Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story...except maybe the forest ranger... ;)
One week, 5 days, 10 hours, 23 minutes, 57…58…59 seconds.
"You had to have found something. It's been almost two weeks!"
One week, 5 days, 10 hours, 24 minutes, actually.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Uley, but there's no trace of him. We've got no clues that even hint to – "
"WELL LOOK HARDER, DAMMITT! My god, I'd be making more progress by going out there myself!" The forest ranger looked my way, surprised at my sudden, interruptive outburst. I had been sitting here quietly for the past 7 minutes and 12 seconds, listening to these useless forest rangers talk about absolute bullshit. My anger had been building by the second, the rangers oblivious to my rage.
Sam's mother sighed, sounding exhausted. "Leah, honey. Let me take care of this. Why don't you take a break from everything? You're exhausted. Go home. Get some rest."
I looked at her like she was completely insane, though I knew I was the one who was losing it. We didn't have time "take a break." Obviously the forest rangers were getting nowhere. I couldn't just sit back, relax, and watch them completely screw this up. What the hellwas she thinking? But it was true; I needed to get out of this house before I really lost it. I stood up, my jaw clenched tight, and nodded my head once before turning to walk out the front door of the Uley household at precisely one week, 5 days, 25 minutes, and 3 seconds.
I ran. I ran as fast as I could, farther into the forest then I had ever been before. I screamed his name over and over as I went, my voice cracking through the sobs that heaved from chest. I would find him. . I had to find him. The bottoms of my feet burned, bleeding a bright red. I had ditched the unpractical sandals Emily had insisted I buy about an hour ago, choosing to run barefoot. The branches and rocks cut through me like butter as I ran, but I didn't stop. I didn't think I could. I was numb, my legs moving forward unthinkingly, as I called out for the man I loved. My shirt had been torn, a wide slash cutting across the front and through the plaid material.
Well, it was Sam's shirt really. I had dressed in one of his flannel, button up tops, rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. It was huge on me, naturally, the end of it reaching just above my knees, but it smelled like him. Felt like him.
And oh god I missed him so much. How could he do this to me? How could he leave me here like this, with no letter, no phone calls; absolutely no contact whatsoever? If he was going to suddenly disappear of the face of the earth the least he could have done was take me with him. What was I supposed to do?
If he expected me to just sit around, he didn't know me at all. But that was the problem. He did know me, and wouldn't have left me behind. This was an unplanned disappearance.
He was hurt.
Sam had disappeared on a Thursday, simply not showing up to school. I was disappointed, yes, but thought nothing of it. He was sick, I told myself, and decided to go see him as soon as school let out. I even contemplated skipping the last half of the day to spend time with him, but decided against it, considering I had already ditched a total of 3 classes last week and the principal was becoming a bit apprehensive.
I called his house after school, my brow furrowing when his mom had answered claimed he wasn't there. She was "oh so sure" he had went to school that morning. Where else would he have gone? Apparently they'd gotten in a fight the night before and he had left, shaking uncontrollably. She had called after him, but eventually just let him go, figuring he would head over to my house.
He didn't.
I became frantic. I called his cell phone, talked to all of his friends; everyone and anyone that might have a clue as to where he would be. But no one knew. Classmates were asking me where he was, assuming I would know.
I didn't.
People were beginning to talk, musing over the most probable reasons for his absence. They figured he was hurt, but I assured them they were wrong and he was fine, trying to convince myself more than anyone. I spent days with Mrs. Uley, drilling her with questions, hoping to god she would have some idea as to where he could be. She was his mother, for crying out loud. She had to know.
She didn't.
I searched the entire town, every place we had ever gone together; every place he had ever talked about. I made flyers with a picture I had taken of him just days before. he was sitting on my couch, smiling at something I had just said. I hung them on trees and in the windows of each store in town. I drove up to Port Angeles, and began hanging there as well, asking random, confused people if they had ever seen him and if they would please, please call his number if they did.
They didn't.
By then the worst possible scenarios has begun to seep their way into my head. What if he had been hurt? Kidnapped? Killed? Perhaps, stressed about the fight with his mom, he had walked out and into the forest, in search of a quiet place to think. He could have tripped in the dark, and hit his head. Or been cornered by a bear and killed in his attempt to get away.
He could be lying in the forest somewhere, hurt or nearly dead, waiting for someone to find him.
This thought is what had driven me to hike through the forest about a week ago. I searched for hours, soon realizing this wasn't doing any good. I needed help. That's when we decided to let the police take over. We had all the forest rangers out looking for him; searching for any sign that there had been an accident; that he had been hurt. I had faith that they would find something. I mean, come on, it was their job.
They didn't.
That's right. They found absolutely nothing. Which left me here, stumbling around god only knows where deep in the middle of the forest, panting so hard I may just heave up a lung. In my fit of rage toward the dumb ass forest rangers, I had decided I could do better and fled off into the forest to find my lost loved one.
Me. Leah Clearwater, the average girl from La Push, Washington, believed I could help Sam. Save him. It had been two weeks. Or rather - I glanced at the watch I wore on my wrist…
One Week, 5 days, 15 hours, 43 minutes, and 17 seconds.
It seemed so much longer than that.
By now, I figure, all hope is lost. Even if he had only been hurt, alive at one point during the week, he had gone without food or water all this time, without any treatment for those injuries…
He was gone.
And now because of my stupid, impulsive reactions, I was stuck here, deeper in the forest then I would have thought possible, with no idea how to get out. By tomorrow, the police would be looking for me.
I stopped running, slumping against a tree, my legs finally giving out. I slid down to the ground, pulling my knees to my chest and leaning my head back, knocking it against the tree. I trying unsuccessfully to breath through the tears that leaked out of me, forming rivets down the lengths of my cheeks. I slowly shifted my body so I was lying down on my side, my legs curled to my chest in fetal position, my face pressed uncomfortably against the dirt floor. I wept for the man I loved.
I don't know how long I laid there, crying my heart out, hoping for a miracle. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. My obsessive counting of how much time had passed seemed stupid now. It didn't matter how long he was gone, or how long I had been looking for him. Either way, he was gone.
It grew dark under the canopy of trees and I slowly became aware of my body, the terrifying depression receding, allowing me to regain control over myself. I needed to find my way back home. Sighing, I slowly got up from my crouched position on the dirt floor, and began to walk toward the way I had come. Sobs shook my now fragile frame.
I used to be strong. I never cried, especially not to this extent; to the point where my stomach hurt so bad I thought I may throw up.
I did. I watched everything I had eaten that day come up the same way it had went down in one sickening motion. My face was clammy with sweat, though I was freezing from the rain that continued to seep through the trees above me. Pieces of hair that had slipped out of my low ponytail stuck to my face and I brushed them away, along with the tears that just would not stop coming. I stared at my feet as I walked, sure that they were permanently stained red with blood. But I couldn't feel them, so I kept going. I weakly called out Sam's name once more, hoping for something that was no longer there.
By the time I emerged from the endless wall of trees, it was twilight, the darkness settling in over this tiny town. Had I really been gone for so long? I began the walk home, but found myself passing the driveway my house and heading toward Sam's. I didn't know why, it's not like his mother would have any news.
But that's where I ended up none the less.
I let myself in, feeling perfectly comfortable here, though the man that connected me with this tiny home was gone. I closed the door quietly behind me, and after a moment of debating, slipped on a pair of flats I had left here a few days ago. I didn't want to track blood through the house.
I still couldn't feel my feet.
That's when I heard her. Mrs. Uley was crying. Loud, shoulder shaking sobs that made me wan fall to my knees and weep as well. I walked hesitantly toward the kitchen, where the horrible noise was coming from. I felt obligated to comfort her but didn't to embarrass her; catch her in the act. I knew from experience that sobs like these were meant to experience alone. Despite this knowledge, I rounded the corner, biting my lip, set on comforting the mother who cried out for the man I loved.
I froze, my eyes widening and mouth dropping open. All the breath whooshed out of me in surprise. The same bone shaking cries that had erupted from Mrs. Uley now escaped my lips, bringing me to my knees.
Sam. He was home.
So here it is. Chapter two. Let me know what you think. Be honest - its late, im tired, and there are probably some errors in this peice. I would be happy to fix them in the morning if you let me know in a review ;)
I realize Leah's reaction is a little dramatic, but I felt the need to show how much she loved Sam, because thats critical to who she becomes after he imprints. And if you think this is out of character, remember that Leah wasnt always a cynical bitch. She was in love, at one point. Also, Leah thinks Sam is dead. Thats why she has such a strong reaction. Im pretty sure even cynical bitch Leah would cry over Sam's death...
But thanks for reading.
~allison
