WARNING: UNDERAGE SEXUAL SITUATIONS, GRAPHIC LANGUAGE, AND REFERENCED ALCOHOL AND CHILD ABUSE. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THIS OR DO NOT ENJOY IT, DO NOT READ.


3:08 AM

Embry Call's POV:

Nigh time really sinks into my bones at three AM. The way the air feels empty and the world is silent, and how alone I feel. Fuck, I felt alone all the time nowadays.

What was I supposed to do, anyway? Sit back idly while everyone else moves fast forward? It's been so long since I've felt a semblance of happiness that wasn't a mask. My friends don't understand, my family doesn't. And especially not her, the girl I slept with last night to feel something other than hopelessness.

Slipping on my long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, I left her house. I carried my sneakers in my hands, the muddy ground cradling the bottoms of my feet like a home I've never known. Soon I'd be back in that house with that woman who was supposed to love me unconditionally and instead threw it in my face that I never did anything right. That I wasn't important or wanted.

Tears leaked out the sides of my eyes, but I walked on, sulking in my little misery.

Three AM, the time when all should be silent except for the wolves and the owls and the foxes. The forest was alive with activity and even with the impending feeling of being stalked like prey, it felt nice to be a part of something. Becoming pack had given me more than strength and agility. It gave me a home.

But it did not erase my previous baggage. Of course, it wouldn't. That would be too easy.

Tiffany Call sat in her La-Z-Boy recliner that she had paid for with her small tax check instead of buying her son new school clothes and snored loudly. A can of beer sat in her hand.

"Emmy, it's just one beer. Stop being such a mood killer!"

How many times had she uttered those same words to me? Hundreds, thousands, millions? Unbelievable. And she was still drinking herself sick every night.

"My father isn't coming back. Why do you blame an innocent child for your shortcomings?" I whispered as I peered down at her, narrowing my eyes. Fists clenched, the wolf right under the surface. It would be so easy to rip her throat out right now and be free of all of this. My hands trembled at the thought.

But I couldn't do that. She was my mother, for fucks sake.

Unclenching my fists, I turned my back to her and went back to my room. If you could even call it that. Plain bed, old hand-me-down sheets. A dresser we had found in Forks in an alley.

I slumped onto the bed, making myself comfortable on the flat pillow and thin sheets. These were the cards I had been dealt with. Shitty parents, a half-brother who ignored my existence, and a supernatural curse that had forced me to stay here.

Being a wolf was great; I became a part of a family and had supernatural powers. But I could not run away from my mother and start a new perfect life. No, I had to protect people. Which included her and all of the other shitty parents in La Push.

Enough complaining, Emmy, my mind whispered. Let's sleep and wake up to a new day.

Would it really be a new day? Would all of my mother's shortcomings finally disappear and would I be able to move to someplace like Los Angeles and become a famous photographer as my father had? Would he finally want me?

Shh, sleep, Emmy.

And so, I did. Nestled on my flat pillow and thin sheets, I let my tears flow freely until my eyes had swelled and my nose had run. And then I let myself finally rest.

To a new day. If you could call it that.