Chapter 2: What did I do to deserve this? A/N: I would like to thank my reviewer(s), much appreciation goes out to my dear friend milee, whom was also the first to review and I encourage you to read her stories they are exquisite.
Disclaimer: I still don't own recognizable characters
I sighed as I sat down on the foot of my bed and silently stared around at my one room shack.
It was bare; the only signs of any habitation are the very bed I'm sitting on, the mirror hanging on the wall, and the small flame flickering in the fire place.
It's nothing like the fire that roared continuously in the common room. There I would sit with my friends: James, the so called "leader" of our little group (oftentimes accompanied by the ever lovely Miss Evens) Sirius, the playful one that treacherous son of a...well he wasn't that way then, then he was a good friend, the best even not a good boyfriend to those poor random blondes but a good friend non the less, and then there was Peter, oh poor Peter, who turned out to be the bravest one of us and the truest friend. And to think I though he was the spy.
I'm sorry Pete...
I'm sorry James and Lily...
I'm sorry I thought the wrong person betrayed you. I'm sorry that I didn't go after Sirius myself, I'm especially sorry little Harry will grow up with those horrid people and never know you.
But more than that I'm sorry for myself
That's right, I'm selfish, always have been really.
I was selfish to let you risk your lives and the lives of innocent bystanders for a bit of fun, and I'm selfish now because the only reason I really feel sorry is because of what I lost, never mind that you lot lost your lives, that Harry lost his parents, or even that Sirius lost his freedom, no I'm sorry that I'm alone...again.
I wish I had some coffee.
Better yet I wish I had a bottle of firewhiskey.
I'd like to get good and drunk, just completely out of it, no ones here to see me make a fool of myself and it's not like I have a wife that I might end up beating or a child that could get hurt because I was lost in a drunken stupor. I might have had all of that at one time but I don't anymore. Thanks to her I don't have anything, not even a bloody bottle of firewhiskey.
Not much I can do now; no one would love a werewolf. She might have, at one time, but not the everlasting type of love, that doesn't exist. Perhaps Lily and James had it, I will never know now.
I could hire a prostitute, sure it isn't love but it would occupy my time and I could pretend that it was her...oh, Anna why? Why did you have to go so badly? What did I do to deserve this?