Sorry I've been M.I.A. RL takes up time. Anywho, if you're still reading, please enjoy and remember that I don't own any of the characters; I just make them angsty bisexuals.

I guess I should back up and say that I hated her at first.

I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage. -Friedrich Nietzsche

I have no problem admitting it. And before you can judge me or write me off as a bitter bitch, I had a valid reason.

When you grow up on a reservation, you learn real early that preserving the culture comes first. It may not seem like much, but the Quileute nation is all our people have and we're proud of it. The only way to ensure our culture would be passed on was by promising to stick together. That didn't mean we couldn't socialize with others, but it did mean that Quileutes were expected to look out for one another and lend a hand when necessary.

Jake was only five when he lost his mother. In the days following the accident, he and his sisters stayed with my family, cramped as it was. When Billy first came home, it was my mother who cooked dinner and made sure the kids were up on time for school. It was my father and my uncle who helped refit the house with a ramp and other wheelchair-friendly adjustments.

At nine, I was old enough to understand that the Blacks needed our help. Like a good Quileute daughter, I didn't complain when Jake ate the last of the cereal. I didn't punch him too hard when he messed with my. I never teased him for crying himself to sleep for practically a month- possibly more.

During that time, he'd irked me, but he also became my favorite nuisance. He ate my broccoli when my mom wasn't looking. He let us girls have first dibs on the bathroom. He beat up some bully that wouldn't stop messing with Seth because he knew my parents would kill me if I got suspended for another fight.

And when I fazed, Jake was the only one willing to commiserate with me. He didn't get the whole loss of femininity and whatnot, but he got why I felt like a freak. So while Jake and I had never really defined our tenuous friendship, it seemed only natural for me to join his pack when he broke off. I knew he wouldn't be happy, but I also knew he wouldn't turn me away.

We quickly came to an understanding. Without Sam in my head, I was able to stop reliving the painfest as Jake called it. In return, he gave me space when I really needed it and put up with my being in his head no matter how petulant I was being. And yeah, I gave him a hard time and he sure as hell pushed my buttons whenever he could, but we actually liked that about each other. We worked in that weird way because we got each other.

He knew what it felt like to give someone your everything- only to receive your mangled heart back in an unopened envelope labeled 'return to sender'. I understood how you could hate someone for making you love them, and what's worse: we both knew what it felt like to hate yourself because you were too pussy to just move on.

In all honesty, it wasn't Sam that I wanted. It was the plans that I had made. It was letting go of everything I had been so sure of. Sam made me doubt myself and I hated the feeling, so I pushed it back on him. I thought that Jake would realize that what he wanted had always been an impossiblity and he'd let it go. When Bella finally married the leech, I thought Jake would come to his senses.

And then she had to go and get knocked up! I mean, seriously: who the fuck even knew that was possible? Well, I guess if they had, they might have used a condom, but that's besides the point.

The point is, in a split second of some sort of reoccurring nightmare, I was dropped. Again!

And not just for some other girl- or my own cousin for Chr*st's sake-but for a vampire-halfling freak that wasn't even 10 minutes old! I mean, had it been someone prettier, or smarter, or funnier- if there was some reason- I could argue my side. At the very least, I'd have some type of consolation as I mourned the death of my self-esteem, but no. It had to be this imprinting bullshit again. Why did fate feel the need to constantly screw me over?

Then, to add insult to injury, Jake had me running day and night to make sure she was safe when she had her own guard at home. We are Quileute- and not just any plain Redskin from the Rez, but the werewolf gene proved that we were descendants of the founding chiefs, warriors and elders of our tribe. For the love of all things freaky, we're werewolves, not guard dogs. We only had one purpose on this earth, and I'm pretty sure babysitting Dracula's spawn wasn't in the job description.

Jake, however, insisted. He was in love. He was willing to ignore centuries of instinct and align himself with the one creature we were built to destroy for love. He couldn't help who he'd fallen in love with.

Every time he said the word, I wanted to shove it back down his throat until he choked on it, but in the end, I had no choice. Not that Jake would force me with an Alpha command. No, he was much too noble for that. Instead, he reminded me that I always had another option, which only made it more infuriating.

We both knew the truth; there never was any choice. Where else was I going to go? Back to Sam? I'd have hung myself if I'd thought it might do any good.

The ultimate betrayal though, was the fact that Jacob knew he'd hurt me.

With Sam, it was understood that he'd ripped my heart out, but I'd had enough time to swallow the pain and let it metastasize into a ball of hatred. I made sure that I never put myself in that predicament again- or so I thought.

I had planned on leaving and never looking back. Turns out, that was the problem. I had made plans based on Jake. I let myself hope and I should have realized the mistake. This time, though, I didn't have the luxury of time or privacy. There was no point rehearsing lines of nonchalance or convincing myself that I was okay. No matter how much I tried not to think about it in the first place, it didn't matter. Jake knew I was actively trying to push it out of my head, which only made me look more pathetic. One second his thoughts reeked of pity and half-formed apologies; the next, he was elated at the thought of finding his imprint, which pretty much rendered any apology null and void.

So I hated Renesmee instead. I hated her big brown eyes that Jake wouldn't stop thinking about and the way she had him wrapped around her finger. I hated her stupid ass name and her copper curls and her ability to make everyone love her. I hated her more than I'd ever hated anything or anyone in my life, because if I focused all my energy on that, than maybe I could stave off the loneliness that was destined to become my permanent companion.

To those still reading, thank you. I write for myself, and I'm elated to know that other's enjoy it as well. To those of you who have noticed grammatically incorrect phrasing and whatnot, it's not 'cause I don't proofread, but since this is being told from Leah's POV, I write in her voice, grammatical errors and all. That also applies to my use of the term Redskin in this chapter. I'm sorry if anyone was offended, or just found it uncouth, but it was a character choice. I think this Leah would make the tongue in cheek comment. She'd also say that if you don't like it, then what the hell you still reading for?

Leah said that, not me. See you soon.