A/N: Me NO own Covenant. Got it? Okay.

Onward we go…

"Renew"

Here I was again- laying in a bed, rehashing old images in my head. Alone. Granted, this time it wasn't what Reid had done to me, or any other petty things. My memories and the images they produced were of my times with Anna. My friend was dead, and I was ready to go with my parents to the funeral.

Anna's funeral was attended by many of Spencer's elite. Chief among them were, of course, myself- the last person to see her alive, her teachers who had seen all of her potential and loved her near-like a daughter, a few gawkers and onlookers. Those who desired material for gossip- "Did you hear that Anna's little friend fainted at the funeral?" I could already hear it and the consequent "reasons" for my collapse ringing in the halls of Spencer.

Caleb was also there. He was the only one out of them all that I didn't view as an unwelcome visitor. He was one of the people who saw Anna as more than just a pretty face and hot body. He had gotten to know her on the inside, and he loved her. I could tell by the way he was holding himself- slightly apart from his 'brothers' and everyone else. The only time I ever saw Caleb Danver's break his stoic outward appearance, the only time I had seen him cry, was at Anna's funeral. Poor Caleb. He was a sinking ship just like I was. At least he had his brethren and other points in his life to help him bail out the water. I had no one except myself with a really tiny bucket. I was floundering without Anna.

Everyone else there didn't deserve to be here in Anna's last moments above ground. After all, where had they been all of her LIFE? Had they really gotten to know her and see her for the amazing person she was? Was she their best friend?

No-No-No. That chant haunted my brain.

That was the true reason for my collapse- for the fainting. Anna wasn't there to hold me up anymore.

It was after Anna's funeral that my parents decided to "ship me away." Okay. I'll be fair- those were my words, but they did think that I should get away from this place. Get away from all of these memories so that I could try to heal myself.

They decided to ship me off to my relatives on the west coast. They were the only relatives that had enough money so that my 'lifestyle' wouldn't be disrupted, and I'm sure my parents figured that the memories couldn't get me with a continent between us.

So, after two weeks of moping in my room with the curtains closed, I was on a plane from Massachusetts to Washington to stay with my mother's sister. My aunt and her husband were very kind to me during my "transition" allowing me to spend my days cooped up in "my" room, only escaping it to get meager rations of food. After letting me get on with it for a week or so they got sick of my actions, and decided to send me to the therapist.

That's pretty typical of elders, isn't it? Can't handle it yourself? Why, just ship your children or other young ones to some stranger who can 'handle' them.

Ah, my therapist. A rather pinched looking blonde, she always seemed to wear her clothes a size too small. Like she used to be smaller, but through some problem, she had gained a size and couldn't find the strength inside to lose the extra poundage. Her shirts always looked like they were going to pop at the buttons, and her skirt always produced an unhealthy looking roll of fat over the top of it- a roll that was just more pronounced due to her tight tops. She was never one for wearing shoes, which always bothered me a bit in sessions. The second I would enter the room, her head would snap over me before she muttered something and called out to me to take off my shoes, so our talking could begin.

Notice that? "OUR" talking? Such stupid therapist speak. As if we ever had true back and forth talks with one another. No, it was always me talking, and her muttering and taking notes. Stupid woman.

The first time I came to a session, she acted like she had no idea why I was there. Expected me to tell her all of the background that had led me to seeking her out- as if this had been my idea, and not forced on me by my aunt and uncle. I think I actually did talk to her a bit that first time. Told her that I thought therapists were a waste of time and money, and what could she possibly tell me about the death of my friend that I hadn't already gone through in my own head. She looked positively shocked at that outburst, and I'm sure, scribbled something insignificant about my possible relationship with my parents. It always seems to come back to that, doesn't it? Oh, yeah. Must be my parents fault that Garwin had done what he had done to me. That I had gotten pregnant and gotten my friend killed.

After several encounters with that horrid woman, I finally got rather bored of it and told her what she wanted to hear. As much as I didn't want to share how I had ended up the way I did, I gave her what she wanted because I had a much greater desire to never have to speak to her again. And, as much as my therapist didn't want to give me up- I'm sure she saw me as a bit of a cash cow towards the end there, I knew that I could only get over Anna's death on my own.

"Therapy" took up six months of my life. Six months of every Wednesday morning sessions until I was pronounced sane and able to "handle it." In all that time, they never really told me what exactly the 'it' that I was supposed to handle. As much as my therapist didn't want to give me up- I'm sure she saw me as a bit of a cash cow towards the end there, I knew that I could only get over Anna's death on my own.

I knew that once I got out of therapy I had to make sure that I stayed busy so that my aunt and uncle didn't think that I was relapsing and feel the need to put me back into that horrid therapist's office. So, I worked. I got a job at a local diner in nearby Grayland. I threw myself into that job wholly. Taking whatever shifts they had available, I worked my way back to how I used to be. The job provided me with a means to forget that Anna wasn't there anymore, and it also earned me lots of money, since oftentimes I would work double shifts. Not that I necessarily needed the money what with my parents, but it helped to know that I could accomplish something with no one's help.

I continued not relying on anyone for the entire time I stayed with my relatives, until one day my parents called me up to tell me that they missed me and wanted me to come home.

A/N: I don't really like the end of this chapter bit… It feels like filler, but everyone needs filler once in a while, right?