Emily,
Things happened. Bella's vampire spawn happened, and Bella getting turned into a vampire and breaking the treaty happened, and Jacob imprinting on the vampire baby happened, and me getting punched into a tree by the lesbian vampire because Jacob is a stupid bitch happened. So, kind of a lot. I'll try to break it down in more detail, but I'm so angry that my vision is going blurry.
Turns out vampires can have kids, which literally goes against everything we know about vampires and everything the Cullens know about vampires and just, like, biology and shit. Turns out vampire kids grow quickly and nearly murder their human mothers, and so Bella just had to be turned into a vampire to save her poor precious skin. The Jacob imprinting bit is fairly clear. And also fucked up. She's an actual fucking baby, creepy vampire child or not. Obviously the Cullens weren't happy about all that, and for some reason Jacob thought he needed to go there and apologize. And the lesbian one punched me into a tree when I mentioned how badly the treaty got broken, which sucks because I thought she was one of the nicer ones.
Just to top it all off, the vampire overlords won't be happy about the vampire spawn, and since my pack alpha has just gone completely fucking insane, I may well get dragged into a fight with the vampire overlords and die.
On the bright side, I'm so busy hating everyone else that I barely even have time to hate you and Sam.
Still hate you, though,
Leah.
Emily,
Why the fuck did you invite me to go dress shopping. I hate you, and I get dressed in the dark, so I am literally the least useful person you could possibly bring along. But no, you still had to invite me. I realize this is unbelievably fucking petty considering all the drama the Cullens are going through, but I don't care.
Vampire spawn has Jacob wrapped around her oh-so-perfect-and-precious little finger. He'll literally do anything for her, and she bites him when she doesn't get her way quickly enough, but all of that is clearly okay because they were destined to be together or some shit. I don't even know what to say.
If imprinting makes people that whipped, why do you never order Sam around like that? If it were me, and he'd fucked up my face, I'd probably make him crawl to me on his knees and beg for forgiveness, and maybe punch him a few times for good measure if I knew he wouldn't hit back. Why not? Are you really just that fucking sweet?
Still hate you,
Leah.
Emily,
There are no words for the feelings I am feeling right now. I guess there are, technically: hatred, mostly, and a hefty dose of confusion, and maybe a little bit of fear but it's not like I'd admit that. It's been three hours since I first tried to write, and my hand was shaking so bad I ripped up the paper, so I went for a run and murdered the shit out of a tree, and now I feel decent enough to write and try to sort out the feelings.
We went dress shopping. You were trying your best to pretend it was just like the old days, and kept trying to talk to me, and I kind of answered your questions occasionally. You tried on elegant gowns that probably cost more than my fucking house, then settled on something a little more in your price range that looked kind of fucking ugly, but I didn't say that. Besides, you'd look pretty wearing a fucking garbage bag, because you're fucking perfect like that and it pisses me off. So far, so mediocre.
You were twirling the skirt around in front of the mirror, and looking like an angel, and I was just standing off to one side looking like I usually do, like a lump of mud wearing cargo shorts, and thinking that it should be me in that dress. And then you started fucking crying. You actually broke down in tears in the middle of a store, and hugged me before I could stop you.
You said you never wanted it to be like this. Well, of course, isn't that nice. Didn't stop you from stealing Sam from me, did it? Then you kept bawling, and trying to keep the tears off of your dress, and you said that you tried to make me happy. I was about to cut in, and inform you that it was sort of a fucking pathetic attempt, and then you said you told Sam to go back to me.
You told him that I cared about you so much, and you couldn't stand making me unhappy, and he told you that he'd imprinted on you and couldn't just change that, and you told him that he had to leave because it was going to kill me, and then he clawed up your face.
How in the hell did nobody ever tell me that before?
I walked away from the conversation, because I didn't know how to fucking deal with it. Sorry about that. I still have no idea how to fucking deal with it, but I can't stop thinking about you, in your wedding dress, mascara running down your cheeks, telling me that it should be me.
I guess I should be happy, or something. Maybe.
I'm not sure how to feel any more. Hatred was a simple emotion. You stole my fiancé, so I hate you. My feelings about Sam were a little more complicated, but still dominated by hatred. Now, I feel like an asshole for hating you for something you can't really control.
Feelings are weird,
Leah.