Heyy Dromeda is back. Well I hope ya'll like this new twilight fanfiction and please visit my profile and read all my stories and please tell me by reviewing how ya'll feel about them.

So long me mateys :* Happyy Reading

Sometimes it just felt so tempting to sink that paper cutter I had in my hands over my throat, forever silencing the weak beating in my chest. It would be so much easier; I'd be nothing but a pale memory drifting in this vast world. Sometimes I feel that every single thing that I try to do falls on deaf ears. It makes me feel worthless and as I stare at the new bodily harm I have caused myself, I feel sickly proud that I have managed to do at least something successfully. The slashes made by the paper cutter, flash scorching bright red on my hand as a few drops of blood leak out of them.

I try to hold the tears at bay as the wound burns and hisses when the water from the running tap flows on it. Slowly after sometime the pain dulls into a throb and I stare in shock at the words I have managed to do to my wrist. What was I thinking! What will mom say when she sees this we are supposed to be moving to a new city put all our past behind us. I push these thoughts to the side of my head as I fall back down on the sofa mulling over the fight I had with my mother in the afternoon; the thing that drove me to cut myself. The cause of the conflict, I refuse to move to La Push, even though my mother is Red Indian, I love Oregon too much and I don't want to move to some weird reservation and hand out with my Uncle Sam and his girlfriend Emily.

I huff and move slightly to dab the wound with savalon, and searing hot pain runs through my whole body and this time the bay isn't strong enough; sobs wrack through my body as I clutch my hand close to my chest trying to block out the pain but failing to do so. I cry out louder as the pain gets even worse and now feels like white hot coal branding my skin. The scars will stay there forever tormenting me every single day of my miserable life that is, if I survived this gruesome pain I am going through. My breath comes out in slow rasps as my stupid subconscious decides that it'll get better if it gets much worse. My bloody fingertips feel their way to the discarded paper cutter; the cause of my pain. But I don't resent it; in fact the pain helps me drown all the tortures I face in my life, it makes me feel that there are worse things than what I have experienced; this drives me to hang on to hope no matter how small it is. Stabs of pain hit me as the cutter once again slices through my once soft skin, tearing it apart to reveal the red liquid that hides and runs underneath it. I hiss as the pain spreads through my body reaching every part of it and I let out a sigh, this part I am thoroughly used too.

The sick psychotic side of me roars in triumph as the proud smell of the iron rich liquid infiltrates my senses making my nose crinkle. This same sick side urges me to lie down of close my eyes and let this addicting feeling of pain overtake me, it creeps slowly around my head in this hazy fog and as I inhale it; it consumes me completely. The sane part of me feels a little uncomfortable when I do this, I feel its small voice poking at me murmuring that I should stop but this psychotic side charges and knocks that voice over completely as I slip deeper into this pain induced high. The last thing that I register is a sinister sound which cause a trickle of fear and thrill run down my spine as it says "Yes, sleep away Aiyanna, feel that pain seduce you, pleasure you, you know you want it to," and I fear that this voice may be coming from … Me.

The rain water trickles down from the windows and I trace their path with my ring finger. My scarred wrist thoroughly bandaged and enclosed in my favorite blue jacket I turn to my mother to ask her, "How much time till we reach the reservation mom." She frowns and looks at me as a rush of envy rushes through me. My mother is naturally pretty, with the tanned skin and long nose she pulls of the classy yet stern look with élan. Whereas I have creamish skin a small nose and big lips which makes me feel very different from her. Luckily we both have the same big doe-like brown eyes ,the only part of my face with I actually don't hate.

"Well as far as I can remember Aiyanna it was right around this corner, Ohhh there it is and there's Samuel." She says with relief as I see Uncle Sam stare at us from a distance and as we approach him a smile breaks out on his face and he jogs towards us and before mom can open the door he sweeps her into a hug laughing. I am quite glad to see mom happy after a long time so I smile a little as I here Uncle Sam addresses her with his pet name Ena, her actual name is Enola which means solitary but Mom being older than Uncle Sam, his baby pronunciation was messed up and hence the name Ena stuck. I pull my nineteen year old body out of the van as I trudge toward then only to have a huge figure hug me and knock the air out of my lungs.

"Aiyanna, you grown so old, it feels like yesterday when you would run around crazily with Collin Littlesea."

"Ca-n't bre-the." I say in a strangled voice when he leaves me and looks at me smiling. He picks up all our bags with ease which has me frowning, we have at least 7 duffle bags each jam-packs but I shrug the thought out of my head as I tighten my jacket and head to meet my extended family .

Heyyy well that's that please REVIEW ! my first wolf/oc imprint

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