I own nothing

My apologies in advance for any typos or errors made.

"You can join us in a world filled with magic and beauty, Emily. Your lucky, not many humans get that," Sam murmurs, persuasively, lovingly.

I take a sharp breath in shock, I feel affronted and seriously offended. How dare him. This world was no better or more beautiful, than my regular reality. And I might be lucky but not because I get to join a band of dogs. Yes I am human, puny and weak, but I have freedom and freewill, things I realise now apparently have so much more significance than I had once believed.

The pack have to sacrifice such generous gifts to keep the people they love safe, to have claws, fur and supernatural speed, fate had to balance it all out (we all know how fate loves to keep things fair) by stealing their opportunities from under them, cursing them with tempers and obsessive personalities, by making their lives hard. But I'm not deluded, I know even after all of that, they would never change a thing, they would mope, growl and abandon people who love them for the rest of eternity if it meant they could fly through the trees with their brothers. I think that knowledge aggravates me most of all.
But still, I could fly through the sky with my family, to any place I want, for a month, for a year, for the rest of my forever. I am not shackled to La Push, held prisoner in the town's faux perfection, where the people might be in love but they were not asked if that's what they wanted.
I could go to college; I could learn party, get drunk, dance until I passed out, hate whomever and love whoever loved me. They couldn't, sometimes due to their size and structure- it would take would take gallons to get a were-wolf drunk.
But mostly because they didn't have a choice in lots of things, their imprint could be a mass, racist, drug dealing, murdering, raping, homophobic, home wrecker and they would still kneel at her feet and claim until their very last breath that she was just misunderstood. Sometimes you needed to hate, or at least have the choice to hate (or maybe not, maybe that's just me), you need to see someone as what they are and make your own judgement.
They don't see this as injustice though, they don't see how frail and fake their love is when it can't grow, when you love her before you even know her, when the things that you have in common are completely irrelevant, when you're in love with someone you've never shared or created memories with, when you can't see her faults, dislike them and love her anyway, when you don't get to slowly and eventually after secure, trusting time fall radically and irrationally in love with them. (Leah had that love and now because of me she doesn't.)

For them their whole existence swivels one day- they lose themselves, they're obsessed with some one they don't know, and broken hearts don't hold a flame of importance to anything. They love her after the first millionth of a second they glimpse her, loving her but not liking her. And that's not okay. It baffles me why they can't see that.

They have neither free will nor freedom and I would rather be human any day because I can see how cruel fate is for tricking these dogs into thinking they've lucked out when really I've never seen a more pitiable site. Everything the pack touches deteriorates and it's dangerous how little they can see it.

And this knowledge is satisfying and calming but not better. It helps me not hate myself so much, helps me not hate Sam as much, but it doesn't help rid the anger and grief crushing my body. It's great and all that I have it better than those mutts in some ways: I can go anywhere I want, think what I want, say what want, love who I want, hate who I want, do what I want. But the only thing I really want is for everything to be as it were and I can't have that.

"Thanks, but don't get me involved with this freak show next time, I'm not interested," I snap venomously as I stagger from Sam, I feel like I'm drifting away, I am lost and despised and my absolute despair threatens to register on my face. In a sudden display of clumsiness I trip unceremoniously over something on the haggard, tired forest floor. I snarl of discomposure breaks through my sealed lips, it brings me to my senses and I realise with bitter thankfulness that I am angry, more angry than I have ever been before, more angry than I have a right to be. I feel it right in my gut, boiling and burning inside of me, like a raging volcano rumbling and warning me that it's time. It makes me physically tremble in desperate frustration, tears push at the back of my eyes, my throat aches and I swear I am going to explode if I don't let it out in some way. What I really want is to get into a fight- a real fight with punches and kicking and clawing and screams- until I bleed, until I can cry and blame it on the pain rather than a broken heart that I was never meant to have, because I am the villain, my heart shouldn't be bruised in the slightest as I am the one who betrayed my own blood, remember?
And with that anger comes a sense of deep loathing towards the whole of god damn La Push, for breaking Leah and making her hate me, because it isn't my fault, it isn't my choice or my actions because if they were mine I would choose Leah rather than Sam a billion times over, because we are sisters. Sisters are sisters and even in jealous rage, half-betrayal and shame we should clasp each other and not let it tear us apart, but it has and I blame Sam for that. Sam the man that Leah obviously loves more than me. That knowledge hurts so much because it proves that if the roles were reversed I might choose Leah but she wouldn't choose me. I blame Sam for that also.

Please review x