Emily,
I got in a fight with my mom. Nothing new there. You know, I say she's disrespecting my dad's memory by dating again so soon, she calls me selfish, shit escalates until she's saying that me selfishly turning out to be a werewolf ruined her fucking life or something. The usual.
I'm on the roof, because that's the only place I can go without running into my mom, who's still upset, or Sam, who takes her side and looks all disappointed in me because I'm not the perfect daughter.
Being the perfect daughter was always your thing. You were always fucking pretty, and fucking nice, and a fucking considerate fucking doormat. You didn't run away from home when you were sixteen and only get returned because you ran into the sheriff, or cut your hair off in a mirror with a pair of old rusty scissors, or kill your own dad from the shock of you turning out to be a werewolf. You had everything, and Sam was the only fucking thing I could ever have all to myself, and then you took that away from me too.
It's so foggy I can't see the trees, so it's cold and damp and miserable. I probably should head inside.
Still hate you,
Leah.
Emily,
Bella's getting married, and now suddenly it's oh, poor, miserable Jacob, how horrible it must be from the same fucking people who told me to get over Sam. But of course, none of it's Bella's fault because Bella is still perfect and beautiful and can do no wrong. So I'm a little upset.
Those Cullens are trying to make friends with us, now. The short happy one told me I smelled nice, and I told her to fuck off. Fucking lesbian. Fucking cheerful lesbian. Weren't things okay back when we just stuck to our side of the river, and the Cullens just stuck to theirs?
Seth looked very disappointed in me, and he says I should at least try to make some friends. I got a job waitressing just to get away from my family and make a little cash over the summer, so I can maybe pay for textbooks at community college next semester if my mom doesn't kick me out because she has enough mouths to feed already.
It's sunny, for once, like the universe itself wants Bella and Edward's wedding to be perfect or some fairy tale bullshit.
Still hate you,
Leah.
Emily,
I visited you. I don't know why.
I was pissed off, and I was going to go rip up your flowers. I don't like your flowers. They're all perfect and pretty and tame.
I was in wolf form, and you didn't look scared. I wanted you to be scared of me. You let me in, and told me not to worry about tracking mud onto your kitchen floor. You offered me scones. I didn't even know people actually ate those outside of books.
You kept smiling, and I don't like it when you smile. You asked me to be your fucking bridesmaid. I said yes, because it's free food even if I have to watch the love of my life marry my best friend.
I didn't rip up your flowers. You're welcome.
There are storms further out, and they might come in to shore tonight, but for now there's just the electricity in the air.
Still hate you,
Leah.
Emily,
I hate to admit it, but I might be starting to understand why the pack started telling me to get over it. It's been almost two weeks of Jacob's constant refrain of I should kill myself because life isn't worth living. No, I should kill Edward. No, I should let them be happy. No, I should kill myself to make Bella feel bad that she didn't choose me, and it's bringing me back to right after Sam left, back when I spent a month refusing to leave my room.
I'm going to drink tonight until I can't remember my own name, because that's the only way to dull the telepathy a little, short of going all the way to the border, and it's miserable out there.
Seth is so fucking proud of me for being your bridesmaid, because I'm such a great person and willing to let you two be happy and whatever. I wasn't listening to him.
Still hate you,
Leah.
Emily,
I'm back. I'm drunk. My handwriting is shit, sorry.
I shouldn't be apologizing, because you're a fucking piece of paper.
You and Sam are being so fucking happy it's disgusting, and Jacob is being so fucking sad it's disgusting, and I've been trying to distract myself for hours on end, and I thought writing might work.
Remember when we were little and we climbed to the roof of your house and carved our names up there in the paint, like we were explorers, and you said it was a monument to our everlasting friendship or some shit? Yeah, your dad repainted the roof the year after that, so I guess he was right about the friendship thing.
Why are you marrying Sam? He clawed up your face really bad that one time. Imprinting doesn't go both ways, does it, or maybe it does, or maybe you were in love with Sam all along but didn't want to ruin our friendship.
Fuck, you two deserve each other.
I'm sorry. That was kind of a shitty thing to say, even if you are both terrible.
Still hate you,
Leah.