"we've got obsessions

i want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me when i am holding you

we've got obsessions

all you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you"

-Obsessions by Marina and the Diamonds

Chapter XIV – Of Doghouses and Collisions.

Jacob was in the doghouse.

Well, it was actually the cabinet under the sink.

"Let me the fuck out of here, Paul!" Jacob's fist splintered the small wooden door, and with an angry snarl he curled his fingers into the legs of his pants; if he broke Emily's kitchen, it was almost certain death – and, despite the current situation, he didn't really want to die.

…well…not that much, anyway.

"If you wanna act like a middle schooler, then you're gonna get treated like one," came the smug, answering voice of Paul; the smirk in his voice irked Jacob to the core. If it wasn't for the imminent destruction of Emily's little kitchen, Jacob would've phased right then and there and took Paul's head off. He was getting so sick of the guy's shit, what, with kissing his imprint, acting like a dick all the time, kissing Ahala, eating everything in the fridge, fucking kissing his imprint on the fucking lips.

Jacob, careful not to break anything, pushed against cabinet door, but to no avail; Paul had his lard ass pressed against it and was giving no signs of moving anytime soon. Until someone decided to stop Jacob's misery, he was stuck here; and he was pretty sure that would be a while. Everyone was a little more than upset with him.

"When Ahala gets here," Paul said, "you're going to beg for her forgiveness. Literally, beg. Down on your knees like the bitch you are and sob. That girl thinks the world of you and you don't give her shit back."

Jacob grunted, and surprisingly with the little space he had, crossed his arms. "I give her what she wants."

"She wants you to love her like an imprint should."

"Hypocrite."

"Shut up."

"What, because I'm right? You can sit there and preach it but you can't take it. I know what happened between you and Jesy the night the vamp showed up," there was silence on the other side of the door, and Jacob reveled in it, "and you won't call her back. Don't you think she feels the exact same way Ahala does?"

"Our situation is different," Paul replied, "I'm doing her a favor and you're messing with Ahala's head."

Pretentious laughter escaped Jacob's lips, "Is that what you tell yourself?"

It happened so fast Jacob nearly missed it.

Paul wrenched the door open, flung Jacob's arms out of the way, and gave him the worst titty-twister he was positive he'd ever experienced and then slammed the door shut again. Jacob howled in pain, clutching his chest and repressing tears of pain. "Oh, shit, shit, shit –"

"Keep talking, asshole. See what happens next."

"Noted," Jacob grunted, biting down hard on his lip to suppress the oncoming whimper.

Jacob heard the kitchen door swing open and several pairs of bare feet pad across the floor. Someone snickered, and said, "You still got him in there, Paul?" Embry, you little fuck – I thought we were friends.

"Hell yeah I do. And he's staying in here until Ahala and Em get back."

"That's cruel,"

"It's payback."

"Whatever you say, but if he's in any way permanently damaged you're paying for it, Paul." Sam said, but the way he said it suggested that Paul would probably just get a pat on the back and a discrete hundred dollar bill for permanently damaging Jacob.

All of his so-called brothers shared a hardy laugh, and then all filed out of the kitchen – presumably to straighten up the house like Emily had told them to – save for Paul. Paul's unassigned job was to make Jacob's life as miserable as possible for the next hour and a half; something he was an expert at.

As if reading his mind, Paul sighed in content and said, "I love making you miserable."

"Really? Couldn't tell."

"You want another titty-twister?"

Jacob's stony silence answered that.

This was going to be a long, long hour and a half.

"Hey, tell me how this smells, Black."

So, so very long.

"Ahala. Ahala, you've got to calm d –"

"Emily, I swear to the ever-fucking Gods if you say that one more time I will rip your boobs off."

"Erm…okay. Just…err…I don't know."

Wearing nothing but the tatters of her old dress, Ahala sat in the passenger seat of Emily's car, trembling and attempting to hold herself together. The driver's door was open and Emily sat half in half out, simultaneously trying to calm down a sobbing, crying mother and a stressed out, aggravated werewolf.

Needless to say, the night wasn't going very well.

"My baby's a werewolf!"

"Giada, you can't be so loud –"

"But my little girl – oh, this wasn't in 'How to Raise Your Teenager'…"

Ahala closed her eyes and let her head fall against the window. Tonight had been an absolute disaster; setting aside the whole thing with Jacob, on the way to dinner Emily had run over a fallen pack of nails – yeah, they'd just been lying in the road; can you believe their luck? – and had to pull over by an abandoned convenience store. Already having been stressed out and shaken up, Ahala had gotten out of the car to pace off some of the weight on her mind.

It had been working fantastically – until a car came screeching towards her, and sent her flying into the chained glass doors of the store. If Ahala was normal, she probably would've just laid down and died like the good little human she could've been; but…nothing was ever that easy for her, right?

Right there, in front of the unsuspecting driver, she phased.

The only good thing about it was that no one else was phased. It was the second time that day that she revealed herself to someone who wasn't supposed to be on the in the secret – if anyone had seen that, she would've been dead meat.

That was – legitimately – the only good thing.

Because, coincidently, her mother had seen her get out of the car while driving by and swerved in surprise, and lost control. Small world, right? And of course, her mother lost her shit and started screaming and trying to call the cops, and thankfully, Emily was fast enough to stop her.

This brought them to this moment, with Ahala trying to drown out the sound of her mother's sobs and Emily's yells that were becoming progressively angrier.

"Please calm down, let me explain –"

"I can't do this, oh god –"

"Giada, please calm down –"

"How can I calm down? I just watched my baby –"

"Shut up, sit down, and let me explain. Your daughter could really use a helping hand that isn't mine, because frankly, I have no idea what to do right now. She's got some serious problems going on."

"Werewolf…problems?"

Emily sighed. "Yes. Werewolf problems."

Ahala cracked one eye open and watched her mother leaning against the dented side of her truck, and in a childlike manner, began to listen to Emily explain; the change, the imprint, the whole Bella-Jacob-Ahala thing – everything.

Only half listening, Ahala opened the glove compartment and sifted around for the pack of cigarettes she knew were there, and pulling them out. She thanked Sam's stressing habit as she pulled one out and used the car's lighter to light it.

"Oh, no – are you smoking Ahala? We talked about that –"

"Just…just let her be. She'll be okay."

Ahala smiled at her mom and blew out a puff of smoke, before rolling down her window and gazing out into the blackness of the night. It was only eight o' clock, but it felt much later; Ahala supposed when you stuffed so much conflict into only a couple of hours, that was the effect.

Nearly asleep, Ahala continued to smoke her cigarette and listen to Emily.

A/n - this chapter is weird, and I like it.

Reviews keep me going, folks! I'm on Christmas Break with nothing to do, entertain me!