My Soul

Then I'm radio and then I'm television
I'm afraid of everyone, I'm afraid of everyone
Lay the young blue bodies, with the old red violets
I'm afraid of everyone, I'm afraid of everyone

With my kid on my shoulders I try
Not to hurt anybody I like
But I don't have the drugs to sort,
I don't have the drugs to sort it out, sort it out

It was the perfect opportunity for him to strike.

I felt the blood freeze in my veins; not in fear of the werewolf in front of me but in fear of all those feelings coming up again. I heavily swallowed the last bite of my pancakes as I followed him with my eyes and as I watched his serious expression, I realized he knew this was his only chance.

Jacob sat down in the kitchen chair across from me. I suppressed the urge to flee and never, ever look back. I quickly put on my poker face. Okay. Calm down. Take a deep breath and face the music. You can do this. Why did my inner pep talk feel so halfhearted? Right, because there was no way I would be able to "do this".

I clenched my teeth together in order to keep the memories from flooding my brain but I was already down on the ground of the cold, dark room I had been locked inside. And it didn't matter if there were memories of him doing, saying anything. What mattered was that the door was made out of steel so hard my wolf strength did nothing move it. In fact, it even seemed to darken the room further.

And while my sore firsts banged against the door, I watched Jacob, wishing he would just get it over with. Knowing the words would not leave my mouth over my dead body, because speaking it – it would only intensify the pain and vulnerability I was feeling.

It had been about a week since he had moved in… sort of. If you wanted to call it that. It was real simple; I slept in my bed and he on the couch. I went out early and he slept in late. We didn't fight just because we didn't see each other – there was no way for us to tick each other off. It was almost as if he wasn't there. And I liked it that way; after all I had managed to avoid his confrontation – up until now.

I should've realized this was a badterribleawful idea. But it was Saturday and Erin was taking over my shift, so why wouldn't I sleep in and eat breakfast?

Simple, look what you've managed to get yourself into, retard.

Jacob had made it clear that he wanted to know what had happened that night at Sam's, for whatever reason.

And if Jacob Black wanted something he got it, excluding clingy, leech-loving girls named Bella.

But not this time, I wouldn't tell him. It was none of his fucking business.

But the question alone brought back all the emotions that had rushed through my body and had made me turn my back on the place that was supposed to be home. It reminded me of the hopelessness of the situation, something I liked not to acknowledge.

Jacob closed his eyes for a second or two, sighed as if he was frustrated. Maybe he was.

"Stop it Leah. I'm not going to ask." Oh god he finally – wait, what? I knew I shouldn't feel relieved; no doubt someone else, at whatever time and whatever place, would someday wonder about the baggage I seemed to be dragging behind me wherever I went. But I did. A warm, tingly feeling spread over my tense body and lightened the weight that rested on my shoulders.

"Finally. Thought you'd damage that poor table to the point of no repair." I didn't like that smile on his face, that one that was hardly pulling the corners of his mouth up. I could not think of any reason for him to smile.

Wait… what was he saying?

I looked down at my hands which were not-so-subtly clasping the edge of my kitchen table. I had been so concentrated on what was going on inside of me that I'd been completely oblivious to what my body was doing. I carefully dug my fingers out of the marred wood, a feeling of embarrassment bubbling under the surface. He had been perfectly in tune with my emotions, even though I'd done my best on hiding them.

"Jacob," I started and stupidly ignored the dangerdangerdanger chanting in the back of my mind. "Why…?" My voice broke, I was either too shaken up or my sense of self-preservation was kicking itself into motion.

He stared at me, confusion wrinkling his brows. I sighed and gave up – it was better that way anyway – and rose from my seat, stiffly moving to the front door, leaving Jacob alone in the house.

Perfect time for a phase.

Alone the look on her face, how she stopped mid-chew as I entered the room, should've had me laughing out loud. But this was serious, serious as in I'mfeelingnauseous-serious, so I was feeling not one bit amused. Over the last few days Leah had somehow accomplished putting this conversation off until now. Yeah, yeah. I know, I'd let her get away with it. But something told me that if I didn't make a move now she would find a way to run.

I had apparently caught her off guard while she wolfing down her breakfast. I averted my eyes to her plate, where pancakes and bacon were mounting, and wondered if she would be eating regularly if it weren't for the wolf-extra-appetite. I guessed I would never know.

I sat down opposite of her and watched as her face mirrored her emotions – distress, pain and … surrender? – before they were suddenly wiped away, locked away and hidden by the blank expression I had encountered hundreds of times before, only that at that time I'd thought it was her normal face, not a mask made to protect.

One of the reasons I needed to do this. As second in command and as packbrother.

But her hands… her hands.

They were digging into the table, forming a flawless imprint of her fingers. Her mask wasn't perfect; it was far from it.

Her body was displaying what her eyes wouldn't show. And Leah was watching me that whole time, waiting for me to speak the words.

I couldn't lift my gaze from her russet fingers, thoughts and memories of when I'd just gotten the leech's message attached to the wedding invitation played before my eyes and rung in my ears. The pain it had caused me. Leah was feeling exactly the same, almost. And I knew I would've rather not gotten the invitation, let alone Edward's thank-you-for-taking-care-of-my-wife-when-I-couldn't message. I couldn't do this to anyone, no matter how irritating said "anyone" might be. Fuck, this was frustrating.

Leah's grip on the table tightened.

"Stop it Leah. I'm not going to ask." Again, her reaction was mildly amusing, the way she seemed to tense up further before relaxing completely, her shoulders slacking. A tiny smile curled on my lips. The decision I had come to had been the right one.

"Finally. Thought you'd damage that poor table to the point of no repair," I said, trying to ease the situation up a little.

Surprised, she glanced at her hands that were still clawing the wood and loosened them. I chuckled silently.

"Jacob, why…?" she muttered, looking up at my face. Why what? Leah had stopped mid-sentence, her mouth was still slightly agape. As if the words got stuck in her throat. She surrendered – with a grim look on her face – and got up from her chair, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I heard the door slamming closed seconds after.

Well… that didn't go as planned.

I stood and brushed my hands along the unwrought wood the table was made of, feeling the print Leah's hands had left with my fingertips.

The wood was splintered, making it rough to the touch.

A thought I'd had countless times before popped into my head, pushing everything else in there aside.

What the hell was I doing here?

And just like before I didn't have an answer. I wasn't doing this for myself. I would be far – no, not happier, far more oblivious – somewhere where I knew no one and no one knew me. But here I was, living in Leah Clearwater's house. Of all places to be why was I here?

Because she'd asked me to. Simple. Easy.

A bit disturbing.

And she'd asked me to because she didn't trust me to keep her secret. Didn't she see that I didn't want the Pack to know where I was, too? Self-centered bitch, it ran through my head.

Yes, self-centered. But I knew I would be the same way… no, I knew I was the same way. We'd both had people who had put their best interest above ours, selfish people, and it was kind of soothing to simply not think about others.

Bella was selfish.

I winced and wanted to slap myself for it. It's a name, Jacob. Just a fucking name, get a grip. She's probably dead by now, anyway. You saw what the thing in her womb did to her.

I leaned back against the table and tried not to throw up in Leah's kitchen. Because she'd be pissed. Royally.

Who cares if that bi – Leah – is pissed when Bella is possibly laying on her deathbed with the bruised skin of her belly ripping open? – Do not throw up! – For god's sake why didn't I stay with her?

Because she was selfish and it had been about time for me to quit lusting after a married, and apparently crazy, woman.

She really hid it well, the selfishness. Yes, it was Bella. Yes, I was hopelessly smitten by her. Yes, she probably felt awful for breaking my heart one, two… a gazillion times. But it didn't really… oh, who was I kidding, it didn't make her actions better at all.

I had let her fall into me when she'd been abandoned, fixed her up piece by piece, just because. I didn't have a specific reason for loving her, besides her crimson blush; that candy eyes; the true, bright interest that shines in her eyes whenever I tell her about the things that make up my life; her little awkward movements and the adorable carefreeness that showed from time to time.

And when he had begged her to take him back she had done so without an afterthought, without thinking Hey, what if he does the same thing once again, in a few months' time? Who will be there to fix me then? But even though she had left me lying in the dirt for him I kept on being her friend, letting her use me. I had been willing to do everything for her and I had wanted to be her "sun". And that under the humble condition of giving me a chance.

But she never gave me what I so desperately needed, always sought what she craved alone. Him. And me. Both of us; only that he had gotten every chance he had ever asked for. Couldn't she have chosen one of us, preventing the other from permanent heartbreak that way? I scoffed. Of course not, what a question. Bella had to keep both of us close.

Oh, and it was so over. JakeandBells was over. I would stand tall and I would not give in to that admittedly big part of me that screamed and fought to give her my battered heart on a silver plate, like oh-so many times before. No, not anymore.

I was beyond pissed at Isabella Cullen.

And I needed some air or yesterday's dinner would make its grand second appearance.

I rushed outside and almost forgot to close the front door behind me. The clean, fresh, pine-scented air filled my lungs and I found myself able to relax a little. That whole no-phasing concept was gnawing on my nerves – and obviously weakened my stomach big time.

I sat down on the porch-steps and rested my chin on my palms. It's only been a week and the heated ripples that ran down my spine came more and more frequently, phasing really was like an addiction. Of course it was, phasing was a huge part of what and who I was. I had to struggle keeping my cool more than normally and it made me wonder how it was even possible to quit. Not like I saw that as an option for the next few years, decades, but really…

I gazed straight ahead of me, at the dirty gravel road that led who-knows-where, at the trees that loomed on the other side of the road, a dark green wall separating me from something I couldn't put my finger on.

It was hard to admit, but I missed home. It was probably because this place reminded me of Washington although the sun was shining mercilessly, the ground was dry and the woods were actual forests, not a jungle kind of thing. It was that feeling of being connected to nature that was the same. Nevada had been nothing like this, somehow. I thought of all the states I had passed through in my "journey away from Bella", of Idaho and Nevada and Oregon and, now, California.

All my thoughts had been consumed by betrayal, of "he ruined her life", "why am I so fucking weak" and the need to get away. I hadn't cared about my surroundings at all. But now that I was kind-of-forced to stay here for some time I had started to take in my environment again.

It only strengthened the pull on my muscles and joints that demanded for me to give in to my other half, escape my human body and exchange it for something monstrous and entirely canine.

I really needed to convince Leah that she couldn't hide forever. But wouldn't that make me a hypocrite? I sighed and stood up, walked down the steps and tried to decide what to do. Running was sadly not an option because I felt like I should keep my promise.

But what else was there to do? Staying inside was getting old pretty fast, I was a nature person.

I scowled at the lush grass beneath my bare feet.

If you were, like me, only clad in a pair of shorts your options on going out were pretty limited. I couldn't just walk into a diner half-naked. That is, sure I could, it was just the staff that wouldn't be happy about it. The male staff.

"Whatever, I'll go and buy me a shirt or two," I told myself. With what money? my more reasonable conscience asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Uh, yeah, well. With what money? I felt out my shorts pockets. Left? Naw. Right? Oh.

My fingers brushed against crumpled paper. Score, baby. I pulled out two rather worn-looking ten dollar notes.

Maybe, if I was lucky, I'd find a supermarket with tees on sale. I stuffed the money back into the pocket and looked around, wondering into which direction I was to walk if I wanted to stumble upon stores.

My eyes closed and I concentrated on listening. Chirping birds, rustling leaves, animals, the wind howling, the crashing of waves, distant voices and the clattering of plates and pans echoed in the air around me but nothing told me what I needed to know.

Groaning, I stalked off towards a high pine and pulled myself up, hands grasping the lowest branch. From there, I jumped onto the next and the next and the next, until I reached the treetop. Please, don't let anybody spot me climbing trees.

The view was breathtaking, really, it was. Ocean, woods, hills, cliffs and all. But I had no nerve to dwell on the beauty of the landscape, so I swiftly turned, following the dirt road with my eyes. It was hard to make out houses beneath the thick cover of trees, but once the number of trees lessened it was easy to catch sight of several grey to yellow buildings. Surely there would be stores, right? Every town has a supermarket, even La Push.

"Well, I guess I'll find out."

One. No more, no less. One – tiny – store. And it had taken me almost one hour to find it, earning me funny looks as I walked through town as if it was 95°f or something. But when you run at toasty 108.9 degrees you tend to not being able to figure the outside temperature.

I wiped a black strand of hair off my forehead – my hair was getting long again. I thought about cutting it as I stepped through the door, a bell jingled and announced my presence. Inside the store it was comfy, a little cramped maybe. Groceries and co on the left aisles, flowers and toiletries on the right ones.

"Hey Stretch, you new in town?"

I looked up – well, down – and met eyes with a tiny, brunette girl, sitting at the register. She was smiling kindly, light brown curls falling into her face, matching color with her eyes. I sucked in a breath. She reminded me of, of… No, you are so not going there. It's over, remember? Yeah, it was over, but it was still hard. Because no matter what I told myself, I was still in love with her.

"Yeah, staying at a friend's," I managed to answer, my voice sounding somewhat huskier than I remembered it to be. Great, make a fool outta yourself, why don't you?

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, apparently trying hard to keep her gaze on my face. At least she was polite.

"Uh, yeah. Do you sell shirts?" Suddenly, I felt utterly dumb. Today was not my day. The girl blushed slightly, only emphasizing her resemblance to Bella, and nodded.

"Follow me," she squeaked quietly and got up from behind the register, making her way to the back of the store. I trailed a few meters behind her, busy with listing all the things that separated her from the girl that had breaking my heart as a hobby. That curls, Bella doesn't have that much of them… and the shade of her hair isn't as dark as Bella's. And Bella is definitely clumsier that her.

"We've only got those. I – uh – I don't know if they're your size." She had stopped in front of a clothes rack, blushing nervously. She'snotBella. NotBellaNotBellaNotBella.

"Thanks," I muttered, stepping forward and pretending to be examining a grey t-shirt that would be to short for me anyhow.

"I'll be at the counter," she uttered and the next thing I heard were her tiny footsteps against the stone floor. I exhaled. If getting over her was going to be like this the odds were really against me.

I looked back down at the tee in my hands and hung it back onto the rack while shaking my head. Somehow I doubted they had my size in store. With a twinge of hopelessness I searched through the many layers of cloth, holding several to my chest in order to estimate if there was any possibility for them to fit.

After what I assumed were about 15 minutes I found a shirt that would cover me up fully but was probably a little too tight. Whatever, it would do. I made my way to the counter, grasping the black dyed cotton in my hand. Cashier-girl looked up from the old-looking Vogue she was busying herself with and hurried to put it away, straightening up in her seat.

"Oh, you've found something," she commented, a little surprised.

"Yep," I said, forcing myself to smile at her. It wasn't her fault that she looked like her last name could be Swan. I handed her the shirt and rocked back and forth on my heels, hands in pockets, looking forward to getting out of the little store.

"That makes," she paused to wipe a pretty persistent curl out of her eyes, "uhm, 11,50. Do you need a bag?" I looked down at my half-naked self and shook my head, the ghost of a smirk playing on my lips. I gave her the money and she took it shyly, handing me the shirt and my cash. I put on the shirt and thanked her, rushing – hopefully not too obviously – out of the door.

"Have a nice day!" I heard her call after me as the door fell closed behind me and I let out a sigh of relief. Note to self: never go clothes shopping again.

It was as if my whole body was pulsating, the air around me felt thick, dark and heavy. I was gripping the beer can with both hands, feeling my self control momentarily slipping away. My lips were stretched into a smile that wasn't a smile at all as I faced the blurring images behind my eyelids which I had originally wanted to will away.

Her hands on her belly, protective, instinctive, loving… painpainpainpainpain.

The can clattered on the ground beneath me, my hands now burying my face, hiding it from the world.

The soft cry that slipped past my lips was heard by no one, for no one was there and no one cared. My skin felt hot and clammy, giving me the urge to rip the dress from my body in a desperate attempt to cool down.

It was hothothothothot, the black fabric tore between my frantic fingers, hothothothot and the cold of the night didn't reach me, it recoiled from me and left me to seethe in the heat.

It didn't work, didn't work, didn't work. Why didn't it work?

I tripped over the dozen metal cans spread over the dirty earth and did nothing to prevent my fall, the world turned under my bruised body as I hit the ground, knocking the air out of my lungs.

Shakily, I rose back up to my feet, my knees and elbows tingled in the sharp wind. Home. I continued putting one foot in front of the other, moving like a zombie into the direction I could see light shining through closed windows.

My cheeks grew numb and my heart beat erratically as cried quietly – or was it loudly? – about everything and anything that crossed my mind.

My fist knocked against the door, once, twice, and the lights blurred in front of my eyes. I sobbed as the door was pulled open and I fell against a warm chest, the sobs rocking my body.

I buried my face in the thin material of his shirt and inwardly begged, on my knees, for someone to hold me. My ears were deaf, I didn't hear the voices, I only felt the heat increase as I was being cradled in a pair of arms.

With my kid on my shoulders I try
Not to hurt anybody I like
But I don't have the drugs to sort,
I don't have the drugs to sort it out, sort it out
I don't have the drugs to sort it out, sort it out

Your voice has stolen my soul, soul, soul

The National – Afraid Of Everyone

A/N: Hey people! :D I just wanted to say that I've got a livejournal (link on profile), so if you want a heads up when I'm about to update, if you have questions etc. you should check it out. Don't forget to review please c: Happy, confused, mad, annoyed? Tell me!

Loves, Kora.