Title:Scars That Won't Heal (And The Ones That Follow)

Notes:There were a lot of people who asked me to write another chapter to this story on and off of this site. I wasn't planning on writing one, but a couple days ago the creative juices started flowing through me and I couldn't help but write something after so long. This is unbeta'd so all the mistakes are mine alone. Please Review("Hours to write, seconds to review").

"Anger as soon as fed is dead -
'Tis starving makes it fat."
~Emily Dickinson

Leah sits on the couch watching the brightly flashing television. She wants to ignore her family who've decided to join her; who've decided that this is great moment for a little family time. She loves them, she really does, but everything has been so fucked up lately. She doesn't know what to do except be angry at everyone and everything. It doesn't matter if they caused the problem or not, the whole thing has been blurred together and she almost can't remember why she's angry.

She's almost calm and at peace with everything; the anger is just a far off feeling reverberating deep in her chest, when her mother decides to talk.

"Honey," her mother starts off her voice full of concern, "where's Sam been? You two used to be so close; we always thought wedding bells would follow when you guys graduated."

"We just sorta fell out," she whispers back angrily. Her hands are in hard fists, her nails digging into the couch.

"I'm just worried about you," replies her mother attentively. "You've been so angry lately, and always locked away in your room. I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

"Well maybe that's because you don't," Leah growls out, she's surprised at how angry she sounded to her own ears.

"Don't speak to your mother that way!" Her father barks in an astonished voice.

"You don't know anything about—!" She starts, but stops abruptly. There was something happening and Leah couldn't pin point exactly what it was, but it frightened her. It reminds her of a wild animal's growl, except that's not quite right because it doesn't make a noise it's just a pounding in her chest. The anger inside her keeps increasing. It continues to build up until she feels like she's going to explode, maybe even become something new. Only that's insane, right?

Tears are pooling in the corners of her eyes threatening to leak over the edge as the sadness overwhelms her. Leah thinks she's having a panic attack; she can't breathe or even call out for help. Maybe…maybe she's dying? Is this what dying feels like?

Then the throbbing stops, only the overwhelming anger is still there and she's biting and clawing at the closest thing beside her. She realizes somewhere in her mind that it's not natural for her to be this strong, or be clawing things up with claws.

She doesn't understand what's happening to her. When she finally looks up, her frenzied tearing finished, she vaguely understands two things. The first is that her brother has run off, that doesn't surprise her. The second is that she can see her father on the ground, her mother kneeling over him, and she can smell the disgusting decadent scent of death and tears rolling in like waves on the sea.

Leah doesn't know what to do—she doesn't know what she can do. So she runs. Leah continues to run until she can't run anymore. The anger is starting to subside and the thing inside of her starts to become a deep hum in her chest. She's so tired, she can barely stand. So she doesn't try to, she collapses, blacking out.

When she wakes up she can hear the soft sound of the sea rolling in, back and forth over and over. Leah takes solace in that continuous calming noise and takes a deep breath of the salty air. Then she realizes that she's not supposed to be here, she's supposed to be at home in her bed, not out on the sand.

She wants to scream, but the sound won't come out. She wants to believe that it was nightmare, those vague flashes of something that terrifies her. She hopes that it was a nightmare, like when she was a child and would wake up covered in sweat screaming in terror. But it wasn't a dream, because here she is naked, covered in hard gritty sand.

She knows something happened, but every time she almost grasps it, it slips out of her hand like water through open fingers. She remembers a cushion, and tearing into it, her mother loved that couch, she was going to be in trouble when she got home. Her mother, she remembers her mother was crying, but crying over what?

Then it hits her, and it stings as though someone had hit her. Her father isn't going to be home tomorrow, or the next, or the next. He was never coming back, this thought makes her want to run away and never go back home. She cries out into the night not bothering to hide the pain which grows in her chest. It that makes her feel need to puke her guts out or go drown herself in the cold crystal blue waters of the ocean.

She can still feel the strange animalistic pulsing in her chest and it frightens her more and more with each dull pulse. There was nothing worse then this feeling, except for the emptiness she felt deep in her gut when she thought about how her father was gone—that she had killed her father.

She hadn't killed her father in the literal sense, no, but she might as well have. She had caused him to die, it was her fault. If only she hadn't been so angry, if only this hadn't happened. Leah took a deep breath, as she tried to focus on getting a grip on reality when it was crashing down around her so perfectly.

What was she going to do? There was no way she could go back home now, not after everything that she had caused. She felt tears start to fall down onto the sand and she crashed her fist into the sand grabbing a fistful and squeezing tightly.

Leah turned onto her side letting out a pain filled gasp as she let the sand slowly fall out of her hand in disorganized clumps. She wondered vaguely where she could run away to. She had never traveled and had never felt the need to explore the world as her classmates had.

There are soft footsteps coming toward her, she's surprised that she can hear them over her insesent crying. She doesn't know who they belong to, and she vaguely hopes they belong to someone she knows.

Leah turned toward the sound, her vision was blurry but she could recognize him anywhere, that wasn't someone she was hoping for. She quickly averts her gaze and tries to stop her crying. It doesn't work very well, she's still crying, but now she's breathing out in little painful gasps.

"Go away," she whispers sitting up grabbing onto her knees as she curls into herself. She needs some sort of protection when she feels so mentally naked, let alone actually naked.

"I'm here to help," Sam says awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

"I don't want anything to do with you Sam," Leah growls out. She almost reaches up to push him out of the way, but she finds she can't bare to touch him let alone look at him after the pain he's caused her.

"I know what you are," Sam states. Leah's not looking at him, but she can feel his eyes on her and it still makes her hot all over. This just makes her even more enraged then she already was.

"What do you think I am Sam?" She asks anger seeping through her voice like venom. She waves her arms in front of her like the crazy mad woman she knows she is.

"You're a werewolf," replies Sam, "you're one of us."

Leah flinches, lets out a bitter laugh, a hysterical laugh before she starts crying all over again. She doesn't believe it, she doesn't want to believe it, but she knows he's right. The animalistic feeling inside of her seems to whine happily at the acknowledgement of its existence; she shudders.

"Us?" she asks as the comment suddenly doesn't make sense.

"There are a couple of werewolves in our village, including me, and your brother."

"Seth?" She asks slowly. Her mind can't keep up with what's happening all she can think about is that this feels like some kind of messed up fairytale where the princess doesn't get the prince and turns out to be a monster.

"Although he's taking it a lot better than you are," Sam says as he looks down at his hands and seems to remember that he brought a blanket. He hands it to Leah, avoiding touching her finger tips. "You should head back home and get some sleep; you can meet the pack tomorrow."

She wraps it around herself shuddering at the warmth when suddenly she's angry at him for the pain he's caused her. How dare he just assume that she even wants to be a part of his pack? It probably consists of immature teenage boys who don't understand true pain, who won't understand her.

She finds the inner animal—wolf inside of her start to growl and howl with a need to join the pack. She finds herself listening to Sam, nodding solemnly as she heads back to her house. Sam walks her back, but doesn't lead her up to the doorway; he stays at the end of the driveway silently watching her. Although she wasn't expecting anything to happen it hurts that Sam hates her so much. She pushes the hurt down and replaces it with hate. Hate is easier to deal with then this sadness that takes her by the hand and leads her down to despair.

Leah walks into the house, she focuses her gaze on the stairs ignoring the couch and where her father had lain on the floor. She walks into her room shutting the door firmly behind her. Leah lies on her bed and wraps the blanket that Sam had given her tightly around her body. Until she breaths in deep and acknowledge that the stupid blanket smells like him and she throws it across the room tears flowing down her cheeks.

She quickly dives under her own blankets which smell slightly musky, but they smell like her and not of the boy who broke her heart. Her sadness quickly turns into anger, anger at everything had had ever wronged her, and she makes a promise to herself. She won't get sad anymore, she won't let tears fall from her eyes, she'll angry. Who knows she might even get even.

"Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath."

~Eckhart Tolle