And now I'm stuck here…In the middle of this mess. It's four in the morning and I'm still trying to figure this out. The whole idea of there being a person specifically made for you creeps me out. Gah!

It's been six hours since Quil told me about imprinting. What a terrible thing. To be trapped and tied to one person without choice. I don't like it one bit. The fact that I am forced to be with Quil for the rest of my life turns my stomach into an aching knot.

How could he think that I would ever agree to such a terrible thing? I don't believe in love. In fact I find it slightly nauseating. Hold the slightly.

I sat in the middle of the floor in my small cramped bedroom replaying the conversation I had with Quil over and over again with no avail of making sense of it. He could be such a prick with timing. I can't scream, although I'd really like to at this point. I didn't even scream when he told me, that he was made for me. That he was in love with me. I just stared him in the face, trying to let the word imprint sink in. What a filthy word it was.

Imprint. I shudder when I think of it. Did I hurt him when I simply said four words in response: "I have to go." Sure every guy wants to hear that when he tells a girl he loves her. I supposed leaving; at practically a run didn't help; even when he was calling my name to come back. He probably had some dumbfounded look on his face when I left him sitting cross-legged in the woods.

Oh God. What did I do? I never meant to hurt his feelings. I just don't feel that way. Quil has always been there. Right there when I needed him. But that was surely brotherly love right? It had never been any more than that.

When I got home my mother and my Aunt Emily were sitting on the couch.

"What's wrong," they ask in unison setting down their cups on the coffee table in front of them.

"Nothing," is all I reply. I stomp my way to the bathroom and lock myself in there. I lie down in the bath tub and pull the curtain, refusing to answer the pleas of my mother and aunt to cone out and talk. They obviously know. It's been no secret to them for years. I lie there for two and a half hours in the cold ceramic tub before concluding that everyone's in bed and it's safe to go to my room.

Here I sit, four thirty in the morning…still trying to grasp with he has told me. Sleep has no will to overcome me. Screaming would be good…but I'm sure at this point I'd wake up half of La Push. Why did we move here? Was it to be closer to him? Ah!

I stretch out of my fetal position, letting my bones and my muscles crack. It feels good to release my body from this tight hold; letting the stress of Quil's words release into my body was a bad idea. I know I'll be sore from it tomorrow. I try to breathe in and out, attempting to rid my mind of the stress that I'm putting on my muscles. Their tension loosens but I have no doubt they'll tense up if I try to stand right now.

Exhaustion washes over me, but I don't dare lie down. The fear that my mother may come and try to check on me in the middle of the night warns me. At least I wasn't making noise. I'm silent enough to be sleeping. I glance at the clock. Its four minutes to six. How could I be thinking about this for so long?

The sun is turning the sky a dusty color, and my room begins to lighten. Thin trails of direct light, emitted from the sun behind my blinds, hit the beige carpet of my room. I know my mother will be up soon, and I'll have to talk to her. There's no running away from her…ever.

I try to come up with the conversation in my head, but I'm not getting anything. She'll ask what he said exactly, and I'll lie. I'll say it was something stupid, like that he's in love with me. There it is, another curse word: Love. Gah! Maybe I'll keep my answers to a minimum. "He told me about imprinting," that's what I'll say. Then I'll try to walk away.

I glance at the clock again. Its seven-forty-five. My mother will get me up no doubt at nine like she always does. Sleep seems inevitable now. I crawl up to my bed, and lie down on top of the covers. At least I didn't cry. There would be no red blotchy eyes for my mother to question. I close my eyes and I immediately succumb to sleep, without will.

"Don't stop believing!" I wake up to Journey playing downstairs in the living room. You have to be kidding me, I think. I look at the clock and it's eight eleven. That was certainly the least amount of sleep I could possibly imagine for how entirely emotionally and physically exhausted I was. Who in their right mind would play such god awful, loud music at eight eleven in the morning? Not that I didn't like Journey, I was just angry that I didn't get forty nine more minutes of sleep.

When the song ends I throw myself from my bed. I'm wearing the same clothes from yesterday, but what does it matter. I sniff twice. Oh, it does matter I smell. I need a shower.

I carry clothes with me to the bathroom. My mother is downstairs with another song playing; therefore I don't creep to the shower. I lock the door and take my time. I'm in no rush to have that conversation with my mother. Forty minutes in the shower and the water turns cold. I must have drained the water tank. Grudgingly I get out and wrap a pink towel around myself. I take more than the usual time to brush my teeth, inspecting them carefully making sure their clean. Finally I conclude that there's nothing else to do but get dressed and go down stairs.

When I enter the kitchen it isn't my mother I see but Aunt Emily, arranging magnets on the fridge. She turns and smiles weakly. My mother immediately bustles out of the laundry room holding a basket of clothes. She gives me the same weak smile.

Oh god, the weak smile. I hate it so much. Emily's eyes focus on something behind me but I don't have time to react. I'm immediately confused, my head is being covered with a bag and I'm being picked up by someone. Their arms are extremely hot, and I struggle against this person, but it's no use. They are much stronger than I am. I make a feeble attempt at screaming but it's no use. The arms are holding me so tightly that I can barely breathe.

I feel my weight being shifted to one side and a door opens. I can smell the fresh air coming from the trees, the wilderness scent. We're outside now. I continue to struggle against this body, but come up with nothing. There is undying strength. My weight is shifted once more and another metal door opens. I'm shoved, released from my captor, into something hard. It's rough fabric covering something. Plastic maybe? It's not hard enough to leave a bruise.

I'm lying sideways now, in between something soft like a cushion and more carpet covered plastic. I try to sit up but something soft but firm slams down trapping me in my own personal cave. I was horrified, but I started to calm. Emily and my mother had been right there, I would have heard them protest to me being taken.

With my hands freed I remove my mask, but it's still pitch darkness. I hear an engine turn over, and I realize that I'm in a car, probably wedged into the space where you usually put your feet. I stay quiet, listening for other audio clues with no avail. I exhaled deeply.

Sometime later I realize that the car is beginning to slow and I become slightly thankful. This position I'm in is incredibly uncomfortable. I prop myself up on my elbow and try to push up on what's covering me, but there's little success.

The truck stops and I hear a grunt. My kidnapper is a male I conclude. The door to my cave opens and something slides above me before the top of my little box it removed.

"Sorry Claire I had to do it or you wouldn't come with me," Jacob's scruffy voice said. The light flooded into my cave and Jacob helped me up with ease. I follow him for a while, walking because I have no idea where I am to run and I'm certain that Jake would catch me even if I tried. I'm not fooled by his tall stature and obvious strength. I was skinny and weak compared to him.

We walk for a good twenty minutes. I'm not inept at hiking through the woods uphill, but Jake was obviously holding back. The path starts to flatten and I realize that we're up on the big flat rock I'd seen Quil and his friends jumping from. Cliff Diving he called it. Something stupid he did trying to get killed. Another word I note as dirty.

"Are you going to throw me off to my death?" I joke sarcastically. Jake sits down on the grey shale, and signals for me to do the same. I know there's no avoiding this conversation this time, but part of me wishes it was with my mom and not him.

"Claire," Jake begins exhaling deeply, roughly rubbing his right hand over his face and curling it to a fist around his chin. "They asked me to do this, before they said anything."

"They?" I interrupt him.

"The pack, Emily, Rachel, your mom," he replied.

Pack. The word registered as another curse word in my mind. Quil told me that he was a werewolf when I was sixteen. It didn't bother me, as long as I never had to be apart of it. I think about when I stopped hanging around Quil when he told me. He got a little depressed, but it's not like I needed him like I did when I was a kid. I can take care of myself.

It wasn't until a little over a year later that I needed Quil again. I had gotten myself a little drunk at a little party, and he came and drove me home. When I pleaded with him not to tell anyone, he agreed as long as he could see me mire often to make sure I was alright… which caused me to drive and see Quil everyday after school for and hour before going home. When I graduated I stopped going over there. I spent my time with my friends.

"Quil," Jake begins again. "Quil didn't mean to freak you out. I mean- after the werewolf thing, you seemed distant to him but he thought you'd adjust."

"Two years later and I still think it's ridiculous," I say. And I notice that Jake's a little offended by this.

"Yeah well we're just protecting you," he mumbles staring down at the ground.

"Sorry," I breathe.

"How do I explain this to you? They thought it would be better from me, because you can ask me the things about imprinting that I know you won't ask Quil, and whatever you say won't really offend me that much."

"Jake, what do you want me to say?" I ask; I'm not in the mood to do the side step around this conversation. I want it to be over with.

"I don't know Claire, do you have and questions?" he stumbles around this question but finally gets it all the way out.

"What kind of questions should I have?" I ask because I don't know what is acceptable to ask.

"Then can I ask you questions?" Jake asks this time more smoothly.

I only nod and shift my weight, the rock is very uncomfortable.

"Why'd you run away? When he told you I mean."

"I don't know, maybe because I didn't know how to respond to that I mean," I admit. It feels odd to be so honest with Jake but I ignore it, though I know it'll all travel back to Quil once in wolf form. Stupid telecommunication.

"Respond? He told you he loves you. All girls want to be loved," he says but his face cringes as he knows it's a lie.

"Not all girls want to be loved. I don't believe in that-love I mean," I say.

"Why not?"

"It's contrived. I'm eighteen. I don't need a boyfriend, not now. I don't think I'll need one in the future. And even if Quil loves me by fate now, he's forced. I don't want him to love me by force. I don't think that's right," I inhale. Those words come out way too fast for my liking. I don't think them through before I say them.

"It doesn't feel like force to him. I would know," Jake tried to reassuring without much success.

"Oh yeah, Renesmee," I say reminded of the girl who's I saw him with last time he was in La Push. Jake's only back for the summer, and I know it's because he's trying not to get killed by her vampire father. It must suck for the father of your girlfriend to be able to read your thoughts about her.

"Yes, I imprinted on Nessie the moment I saw her. She completes my life. Before her I was angry and confused about this girl I had a crush on, but the moment I saw her I knew that there was a reason to make it through losing the girl I liked for the girl I loved," Jake says relaxing back on his arms. "It's not something we can control, but we accept it and life's better that way.

"And although there are times when her father would much rather have me dead, I know that I would have no life without her. And that Claire is exactly how Quil feels about you."

"Don't say that," I say sternly. I never want to hear a guy say something like that.

"Why not? It's not like he feels forced to love you. All he knows is that he does, and that that's the way it is. He's happy with that."

"Fine. Are we done here?"

"No. Claire, do you want to hurt Quil?"

"No!" I practically scream. "I don't want to hurt him. I'd rather we were just acquaintances. Like he's my old babysitter- like he is- and we run into each other rarely over the years. I have no need to see him. I leave for college in two months, and I don't need Quil."

"Claire, Quil will be whatever you want him to be. He's made for you, like I'm made for Renesmee, but it hurts him that you don't want him around- that you don't need him around."

Then I start to cry, not because I want to but because I'm running on little sleep, and the past twenty four hours have been emotional draining.

"Why does he have to love me?" I choke out. Jake comes over to comfort me but I lean away.

"Imprinting and Love go hand in hand for werewolves," he tells me.

"Jake," I say and stop crying immediately. "I'll talk to Quil later if you let me go home and sleep."

Jake obliges and lets me sit in the front of the truck this time and not under the mattress that held me into my cave below. He drives me up to my Aunt Emily's house, and I'm angry that he didn't just take me home.

"You didn't really think after kidnapping you I'd take you home without getting some sort of ransom did you?" he asks jokingly.

I get out of the truck and stomp to the house, Emily's already there with the door open, muffins in hand, giving one to me and four to Jake as he follows me into the house. He's only in there for a minute grabbing Sam, his two sons Laker and Tripp, Paul, and Jared- the pack members who imprinted. They all exit the door and I hear the truck rev up and drive away.

I'm baffled by their instant departure that it takes me a minute to look around. The first word that comes to mind is intervention. Another word to add to my list, I note. Aunt Emily, Jake's sister Rachel, Kim, and another who I identify as Renesmee stand in front of me in the kitchen, all huddle around the counter facing me. Resnesmee doesn't have the russet colored skin of the rest of them but she is pale and beautiful.

"Claire, we know Jake told you about imprinting from the wolf's perspective but we wanted to share with you for our perspective," Emily begins to say. Her face is compassionate and she gives me the same weak smile she gave me earlier.

"No," I interject immediately. I'm not spending my whole day wrapped up in this mythical crap. I don't want anymore werewolves, anymore love, any more imprinting, or vampires, or half breeds. "I'm going to walk home now. None of you are to follow me, unless you want to give me a ride but you can't talk to me. I am not doing an intervention," I command before turning quickly on my heels and leaving the small house.

I walk for about twenty yards before I see Emily and Renesmee running after me to catch up. I'm fast. I know I am. I won the State championship for marathon running last year. I'm glad I'm wearing tennis shoes otherwise I'd have no traction. I push off from the ground hard, and start running at full pace, exerting myself as hard as I can. I make it to the woods before I see that someone has caught up with me. No one is that fast, I think. But then I remember. Renesmee is not human like I am. Quil told me a long time ago that she was one of a kind. Her father is a vampire and her mother was a human, until her father changed her into one of his kind.

I never really got into the vampire and werewolf war. It's all mythical and unrealistic. Although I really know that they exist, I choose to ignore it.

I slow knowing that Renesmee can probably out run me with some sort of supernatural strength. When I skid to a stop in the woods I sit on a fallen tree, and the rain begins to fall lightly. Renesmee comes to sit by me. I stare straight ahead ignoring her questioning stare. Ever so lightly she touches her hand against my face.


A/N:

I was once kidnapped the way Jacob does here. In fact the person who kidnapped me was named Jake as well. (btw…it was for a surprise party, after he scared me half to death)

anyways...my first and probably my only Quil/Claire. Leave love if you like it. I sort of abandon another story periodically to write it.