I walked along the side of the street. I was depressed - as always - glad I wasn't dead, but not happy with much else. I never knew why he ran - I had always imagined him saving me, him beating up Liam and Ramon, those two absolutely weak minded werewolves.

Liam, the blond haired Texan, the leader of the supernatural duet. I internally shuddered at the name, the face, the voice. I didn't even want to think of Ramon, he was like the misunderstood villain, that just hung out with the world dominator for college credits.

Instead I thought of the boy that abandoned me, his emerald orbs, boring into my dull blue ones, so full of life and regret, for something as simple as protecting his brother. For something as simple as being a good Alpha. Not exactly my cup of tea being abandoned. Not exactly ideal for the strongest person I knew, mentally and physically, to run. He might have been outclassed, but I had faith in him. That day onward, I think I might have lost my respect for Derek Souza.

That didn't mean he wasn't still in my heart. But him being unable to really save me that time... it didn't mean that you had to leave your friend to be... God only knows what could have happened... and it did happen.

I hate all three of them for this, but the only person I hated more was myself, if I could only be stronger, if I could have been genetically altered in an at least mildly useful way, like being born a werewolf, or being a witch. Hell, if I could just be a shaman, so I could just pretend to run away, astral project so I couldn't feel the pain, be hurt, and tortured as much as they dared, until my spirit, that was wandering, was pure ghost. That sounds like the best option... too bad I'm just a necromancer.

I know these thoughts are useless, and potentially idiotic, but if I could have been anything but a stupid necromancer, that could only use her powers when asleep, completely on accident, it might have made it better, infinitely so. Just for a minute, so I could make an effort. But that wasn't possible... I would have just hurt myself trying.

I made a deal once Derek had gotten away, if I just cooperated, let them do whatever with me, then I could go. They agreed, so naturally, I was violated in the most personal of ways. My innocence was taken into speculation, and it made me feel dirty. I still feel that way today.

So now, about 3 years later, I'm still hoping each dark alley way would only carry things that were a lesser threat than the two werewolves. I had gotten lucky enough, after three months on the street you learn to fight, or at least what is considered fighting. I learned to be an emotionless shell, exactly like Derek, showing nothing to outsiders. I only cried when it got the best of me, when I realized the reason I was so disappointed in myself. I had fallen for him. I had fallen so hard, for the guy that broke my heart in the three seconds it took for him to decide, that this shit just wasn't worth it. It was so much better Changing by himself. To do something that ever scientific and religious law prohibited. All alone with lava flowing through your veins, morphing your own bones, making them form into a canine structure.

That's what made me feel the worst, he seemed like he was actually comfortable if I was there, that going through the pain was worth it just to know that he was still there to keep me safe in the end. Guess not. I guess that whaever I did, it was such a small part that it wasn't useful. That I wasn't useful.

It hurt so much, every time I saw green eyes. Black shaggy hair. It always made me think of that crooked smile, that was well out of use, but stopped your heart when he managed it.

I tried not to care anymore, but I still flinched at deep voices, or someone catching me out of kindness, hoping when I turned, I would see him glowering down at me. A glower was almost better than a smile. It was like an "I Love You" wrapped up with a bow. It was the most beautiful gift ever, and I wished I could see it again.

I turned the corner, mind back on my life, back in reality. The reality where I am walking on the brown and grey cobblestones of a sidewalk, worn and discolored. No more reds and blacks for this old street. Just like me. Dilapidated, broken, but still in use.

I quietly walked into a diner and sat. I wasn't going to eat, but I needed to rest, and in urban towns like this, there wasn't a bench in sight. I grabbed a book out of my jacket's front pocket, and began reading. I didn't pay attention, it was some book, Stephen King, maybe it was Orson Scott Card, I wasn't in the mood to look, or care, not that I ever was.

I looked up from the book to look around the place. People with good lives. Normal lives. Elderly with lavish coats, or youthful with jeggings. All of them looked fairly happy. My stomach growled when my eyes settled on a half eaten cheeseburger someone left on a table, napkin crumpled as they paid, fruitful tips weighted down with a napkin holder.

A waitress came to the table and told me that seats were for paying customers. I sighed and got up grabbing my book, stuffing it in my pocket. I weaved throughout the late night crowds, who were supposedly here to get an apple pie. I made it to the diner door, and trudged out onto the wet street. I pulled my hood up over my now auburn hair. It had been died auburn after that fateful night... I didn't want to risk being seen by them again.

I quickened my pace, when cars crawled along. I was so sure someone was going to offer help, which was never good, but they were only cautious because of the rain slicked streets. I really do miss Derek, but I don't know if I could handle him coming back. I might go all Street Fighter II on him, or something.

As I came upon my recent home, a nicely lit alley, behind a pizza place (score) I saw some things were moved around. Like somebody had been going through my things. I ran to my canvas bag- bought with the remainder of my savings along with two outfits. Nothing was gone... but it looked like someone actually organized everything.

"What the fu-" I started when a hand slid over my mouth, and an arm grabbed me up.

Well, shit.