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Karma Favors the Imprinted
"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief."
~~ Aeschylus
BAM!
The sound of the collision pulled me out of my subconscious as my body lurched forward, smashing into the glass.
I did have a good reason for not looking where I was going, though. Several reasons, in fact.
I mean, seriously, after all that I've been through, can't I get a little free time to sum up what just happened to me?
Don't I, the supposed 'namesake', have any say?
Apparently not.
Sure, it's their child. And sure, he's the love of my life, but she's his imprint, so she is the one who gets to decide all of this, not me. Not even her son-of-a-bitch husband has a say in the matter.
This is seriously, in the words of Stewie Griffin: Not cool, man, not cool.
And to think that she was (once)my best friend.
"Leah?" her voice breaks through my thoughts, thin and wispy, like a breeze. I grind my teeth, mentally wishing her a painful existence. I wasn't that cruel. Taking a deep breath, I put on my best smile - I guess you could call it a smile- and shifted on the couch in order to face her.
"Yea, Em?" I answered, turning my head slightly, all the while trying not to let the acid seep into my voice. Not the easiest task, let me tell you.
She smiled sheepishly, nervous. As she should be. Being in the same room with a werewolf should give you that feeling. Oops- I mean shape-shifter. HUGE difference, apparently. Fuckin' leeches. I'm surprised none of us have done ourselves in- Quil, for example, loved the fact that he's a werewolf. Or 'was' I guess.
Now, being in a room with me, Leah May Clearwater is only a bit- just a tiny little bit-more hazardous. Just a bit.
Now, given that fact, it's usually only my fellow wolves - shape-shifters, my bad-, the imprintée's, and/or the elders that 'hang' with me. I would, honestly, rather be left the hell alone.
But Emily isn't just any imprintée. She's Sam's. His one-and-only, his so-called 'soul-mate'. But HE was mine, not hers, nor the packs- MINE. And for her to just- just take him? What the fuck?! She's my freaking cousin, like a sister to me, yet she had the nerve to sleep with him? My SAM?!
Coming to visit me, his real love, was asking for a death sentence.
Gah, I hope they rot in Hell. Sick bastards.
"I was wondering," she started, wringing her hands, "if you would help me decide on a name for the baby - I can't think of any good ones."
My head snapped sharply; facing her full on, my eyes bored into hers. "Me, Em? You honestly want me to help you think of names for you and Sam's baby?" I asked, incredulous.
"Only if it's convenient," she said quickly, "I can always ask Aunt Sue, or Mrs. Uley if you don't want to-"
"No." I said, cutting her off, "I'll help. I want to."
The smile that exploded across her features was filled with gratitude, happiness, but most of all, love and care. I turned away. It seemed that the only person who didn't understand that I didn't deserve anything was Emily. And she just kept giving.
And it's not like I wanted what she had to offer. I want the one thing she can't live without- Sam.
I figure that, someway, somehow, eventually, I'll get over him, forget, and forgive the two of them. But not before I apologize for being such a bitch. And I can't do that yet. I'm not ready.
"So . . ." I started, feeling a bit awkward- Hell, who wouldn't?
"Is it a boy or a girl?" I patted the spot next to me, offering her a seat because the girl was massive; she looked like she was about to pop.
Another smile, smaller and more wholesome and deserving than the last, spread across her once beautiful face. Yea, I said it. She's no longer beautiful. But don't judge me, ok? She was given a would-be mortal wound, it left horrific scars, and here we are today. I'm not being mean or anything (for once); just saying it as it is.
She gave me a loving look, proudly announcing "We're having a girl." She paused, gently running her hands over her swollen abdomen. "A beautiful baby girl," she cooed. I felt a pang of jealousy run through me, and it took almost all of my concentration not to attack my cousin. She looked up suddenly, right into my eyes.
"Something unique, okay Leah? I want it to be unique, but I want it to signify something. It has to be something important- almost exactly, but not so that it's inconsiderate." She cocked her head, studying me. My eyebrows rose.
"Like . . . What?" she suddenly looked nervous.
"You probably won't agree with me, but-"
"Just spit it out, Emily! What do you have in mind?" I was agitated. Something was off. I didn't realize it, but my body was trembling slightly; I guess my instincts knew what was happening before my mind did. Wasn't the first time that happened.
She took a deep breath, and then looked up. Her eyes told me that she was sorry. That she was hoping. Why? I had no idea. She wanted me to listen. I could give her that. I'd already given her so much as it is.
"Leah," she sighed, "I want to name her- Sam's daughter- after you." I stared at her, open-mouthed. I couldn't say or do anything. Going into shock does that to a person.
"Now," she started, defending, "I wouldn't name her exactly after you. That's just cruel. But I do like the name . . . May Rosa Uley."
Silence.
Wait, wait, wait. So using my middle name wasn't cruel? Does pregnancy induce lack of tact?
It felt like someone had ripped out my heart, torn it into little pieces, and burned it. And then, just to rub it in, gave me the ashes.
"Leah?" I heard Emily ask, "Leah? Are you okay?" That's when I lost it.
"Am I OKAY?!" I snarled as I threw myself to my feet, glaring at her; Emily: the woman who stole the love of my life and then asks me if she can name their child after me. "HOW DARE YOU?! AFTER EVERYTHING WE- I . . . YOU- AND SAM! AND, AND, AND-" I choked, a sob ripping itself from my lungs. Emily, who had curled into the couch, cowering, slowly unraveled herself. She reached a tentative hand out, trying to calm me down; to get me to sit down and talk it out with her.
Pft. She's truly sick. Worse than Sam.
I jumped back, trying to get myself as far away from her as I could.
"No!" I shouted, backing away, "How could you, Emily? You're like my sister! How could you ask me that? How could you do this to me? How could you, my cousin, my- my-" I broke off again, another sob consuming me.
I shuddered.
I looked at Emily. She had tears in her eyes, her arm still extended towards me. My emotions, twisted and knotted as they were at the moment, quickly morphed into anger. To hatred. To pure fury.
"Traitor." I spat, and ran out of there, ignoring her pleas and apologies. My keys were in the ignition. I could get away. It could be faster, you know, being a wolf and all, but I wasn't going to take the chance of one of the guys hearing me. Hearing my memories. My thoughts.
Sam and Jacob were going to be pissed.
Jacob at least could understand. He can relate: If Bella would've told him what E. J. stood for, he'd have reacted the same way I had. The way I'm acting right now. Hell, I don't even understand why she told me. Something about how "Jacob has always been important." Whatever. Had he known, the Cullen's would probably be short a family member. But we're better trained now. It takes really big stuff to set us off. Like this.
So here I am, slouched over the seat in my car, blood gushing from a wound over my eye. Or it was, at least. Super-fast healing is one of the perks of being a wer- shape-shifter. But none of the pros make up for the cons.
I shift slightly, and feel an ache in my ribs. Shit. Something broke. I try to lift my arm, but realize its throbbing. Bad sign. How many bones did I break? I debate whether or not I should try to get up and inspect the damage - both to me and the poor thing I hit.
My breath catches in my throat; what did I hit? Please, please, please don't let it be a living creature. Please. I move my head, causing a head rush, and look through the windshield. Well, what's left of it, at least.
I feel a wave of relief role over me as I see the only life I ended was that of the small fir that was now sticking halfway through my window; the other half- the roots- seemed to be suspended in midair. Crap. This tree wasn't doing anything, and then I go and murder it. Violently, too. Damn.
I groan, and try to sit up. Ouch. Didn't see that piece of metal there. Ow, ow, ow. It got me right on the forehead. I hiss as the blood pours over my eyes; I see crimson and feel a stinging pain as it makes contact with my actual eye. Damn this hurts.
I slump; placing my head on the arm rest. I don't even realize how contorted my body is, seeing as my head is on the driver's armrest.I didn't even think it was possible to be so flexible. Ssss, can't adrenaline act as morphine in extreme times? Then why isn't it working?
I sigh; there we go.
"You know what?" I say to myself, "I'm just gonna hang around here for a while. Take a nap or something."
I attempt- attempt being the key word here- to look around, quickly surveying my surroundings.
I'm by a forest. Great. That narrows it down. And a nuclear green one at that. Just perfect! I sigh, and look at the stretch of road that I had veered off of. Route . . . Where's the freakin' sign? You bother keeping the road a clean gray and yellow, but don't have a sign?! Seriously?!
Damn. Well then that's it, I guess.
I'm screwed.
And for some odd reason, I'm perfectly okay with that.