacob, but I didn't have the blood as strong as he did in me.

I twisted the key in the ignition and parked my banged, defeated car right by the curb. The driveway was taken up with Jacob's Rabbit. Ugh. As usual.

When I walked into the kitchen, it was already pretty filled. Jared wasn't there yet (he was usually late) but Quil was, his imprint Claire on his lap, along with Jacob, Seth, and the kids, Collin and Brady. Jacob and Seth had taken them under their wing, keeping them out of trouble and showing them wolf tricks. Collin thought they were gods. Brady thought they were the alpha. Little kids. I would never admit it, but I had a definite soft spot for them. They were thirteen, untroubled, carefree.

Quil raised a hand in greeting. "Yo."

"Hey, Ateara. How much down time do we have before Sam jumps down our throats?"

"About twenty minutes," interjected Seth. I glanced at his wrist- he had a watch. It figured. Seth was still a bit thirteen himself.

"Mm. Yeah. Has Emily got any food made?" My stomach rumbled as I spoke.

Jacob pointed to the fridge. "She made a ham."

Excellent, I thought to myself, going over to the refrigerator, extracting the ham, and fixing myself a plate. I wolfed down (no pun intended) half the plate in no time.

"So," I asked, stabbing a piece of meat with my fork, "Any news on the pack front?"

Collin shrugged. "No, not really. The vamps have been quiet."

I just looked at him. It'd be nice if someone who actually knew what they were talking about had answered me. I grunted.

Looking at the faces before me, all of them happy and occupied, I felt like I didn't belong. They were content and happy. I wasn't.

Dammit! Why couldn't I be like that? Why couldn't I not be as screwed up? How come I had to be the one with the awful demons? I wished I could be more like the pack. Actually happy.

I took a deep breath. My temper flared at the slightest things. I had to get some air.

I inhaled deeply outside. Breathe, I reminded myself. Breathe.

I closed my eyes. I hated my temper. It ruled my life. I could barely control my phasing. I wanted to get better.

Opening my eyes, I decided to go back inside and talk to Sam. In private. No way was I going to let anyone see me, the angry Paul Rivers, unguarded.

Of course, the kitchen was also full, and asking for a conversation with Sam in private in front of Jacob & Co. was just as public and flat out embarrassing as talking to Sam in front of them. No, I decided, I would wait, and cool down. In the time I procrastinated, they'd empty out.

It was awful to know that just seeing people happy pissed me off. Couldn't I just feed off their energy? Couldn't I learn to embody what radiated off them? No. Of course not. I had to be Paul Rivers, the raging werewolf with the worst control issues.

I closed my eyes. See? I asked myself. The simplest things piss you off. I growled and struggled. The beach, I thought. If I can get to the beach, I can calm down and think about what to say to Sam. How to explain how much help I need. I wanted to tell the Alpha about my temper and my issues, for the millionth time. I wanted Sam's attention on my problems.

The beach was about two miles away. It didn't take me long to run there. Even in my human form, I was still fast, and very, very fit.

I climbed atop a driftwood tree at First Beach. I must have looked ridiculous, a huge, brawny teenage boy on a pale, crappy tree, but I didn't care. No one bothered to look at the kid with anger management issued. They tried not to.

Up here, it was nice. I could actually think, since the beach was empty. I liked that. No dumb kids goofing around or dumb tourists, snapping away with disposable cameras.

I lost myself in the rhythm of the crashing waves. Maybe I could be happy. Or maybe I was dreaming. Either way, I lost myself, listening to those waves and thinking how to please Sam with my control. Thinking of how to come to terms with me.

I lost myself there, and then, when I realized with a start that a LOT of time had lapsed. I had been numbed by the waves. I should probably get going. Back to anger. Back to life. Back to patrol duty. Back to uncontrollability.

I didn't want to leave, of course. But then again, I did a lot of things I sure as hell didn't want to do—like put up with Jacob and Quil.

And okay, I did that minimally and crappily and best. But still.

Just as I leaped from the tree, I spotted a figure.

It was a girl, all alone. She was muttering to herself, and my wolf ears picked up what she was going on about.

"So much to do! Homework, chores, applications, and Dad's present. If I don't get a present for him, he'll be so upset. Maybe I'll get Eric to help. He'll help pick out something great. He always does. He's so good to me. We should shop later…" Her mutterings trailed off.

I stood on the sand, right near the water, shaking my head. Shut up, I thought. I watched as a wave crashed and dirty yellow foam covered my feet. I was about to turn around, to get going, to run back, but a voice interrupted me.

"Excuse me, hi, but can you move?" The walking, talking girl was not a foot away from me.

I frowned and was all over her in a minute. "Can YOU move. There's plenty of beach. Use it."

"I like to walk this path, on this beach, at this beach. Can you please move?" The girl's expression was now hostile. Her hand flew to her hip.

"Can you not talk to yourself? I have enough in my mind without listening to your voice."

"Dude. Move. NOW."

I growled. No way in frigging hell would this prissy chick boss me around. The slide of fire slid down my back, unbidden. No! No! No, dammit! Not now. Control yourself.

This aggravated me further, my fight with myself. Suddenly, I shifted into the enourmous gray wolf. My paws and sharp claws flew outward. My clothes were up in a whir of scraps. And then, when I looked down from a great distance, my eyesight sharpened, I saw the girl laying on the sand, bloody and unmoving.

Her left side of her body had been hit by my nails. Her face was scraped, her torso bleeding freely. It looked like the brown skin had been torn away.

No. No. This couldn't happen. Once was enough! Sam had already had this happen! I don't- no- it's not- how- My thoughts flew around, unfinished, and I let out and earsplitting yowl. I had damaged this girls' left half of her body.

I wanted to throw up. How could I have done this? I felt like shit, and I hadn't even imprinted on her. I ruined her. I made her like this, bloody and broken.

There was no one to blame but myself. It was all me. I had lost my temper, had phased. It was my thick, sharp claws that broke her skin and raked over her.

The agony gripped me. In my incoherent, desperate mind, I had only one thought: Sam.

I ran back to the house, faster than I had ever run in my life. I burst through the door, phasing, not even bothering to care that I was stark naked.

I could see that the pack looked startled. "Paul! You're la-" Jacob started.

I knew that my eyes were wild. I cut him off. "Where's Sam?" I demanded. "Where is he?"

"Paul, buddy, are you okay?" Seth looked concerned. I shoved it off.

"Where is Sam?"

"Upstairs. Dude, what's going—" I dashed upstairs, not bothering to stick around to here the end of Quil's sentence.

Sam appeared, closing the door of the bathroom behind him. His eyebrows shot up. "Paul." he said simply.

My words tumbled out. That girl needed help. I had just left her on the beach. Anyone could come along and see what had happened.

"Sam, I phased by this girl. I just lost it. I was already mad at myself and I phased and I just… I just… she's bleeding. I left her there. I don't even know her name. She's in awful shape, her left half destroyed. We have to help her, get Sue or someone… to help… Sam…" my frantic voice dropped to a whisper. "I- I think I killed her."