It's an interesting feeling, watching the one you love die. Interesting mightn't be the word I'm searching for, but there's really no better word for it. They held me down and forced me to watch them kill her. It still haunts me to this day. The way she screamed and begged for help. I never would have thought such a strong girl could become so submissive. But now, she's dead. And sometimes, just to spite myself, I replay her death in my head. No one else seems to be as affected by her death as I am. Probably because they didn't think of her that well. Her brother was crushed. I hear him crying upstairs, right now. Even though it's been near a century since she left us in this hell called life, leaving him, leaving me. I don't know how much longer he or I can take this. The way everyone casts us these disgusted looks as if we are scum on the shoes of scum. I see him falling apart, which is why I keep strong, if only for him. The last words, upon the request of them forcing her to say something for her last words, she said to me were 'Please, love him like you love me… Love him like a lover… I love you.' I am dutifully fulfilling my dear's request and, in time, I've grown to love him more than I loved her. But still, I hear everything she ever said to me when he cries. And then, I hear her last words. So now, I head upstairs to comfort him and love him all better. As I walk, they give me these nasty looks, like I'm betraying her. But they heard her last words as well as I. So they've no right to look at me like that. Maybe they look at me like that because I take her words to heart for him. I am slowly walking up the stairs… Slowly, slowly walking, making sure he hears my every thought. I hope he knows how disgusted I am with him, because he treats me this way, I hope he knows I'm glad his baby died while being born, I hope he knows that, given the chance, I would go through my life again and I would kill all of them before they could ever touch her. I hope he hears every thought I am thinking right now.
Judging by the look on his face, he hears. He hears loud and clear. And he rushes down the stairs to tell the others. They are now in outrage as I reach my darling's room. I open the door and silently step in. The only sound that alerts him to my presence is the shutting of the door and the click of the lock locking. He looks up at me, his eyes slightly red, tears still streaking down his face. He opens his mouth to talk to me. I shake my head and hold a finger to my lips. My darling doesn't need to explain. I understand. And were our roles reversed, I would be doing the same. I completely understand what he goes through every time someone mentions us and The Massacre. And her. Every time someone mentions her, he is like now, and I am like now. He is my darling, my sweet, innocent angel, still wondering why the world took her from him. And I am like this, stone-faced, cold to them, the greatest thing since her to him. I make my way to his bed and hold my arms out, smiling at him sadly. He throws himself into my arms, crying harder than before. I draw circles on his back with my hands while I kiss his forehead. I hold him to me, needing this as much as him. I kiss his face gently, hoping to make him feel better with my mere presence. He tells me something. He tells me the experience I have. He says he feels her here, with us, and he talks to her when I am not here to be his comfort. He says he tells her how much he loves me, and how much I love him. He says she tells him she is glad I love him more than I loved her; she says this is because when she lived, she felt he and I were right for each other. He says he loves me more than God loves this earth he created. I tell him I love him so much more than that. I then tell her, if she hears this, that she will always have a special place in my heart, though it is much like I feel for a sister. I tell her I treasure her, that I need her support to help me keep going. I tell her and him that it is hard for me to be strong for him and me. I tell them that I love them so much, but it is hard to be in this house, where they treat him and I like traitors or scum. And then, I tell them that I have contemplated suicide, just to be with her, but then I tell them that after these thoughts, I remember him and how much he needs me and how much I need him.
And then, the strangest thing happens. I hear her speaking to us. She tells us… She tells us she loves us and is proud of us for holding out for so long. She tells him that she cannot stay here on Earth and must return to heaven, but she promises him she will watch over us both. She tells me that she is happy for me and that I should keep holding onto life, just for him. She tells me to promise to protect him. I tell her that even if she didn't make me promise, I would anyways. She tells him to protect me from them. He promises that he will and that she needn't ask him to promise. And she tells us goodbye. Suddenly, I feel like something is missing again. And he holds me tighter and cries harder. There is a knock on the door and one of them calls our names. My darling ignores the one on the other side of the door and asks me to love him. I tell him I love him more than anything could ever fathom loving something else. Another knock. My darling hisses at the door and tells them to go and die. I hold him to me, kissing his face and he asks me to love him again. I tell him I will love him always. He asks me to make love to him. I heard soft footsteps vanish from outside his bedroom door and I respond positively. I tell him I will make love to him forever if he requested it.
It is now morning; he is nestled against my body, the shapes of our bodies fitting perfectly together. He is just waking from his peaceful slumber. He looks beautiful, as he should and always will. I kiss him chastely on the lips and give him a good morning. He snuggles closer to my body and repeats my greeting.
"I don't want this moment to leave, Jacob," he whispers to me. I smile at him.
"Nor do I, Seth, nor do I," I reply softly.
"I love you, Jacob Black," he mumbles against my chest.
"And I love you, Seth Clearwater," I coo back.
"And I love Leah too," he adds.
"Always, Darling, always. I too shall always love Leah," I reply.
Fin