Hate
Hate, she thinks, in the haze between consciousness and sleep (death and life), is not so very different from love.
When she had been turned (killed) by Viktor, she had been obsessed, consumed even, with the urge to hunt and hurt and kill (bring to life) all the Lycans she could find. She had wanted to rip and tear, make them feel pain and agony as she had felt, make them feel mortal again, victim to all of the uncertainties that plague the living.
Now, though, she finds herself wishing that Michael stays by her side her with the same ferocity.
A/N: I apologize for the length of the wait, and the uncoolness of this drabble, but I wanted to update and this is the idea I had wanted to portray.
In other news, many thanks to Lady K2, pandorasxbox, and AsianScaper for reviewing! Keep it groovy, make love not war, and peace out. -CoopersMcFarley, signing out.