It seemed that a lifetime had passed since anger took her over her permanently, with healthy splashes of bitterness, the tendrils coolly wrapping itself round her senses, engulfing her, choking her, till she could breathe pure emotionless air no longer. But it wasn't real any more, Leah knew it couldn't be real because hell, she didn't feel like ripping off someone's face every time she felt upset. Which, come to think of it, wasn't often nowadays.
Like with Emily ("Is this a sick joke? How dare she even think to suggest such a thing? Is she determined to mutilate the few fragments of my heart that remain whole?") when she proposed making Leah the godmother of their soon to be born child. Leah then later realized with a sinking heart, that she was only being obnoxious for theatrical purposes, and out of habit. (God, you'd think I'd be able to muster up a little more anger at the cousin that stole my boyfriend.) So she went back and accepted watching Sam trying to hide a smile, after extracting a promise the kid would not be named after her in any way, shape or form. Even new theatrical Leah could only take so much.
And Quil ("You know buddy, I'm pretty sure paedophilism is illegal everywhere in America, except maybe La Push, because who the hell would bother consulting this crappy rez?") although he hadn't been angry because he could see her heart wasn't really behind it. Pathetic really. He advised her to 'get herself a boyfriend already because no one was gonna imprint on her here' and she wasn't really that shocked when the pain normally accompanying such a jibe was missing. Huh. As Quil tackled her to the ground she felt strangely light, and, well, free.
Even her best embryo joke went flat, and she was left wondering, ("What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I not physically capable of being mean anymore?") Embry had grinned at her, and slapped an arm around her waist. ("That, dearest beta, means you're finally discovering your soft side.") Much as she had protested that Leah Clearwater did not have a soft side she was given an extra cookie at the weekly pack dinner and she got clapped on the back more times than she could count. It was a damn good thing she was a werewolf because her back would have been broken many times over by now.
Her mother had burst into tears when Leah told her she couldn't give a crap whether or not she married Charlie, as long as Leah got to pick the cake. Leah supposed she could see why her mother was acting thus, having previously condemned the wedding before simply because she sure as hell did not want to be related to Bella Cullen. ("Oh darling, I'm just so happy you're okay.") If this was what okay was, Leah mused, it felt pretty damn good.
And Jacob had hugged her harder than she thought possible after she offered to babysit his imprint with him. When she dragged herself out of his death grip and demanded what the hell was going on, he said, (" You called her Nessie. Not Leech Spawn. Not even Loch Ness Monster. Nessie.")
But it was Seth's response that made her happiest of all. He sat next to her on the porch when she was counting the stars and waiting for her date to pick her up and said simply, without any of his normal exuberance and cheerfulness, ("I'm proud of you."). Leah grinned at him, and decided, no, she wasn't feeling at all bad these days. Must've been those delicious doughnuts Esme knew she was so partial to. She made a mental note to pick up more the next day. (I feel happy, I feel content, but most of all, my chains are broken and I'm flying freely into the abyss.)