[Edited: 7 December 2017]
[Okay, so I'm not from the USA, nor have I ever been there, but Google says it'd take about 40+ hours to drive from Washington (Forks) through to Georgia (Covington, aka Mystic Falls). I'll take Google at its word, but I also didn't think it's necessary or would be appreciated for me to write about 40 hours of Leah driving. So. Cue driving montage.]
Brilliant shades of green wiz dizzyingly past me on either side. Just a long, long stretch of blur that makes me feel like I'm on a rollercoaster.
I feel like I'm still in Forks, for all I know I probably still am. Every time I glance into the rear mirror I'm not sure entirely where it is I'm going – home or Mystic Falls. The trees are blandly familiar, tall and green, their very tip-tops caressing the cloud cover.
It's entirely possible that at some point I may have turned back. Just…yanked the steering wheel and decided to stay.
I can survive on another reservation, without Sam close by it should be easy, enjoyable even – in the vaguest sense of the term, let's not be too hasty. Just me and Seth. That is unless the pup gets it into his head he wants to live with Charlie and mom. Which seems unlikely on quite a few fronts. But then again, I doubt Sam would allow that, to have the young wolf so close to humans everyday – it's a disaster waiting to happen. We aren't necessarily know for our stellar control – Emily' face is testament to that.
We – they - cannot afford to be exposed. It's a matter of security. And I'd really rather not have to hear of Seth being chased down with pitchforks.
Stop! I scream, but in the word's place a growl vibrates the air. Most forest creatures are smart enough to heed the warning, the group of teenagers across from me are not intelligent forest animals though. They laugh.
Seth is crouching on the ground, trying and failing to staunch the blood from his broken nose. He is too dazed to do much more than cup his face. Fur ripples over my spine, the slow onset of the change no longer as painful as it had once been.
Something angry and snarling calls for more blood. Protect. Assert hierarchy. My body bows forward. The rustle and tear of cloth familiar.
"Leah!"
Seth's warbled cry is my only warning before I'm being mowed into the ground, the air knocked clear out of my chest.
Jacob stands above me, eyes narrowly trained on two retreating boys. Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, he turns his eyes to me, that stupid half-smile on his face. "You all right, Leah?"
I push myself up and shove him out the way to crouch by Seth. Who, surprise-surpise has the same stupid smile on his face as Jacob does.
"That was way cool, Jake!"
Deciding Seth is well enough, I hit him upside the head.
Damn it, who's going to look after the kid?
My hands clench and I glare at the rear-view mirror. Almost expecting the pack to burst through the trees. They don't. I continue driving.
My foot has been pressed to the gas for hours, I'm not in Forks anymore. There's no possible way. Yet I can almost remember myself turning around, turning away my destination. Around me there are houses and fields, factories and gymnasia. It's not Forks, nothing like Forks, but I'm almost convinced I'm heading back.
The pickup truck clacks and clatters around me, threatening death, or, at the very least, some intestinal failure. It's the only thing I have from home though, so I whisper "just a few more miles" every couple of miles.
As a kid I'd spent tons of time in here. Hanging out the windows, struggling to climb in the back, puffing air at the windshield and drawing monsters for Seth. Before the vehicle became Bella's it had been ours – Billy's actually, but ours by default. Dad and Billy would drive down to La Push with the engine coughing black plumes. Jacob, Seth and I wobbling around in the back. ("Be careful, don't hang off the side!")
Charlie would meet us there, still dressed in his uniform – considerably more mussed and disorderly than it probably had been when he went to work in the morning – a rod leaning against his shoulder. Back then these men were my heroes, Seth and Jacob were merely obstacles of annoyance.
It's bittersweet now. Dad's dead, he'll never ruffle my hair again. Billy could run after us and throw us over his shoulder; Jacob used to lead a chubby Seth into the water screeching in the way only toddlers could; we'd get home and mom would be waiting with a fresh batch of bread.
It was a time when there weren't vampires or wolves. A time when we weren't looking over our shoulders in anticipation of the next fight or threat.
(Seth giggles wildly as Jacob sprints with him into the water. They fall over, come up gasping as waves crash over their heads, fighting for air and shoving too long hair from their eyes.
From the beach, I watch carefully, rolling a pebble around between my palms.
Seth continues to giggle and stumbles from the water, tripping over beached seaweed and catching himself face-first in the sand. His startled cry has me jumping from my seat among the shells and dashing across the sand. His chubby body is heavy – seems to be gaining pounds by the day – but I heave him up to my hip, singing words of comfort as salty tears make streaks over his sand covered face.
Jacob comes rushing from the water at full speed, his nine year old body shaking from the cold and excitement. I glare at him, "Seth's a baby, you can't be so rough in the water,"
The teary eyed Seth sniffs and wipes at his dirty face, bottom lip protruding indignantly. "I'm not a baby!"
I send Jacob a scathing glare when he laughs, "Was it you who told him that?"
He chuckles and scratches the back of his head, grinning as he backs away. "No," He spins on his heel, kicking up a shower of sand and shells, and dashes back into the ocean.
Sighing, I place Seth's wriggling body back on the ground, he tears across the beach after his friend – pain or shock forgotten. I glance up to the rocks where Billy, Charlie and dad are sitting, fishing rods in hand, although there's little actual fishing happening.
Glorified babysitter.
I should be making friends my own age! Although there are few on the reservation and those that I do know are idiots. Yuma especially, he thinks he's so cool, but actually he's stupid. Who cares if his great grandfather killed a bear?
I kick some pebbles and my eyes trail across the beach to where a group of boys gather. They're tall, taller than even me and mom calls me a beansprout. After a moment I think I recognize one – Sani? Samoset? The kid who tackled Jacy out the way of a car.
I take a step toward the group.
"Leah!" dad yells. Hesitating only a moment, I turn and trot back.
In the cover of darkness, as dad is tucking Seth and myself in, I ask.
"Sam," He says, lips twitching in amusement.)
I scoff at my musings. Pathetic. There's no point in reminiscing. Nothing is going to change. I will still be a wolf tomorrow morning and I'll still be alone. Dad is still going to be dead. Sam will still love Emily.
I lost my chance of happiness long ago, maybe when I first turned into a wolf or perhaps even before that. The day I first laid my eyes on Sam perhaps. I can't give an exact moment when things took a turn for the worse, all I know is that it had and there was no going back.
("Leah!" Emily calls and I grin. She throws herself at me, small and light as a feather, I easily wrapped my arms around her in a hug.
She has been in the Quileute reservation for three hours now, but still her enthusiasm is tangible. I haven't had anyone be so happy to see me in years. I grin a little brighter.
Tonight, tonight I'll introduce her to Sam. Two of the most important people in my life. My stomach is in knots, I hope they like each other. Seth said they will, but he also thinks it's acceptable to eat peanut butter and potatoes together, so he's judgement is faulty.
"Leah," She breathes, breaking away from me, face impossibly happy. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes are practically popping from her head..
I blink. "What?" Did she find out about the wolves? Did she see how much muscle Seth's recently sprouted?
"The guys on this reservation are gorgeous!" She tacks on some unintelligible sound, clutching at my face.
I laugh, relieved. "Who is he?"
"You know me too well," Her cheeks pink, "Sam. His name is Sam.")
It's almost evening again. My foot cramps from being pressed to the gas, my ass is numb.
It's too late to go back now.
If only I could go back, not to those days of happiness but to a few hours ago – a day, maybe a week. I didn't say good-bye in person. I knew that if my eyes landed on Seth I wouldn't go. I almost didn't, merely at the thought of him.
Somehow, I managed to scribble a note, a note not fit for how I really felt. Then again I have never been very good at expressing myself – not in the ways that mattered. Seth is the only thing I have left, mom is with Charlie, but Seth. Seth is my responsibility, my last link to sanity. I should have written him a whole page. I shouldn't have left him at all.
But he's old enough. Has been for a while. He never fails to remind me of this.
He'll be okay without me. Just like everyone else.
The forest I've been driving through abruptly beings to thin, the trees shrinking back from the road. The truck slows, shuddering in relief, and I lean forward, eyes scanned the road ahead. It's not Forks, the trees are different. The snow is a light dust instead of a heavy coat.
It hits me then. I didn't turn back. I'm not going home. I'm really truly alone.
Blurred as my vision is, I almost miss the sign. Simple, looping script, in white and black it reads 'Welcome to Mystic Falls'.