"And so the sons of our tribe again carry the burden and share the sacrifice their fathers endured before them."

Sons.

"Burden," Quil scoffed in a low voice. "I think it's cool." His lower lip jutted out a little.

Cool.

Yeah, it was just so cool. Hearing every thought of the one you hated, it was just simply amazing.

Seeing, hearing, thinking about everything Sam and Emily did, the love they shared was almost too much.

He used to think about me like that.

And he would've still, if it wasn't for the Cullen's. Everytime I heard that name, I practically ripped someone's head off. That was the name of the family who ruined everything. My future, my heart, my Sam.

A tear rolled down my cheek, my eyes still closed. I swiped it away.

But there was another person, who I hated every bit as much.

Bella Swan.

If it wasn't for her, they would've been long gone.

And maybe, just maybe, Sam would've never imprinted on her.

My cousin.

My sister, practically.

And it hurt so much.

Everyone thought I was bitter, heartless, a bitch. And you know what? Maybe I was. But it wasn't my fault. None of this was.

I had looked for Sam for weeks after his "transformation," not that I had known at the time. But didn't that prove something? That I was completely in love with him? Apparently not, because he ran off with my cousin on Cloud Nine.

God, I wish I could rewind my life. Play the parts with Sam over and over again, never returning to reality. I could wish, but it would never happen.

I had thought about killing myself, in the beggining. Sometimes I thought I'd go through with it, too. But why give Sam an easy way out? Why not make him feel guilty, as he should? Didn't he deserve some kind of punishment?

He was getting some form of punishment now, that I was a wolf.

Wolf.

Becoming a werewolf was the most terrifying, shocking moment of my life. I had felt funny... But who would've ever thought? Not me, ever.

The legends had hinted at such, but nobody thought all of the legends were true. I snorted softly.

In truth, being a wolf would be okay, if it wasn't for the voices, the thoughts that haunted me daily.

When I was a wolf, I could run and run and never get tired.

I could try to run away from my past.

But always, there was the voice, commanding me to come back.

And so I came back. Back to my prison, back to my past.

And that made everything real again.