I could feel the warm, salty tears running down my already blistering hot cheeks. It was too late to stop myself. I cried, I bawled, despite the fact that Sam and Paul were there, sitting on the two chairs next to mine. I let my face rest in my hands, and I let myself break down as I sat here in Emily's kitchen; the unremarkable room that bore no offense whatsoever to your average, everyday mortal. Why did this have to happen to me, out of all the people in the world? Why Sam? Hadn't he already suffered enough? Why Paul? If anything, his already short temper was even worse.
"Stupid, damn leeches," I mumbled. Sam put one large, calloused hand on my shoulder in an almost fatherly way.
"I feel the same way about them, Jared. Paul does too. You caught a glimpse of our minds when you phased. We feel the same way. Remember that you're not alone, Jared," he said in that calm, cool, and collected voice of his. I couldn't help but admire the guy. He had gone through the exact same thing that Paul and I had gone through, except worse. There had been no one, no one, there to help him, to guide him. I can't even imagine how much that must've sucked for him. And yet, he didn't seem to be completely absorbed in bitterness, like I was. In fact, I could practically feel the red haze just waiting to cover my sight, and the tremors waiting to creep down my spine.
"Get a hold of yourself, Jared. You don't want to end up like me, now, do you?" Paul sighed. I just stared at him in response, my face blotchy and swollen from my little "episode."
I had phased for the first time four days ago, a week after Paul's first time. When Paul phased, I heard nothing of him for about six days, and he wasn't at school. On that fateful seventh day, I finally found him, hanging with Sam. When he told me he wanted nothing to do with me anymore, that he could no longer hang out with me, I had been furious, more than furious. When I thought about it, thirteen years of being best buds down the drain, just to put it simply, I exploded. In about an hour, when I realized I wasn't a loon, I understood that I was a werewolf; a myth, a freak of nature. At least Paul was my friend again and Sam was a good alpha.
"Jared, I think you and Paul will have to go back to school tomorrow, or the day after," said Sam solemnly, interrupting my thoughts. Paul and I groaned in unison. I hadn't even begun to think about the horrors that awaited us not in the woods, which, apparently, were traveled in by bloodsuckers not unlike the repulsive "Cullens," but in school. People were bound to question us about where we had been, and why we wouldn't be their friends anymore, and now I would have to focus on not turning into a giant, mutant wolf. That had to be worse than ripping some leech to shreds.
"I don't think I'm ready for that yet, Sam," I said, my voice thick with weariness. It was true. It would be me against the world. Sam considered me for a minute.
"Hm. I guess I can give you another week to perfect your self control. Yes, I think that would be a good idea. We can have you phasing and killing all the poor, innocent little normal people," he said, a tad bit of sarcasm coloring his voice. "You too, Paul; no offense, but you've got yourself a few anger management issues."
Paul just nodded, a resigned look on his face. There was no way that he was looking forward to school, either. At that very moment, nothing in the world seemed less important than getting good grades.