For the next two days, I did nothing but mope around the house, drinking juice like there was no tomorrow and shoving my face with sticky strawberry jam. A thin layer of brown fur was spreading across my body because I had not bothered to shave, which, in truth, was especially unbecoming. My regular human hair had not been washed since I arrived home that stormy night, which resulted in unbearable stench accompanied by oil build-up. Original Cindy often commented that she would help me, if I needed it. I didn't want her help. I didn't want anybody's help because I didn't need it. And, although I realized that I was acting just as stubborn as Dad, I refused to give in.

Brin had officially been moved over to Krit and Syl's due to the fact that they had the finances to support medical care for her so that she could be kept comfortable until untimely death. This left the apartment to Mom, Cindy, and I. A feline transgenic. An adult with a teenager's mindframe. And one moody teenage feline transgenic. Not the happiest group you could find.

Mom had forgiven me, and I her, so everything was back to normal in that retrospect. She said many a time that I should go back to James and try to work things out because she, of all people, could understand what I was going through. But, whenever I heard his name mentioned, I would immediately begin to block out any and all words that followed. Nothing could make me go back. Nothing at all.

I had spoken briefly to Max about her condition, and apologized for not coming back to the apartment. She wasn't up for a heavy conversation about my break-up with James, and I didn't want to talk about it all that much either. Although the pain medications had worn off, the true emotional pain hadn't. In fact, without the drugs, she was feeling the full brunt of her feelings, and despite the fact that she had denied ever being pregnant, the death of her only child had shocked her nonetheless. I don't think she would ever get over it.

As the number of days I had spent on the couch approached the second night, I received a call from Case. Mom answered it and carried on a short, but friendly, conversation with him of which I ignored. Then, she held out the phone towards me.

"It's for you. It's Case," she replied.

"What does he want?" I asked, rising up from the couch, trying not to feel the way my cat hair bristled against the aged fabric of the couch.

"Talk to you."

I held my tongue about that being an obvious statement and answered with a grunt as I accepted the phone. Mom shook her head and headed off to the bathroom to shower.

"Alanza? Is that you?" Case asked from the other end.

"Yeah, it's me."

"How are you doing?"

"Ok."

"I talked to James."

"Oh."

"He's not doing too good either."

"That's nice."

"Alanza…"

"He can rot in hell for all I care right now," I grumbled.

"He's hurting just as much as you are."

"Bullshit."

"Go back to him."

"Why do I have to be the one who does all the dirty work? Why can't he come to me?" I asked. "Maybe I don't feel like shaving, combing my hair, taking a bath, and actually eating real food for once. Maybe I'll just stay like this the rest of my life."

"You know that's not reasonable."

"And who gave you permission to play God with me, Case?"

"Nobody," he replied, confused and slightly hurt by my snippets.

Realizing that I had offended him, I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "I'm sorry, Case, I didn't mean it," I replied, looking at the grease that was now on my fingers. The sudden urge to vomit was overwhelming. I was becoming a recluse.

"It's ok," he responded in that wonderfully mundane voice that he used.

"No, it's not. I'm ready to kill something…or someone…yet burst into sobs. I've been lounging around the house eating goddamn jam and bawling my eyes out for over two days now. I hate him so much, but it's awful being away from him."

"He tried to hit you, I heard," Case commented as if he had just mentioned that there were a lot of clouds in the sky that day.

"He told you that?"

"Yeah."

"Well, believe you me, he got it good."

Case chuckled. "He showed me the bruise. Bruises, I should say."

"Yipee."

"Go back to him, Alanza, you know how much you love him."

"Case, I don't need to be hearing this right now. I'm trying to stay sane without going totally berserk and for once, I'm actually starting to see clear right now. Don't tell me to go back to him."

He sighed reluctantly. "You're right. I should let you two work things out on your own."

"There's nothing to work out."

"Look, I just wanted to see if you're all right."

"I'm fine."

"Then, I'll be going now."

"It was good to hear from you," I admitted.

"You too."

Laying the now quiet phone back onto the receiver, I tried to sleep, but found that it was extremely difficult. When I finally managed to make myself comfortable on the thick couch, dozing in and out of the real world, all I think about were men. Men in boxers. Men in boxer briefs. And, yes, even gigolos in G-strings. Every single one of them wore James' face and body. Forcing myself to snap out of the dream, I awoke in a dark apartment, panting and trembling with sweat pooling around me. Acidic stomach juice rose ominously in the back of my throat, while my insides burned with the temptation of what was to come.

"Oh God…" I moaned, falling back onto the couch. "I'm in heat again."

Starting that very moment at five thirty in the morning, I did a full and complete change. Throwing the smelly, sweat-soaked sheets off my body, I grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the bathroom to shower. It was bad enough when other people started to smell your rank body odor, but when you can smell it, it's pretty awful.

Surprisingly, the freezing water was a welcomed sensation, despite the fact that it sent me wheeling to the opposite side of the shower, breathless and trembling. I forced myself to step back under the arctic waterfall and concentrate on the problem at hand so that the cold could numb the burning feeling that was spreading throughout my limbs.

Yes, I was in heat. Yes, I could handle this. Just because I needed a male, was not that big of deal. Just because I needed to feel his warm, silky body pressed against mine while we tumbled across his bed-"Stop it!" I hissed out loud to myself, pounding my fist against the iron shower wall so that it rumbled like thunder. "You are eighteen years old. You've been through this before. All you have to do is think good thoughts. Nothing that has to do with the dirty deed." Talking to myself didn't help matters any. In fact, it only made the present situation worse. All I could picture was James' body, naked and ready, as we had lain upon his bed in the worse moment of passion that there could ever be. My brain may have not wanted him while standing in the shower, but my body was ready to take a flying leap across the world for him.

I shaved myself with harsh, repeated strokes so that I drew blood on my knees and forearms. The blood felt soothing because I was in control of my emotions, in control of what I could do to my body and what I couldn't do. I pressed my finger to the spot where the cut was on my leg and watched in fascination as the red liquid pooled around the curvature of my finger. So, this was what one of my "uncles", Ben, found so wonderful. Mom could never understand his obsession with death and killing others. Slumped against the wall of the shower, watching the blood ooze down my legs, I finally did. His killings gave him a powerful sensation. It allowed him to play God by controlling the lives of others because he couldn't lead his own life. Living in Manticore for ten years or so must have pushed him to the edge of insanity due to the fact that he was unable to even be a real person. Soldiers have no authority, and that was all, I believed, that Ben wanted. Control. It was all I really wanted at the moment too.

Finished with shaving, I applied some saliva to the wounds to help them heal and exited the shower. I felt refreshed and alive, ready to start my life over again. No amount of Manticore could make me desert my life. I dressed in faded blue jeans, a pale magenta sweater and pulled my hair back tightly into a ponytail. Feeling powerful, I left the chilled bathroom to grab my lifeguarding gear and head onto the pool for my job. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the person sitting at the counter, drinking coffee with Mom.

"L-Logan," I stumbled, swooning with animalistic heat and human passion.

"Hello Alanza," he smiled, flashing his perfect teeth at me, which were surrounded by sensuous lips that I wanted to have. His jawbone was wonderfully formed with a nice little scruffy beard and glasses that made him look all sexy and intellectual. God, I hated to say it, but I wanted him. I wanted him bad.

Approaching him, I strutted like I was on the catwalk, moving closer to him so that my hand ran down his upper thigh. "Logan," I whispered, "looks like the time in the wheelchair may have left you slightly thin."

"Alanza?" he questioned, confused.

Hearing my name pronounced in his luscious voice made me pounce. I was clawing at his hair, struggling to eat him alive, when Mom literally jumped over the counter and smacked me across the face.

"Alanza!" she snapped, not angry, but worried. I reeled, clutching my cheek. Then, lowering her voice, she walked me over to the couch as I mumbled a stream of "ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod". I sat down on the couch, reaching blindly for my lifeguard equipment as Mom crouched next to me. "It's 'that time'-isn't it?" she asked.

I nodded blankly.

"You shouldn't go to work today."

"I have to."

"No."

Logan was in the background, brushing himself off, but I tried not to notice how tight his pants were. The last thing I needed to do was jump him again.

"I'm going to work, Mom. I haven't been there in two days. I can't be a recluse like this."

Sighing heavily because she knew that arguing with me wasn't going to do any good, Mom shrugged. "You just watch yourself."

"I'll try."

She hugged me as I left the apartment, wishing me good luck. Chuckling stupidly to myself as I rode to the pool, I couldn't think of any other mothers who would wish their daughter good luck in trying not to screw some guy. Just goes to show a person how truly screwed up Manticore can make a family.