I couldn't stop grieving, not for a long time. Never had I known such tears. Hot and thick, they poured from my eyes until they were red and puffy, and everything in front of me became blurry. For all I knew, days, weeks, and months passed in this river of grief. The moon could have gone dark, waxed full, then waned to nothing again and I would still have been crying. I was not one to despair over my problems, not one to let go of the things I believed in or wanted with all my heart… but when those things included another person, and that person had given up, what then?

I had been so sure we would make it. Yes, things had gotten worse and worse over the last month. He had grown even further apart from me, withdrawn, become secretive and moody. But I didn't lose faith. I had supported him, believing that, in time, he would be able to share his pain with me. I thought we had all the time in the world to get through this. How could I know he had his eyes on my cousin instead?

Is that why it ended? I couldn't believe it was because he actually had feelings for Emily. There was a reason Emily and I were like sisters- we were so alike. I thought maybe in her he saw some misguided image of a chance to start fresh with someone as close to me as he could get, but without all our baggage. But even that theory cut me to the core. I couldn't understand why he didn't want to work things out with me. I had always thought that all we would need on our side was love, and with that we could get through anything. I couldn't believe how wrong I'd been.

I couldn't believe he'd ended us, ended all our hopes and dreams and conversations about college, marriage, and children. His explanations- no, his excuses- had been pitiful. He had given me no reasons, no good ones anyway. Nothing I could accept as real. And yet he didn't want me. I had done everything to make him feel safe and loved even when there was clearly something very wrong going on in his life… but it hadn't been enough. And when he left he took the light from my life along with him. Now I was left with nothing but an obsession over trying to figure out the exact moment when he had stopped loving me.

I sobbed into my pillow until I thought my throat would burn away. After three days, I still hadn't changed out of the clothes I'd been wearing when he dumped me. I also hadn't eaten, and I'd barely slept. It could have been a year for all I knew of time.

I was not this kind of girl. I didn't spend days in my bed, worrying my mother, scaring my little brother, sobbing until my pillow became soaked in my own misery. I didn't get hung up on heartache or disappointment; I carried on even when things looked bad. But had I ever seen anything worse than this? I had finally met the thing that could knock the wind out of me, and I thought I might never learn how to breathe again.

Emily was frustratingly persistent. On the evening of that third day, a slice of light fell across my face and my pupils contracted as I jerked my head under the blanket. "Go away," I said firmly. My father, mother, and brother had all obeyed this order at various times over the last couple of days. They hadn't given up, but they were waiting. But not her. She ignored my wishes instead, and crawled under the blanket with me.

"Leah-beah," she whispered into my hair, a childhood nickname that sounded stupid on her adult lips. But it made the tears well up again, and she seized her chance to wrap her arms around me from behind and hold my shaking body close to hers.

"Emily," I whispered. "This can't be happening."

"I know," she whispered back, this sister I'd never had. I couldn't resist her comfort the way I could resist my parents or even Seth, and so I rolled over and curled into her chest, soaking her shirt with my tears. I felt bad that she had to deal with this; her visit here was supposed to have been fun. Now she was left taking care of me with one hand while fending off the advances of the boy who had broken my heart with the other.

"Leah-beah," she said again. "Why don't we get up?"

"I can't get up," I whispered. The idea seemed astronomical.

"Just to the living room," she prodded. "We'll watch a movie."

"I don't want to go out there. I don't want to deal with everyone."

"Your parents are out," she said gently. "And Seth is at a friend's house. It'll be just you and me… I bought chocolate ice cream. They say it fixes a broken heart."

My tears welled up again and she held me as I sobbed. I couldn't imagine that this could ever be fixed. But I let her get me up, I let her wrap me in a robe and cart me out into the bright light of the living room, sit me in front of the television, where she put on some comedy I can't remember and set to work braiding the strands of my dirty hair, weaving in beads of glass she'd made in her own workshop at home. I let her mother me, and I had to grudgingly admit that I felt better afterward… but nowhere near normal.

As the days passed, I noticed that Emily wore my heartache more and more like it belonged to her, like she had some kind of fault in it all. I took this as a sign of her unending love for me, looking past the guilt in her eyes for what I wanted to see, ignoring what I didn't. I am a very observant person, but I made sure I didn't notice the building remorse and shame on my cousin's face as the days turned into weeks. There was a limit to what I could take at one time, and she was being so good to me.

Once, I thought I heard Sam's voice in the house, but when no one came to get me, I thought I'd been hallucinating. How could I have known he was still coming to the house, still begging Emily to see him, fuelling her guilt? My whole family conspired to hide that truth from me. I couldn't have known, and even if someone had told me, I probably wouldn't have listened. She was helping me, and I needed her.

No one else was really there for me. The other people on the Rez, they were sure Sam had left me because he couldn't hold his own life together, and they'd long since dismissed it as old news. Sometimes I wished I could believe that too, but I couldn't really put my heart into it. I knew that wasn't the truth, even if I had no idea what his real reasons were.

My father and I had this strange, awkward conversation at one point where he tried to convince me that Sam's dumping me was for the best, and that in the long run we would both be happier, and that I should move on and allow him to move on as well. This was less than a week after Sam had ended our eighteen-month relationship, so I ignored his advice. Moving on wasn't even on my radar; I was still hoping for reconciliation, that he would come to his senses. My mother tried to comfort me, but she was very busy and could only do so much, and Seth had no idea how to cheer me up, and spent most of his time trying to hide his own disappointment. But mostly, no one talked about Sam, as though they feared that even speaking his name in my presence would send me back to my bed again. Emily was my only support.

Then one night, she didn't come home when I expected her. That evening she had convinced me that taking a bath would make me feel better, but when I dressed in my pajamas and found her in the living room, she was just hanging up the phone, and she was clearly on edge.

"What's wrong?" I asked, frowning at her as I sat down next to her. A week ago I wouldn't have noticed the discomfort on her face, as I was so engrossed in my own problems, so I took my concern for her as a measure of my own improvement. I wondered if something was wrong at home; Emily was visiting from her own reservation. She was Makah, not Quileute, but despite the sixty miles that separated our homes, our families had always made an effort to spend time together.

"Nothing," she answered me after a moment, but she looked preoccupied.

"Are you sure?"

She smiled at me. "I'm sure," she said, shaking her head as though she could shake off her distraction. "Hey," she continued. "I got us another movie."

I groaned. "Please tell me it's not a comedy."

"Sorry… it is," she said with a grin. It slipped a little as she added, "I'm kind of craving chocolate though… do you mind if I run out to the store and grab us a couple of bars?"

"Sure," I answered. "Do you want me to come?"

"No," she said, too quickly, and then softened her hurry with a smile. "No, it's fine. I'll be quick."

"Okay…" I watched her as she rose and slipped on her shoes, and then she gave me another quick half-smile before she hurried from the house. Outside, I heard her car start up, and then I heard it pull away.

An hour later, she still wasn't back. There was no way she should have taken that long, but I chose not to panic. I distracted myself with homework for another half-hour, and then I nervously tidied first my room, then Seth's. But when the two-hour mark passed, I couldn't make any excuses anymore. There was no way I could deny that she was far too late. Something was wrong; something had happened.

I was just walking out the door when the phone rang. Quickly I ran for it, grabbing it off its cradle and trying to calm my voice right before I answered.

But my mother was anything but calm. Even though she was clearly trying to be, her voice was high with worry and fear. "Leah," she said. "Can you come to the clinic?"

She meant the health and family centre; she split her time between there and the hospital, but she liked the clinic better because it was on the Rez and she got to treat and serve her own people instead of strangers.

"Yeah," I answered. "Why, what's happened?"

"It's your cousin," she answered. "She's been hurt."

My heart froze. "Is she okay?" I whispered.

There was a hesitation before my mother answered. Finally she said, "She will be. Just come on, Leah… I think she needs you right now."

"I'm on my way," I promised, and hung up the phone, running out the door and to my car as fast as I could. I drove quickly, and made it to the clinic in just under ten minutes. It was after-hours, but my mother had a key, so all the lights were on.

I was surprised to see my father and brother in the waiting room, and Seth looked scared and upset. Quickly I went to them, and as soon as he saw me Seth moved away from my father and threw his arms around my waist. He was twelve years old then, and it had been at least six months since he'd hugged me in public, but I could feel the fear in his small body as he stood in my arms. I kissed the top of his head and rubbed my hand gently over his back to soothe him as I turned my questioning eyes on my father.

"Emily was attacked," he told me. I waited. "A bear came down from the ridge… it was a bad salmon run this year. It must have been starving to come onto the Rez. Some of the guys are already out hunting for it."

"Where is she?" I asked, horrified.

"Room one," he answered. "With your mother."

"It got her face," Seth's small voice came from below me. I looked down into his eyes, which were shining with unshed tears. I smoothed the hair back from his face and gave his shoulders a squeeze.

"Stay here with Dad," I said gently, stroking a hand over his soft cheek as he nodded. I let go of my little brother and hurried down the clinic hallway, feeling the dread rising in the pit of my stomach as I reached the door of the first exam room. Hardly knowing what I would find, I opened it.

The lights were dim. Emily was lying on the table, her hands folded over her chest. She looked okay aside from the huge, bloodstained bandages that covered the whole right side of her face. My mother sat in a chair next to her, writing something on a piece of paper, as I entered the room. I couldn't tell if Emily was asleep or unconscious.

"Leah," my mother greeted me gently, her eyes full of sympathy as she took in the shock on my face. She held me close for a moment, and then with one glance in Emily's direction she left us alone. I approached the table apprehensively, but when I got close I realized that Emily wasn't asleep at all. Her left eye, the only one uncovered by bandages, looked at me, and a few tears squeezed out. Quickly I grabbed her hand.

"Emily," I said softly. "God… are you okay?" It was a stupid question, but I didn't know what else to say to her.

"My face hurts," she whispered. I saw a thin seam in her top lip open as she spoke, and her mouth gleamed with blood. Quickly I grabbed a gauze wipe and held it there until the bleeding stopped.

"Mom says you're going to be okay," I told her.

"I don't know," she answered softly, her voice so quiet I had to lean down just a little to hear her properly. "I feel so lost."

"That must have been so scary," I said, shaking my head. "I saw a grizzly bear once… it crossed the highway in front of me and my dad when I was little." Emily glanced away from me, but she said nothing. I figured she didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to relive that experience, and I couldn't blame her. So instead I sat quietly, holding her hand in both of mine.

Soon, my mother came back and told me that Emily was well enough to go home. Her bandages would have to be changed frequently over the coming days, and she would have a scar, but she was expected to make a full recovery. I was relieved, but I didn't realize the true extent of her injuries until the next day, when I helped my mother remove her dirty bandage to replace it with a fresh one.

All down the right side of my cousin's pretty face, from hairline to chin, her skin was torn in three long, ragged claw marks. They skirted her eyeball, causing it to bulge slightly from the socket on one side, which my mother promised would improve, and the animal's claws had slashed into the top of her lip, as well pulling open its corner, so even if she felt like smiling, she couldn't do it properly anymore.

In a way, her injuries helped me to put my own problems into perspective. Though I felt I would carry the grief of my broken heart until the day I died, it was at least an invisible blight. My heart ached as I looked at her, knowing that she would have to wear the evidence of this night on her face for the rest of her life.

In the days that followed, I noticed a definite change in Emily. Where she had been gregarious, bubbly, friendly and full of life, she was now uncertain, withdrawn, and self-conscious. The deep cuts on her face were healing over, but it was obvious that the scars she was going to be left with would never be discreet. I grieved for her, and for all the things she had to lose because of what seemed like just a random, cruel twist of nature.

Two weeks after she'd been mauled by the bear, Sam showed up at my house. I was completely unprepared to open the front door and see him standing there, his hands in his pockets, his eyes meeting mine with discomfort. We hadn't spoken in over a month, and I had long ago given up hope that he might come to see me. But in spite of myself, I felt a flutter of hope as I saw him standing there.

"Hi Leah," he said softly. "I heard about Emily… I wanted to see her… to see if she was okay."

The flutter in my heart died as I glared at him. "She's fine," I answered sharply.

"Can I see her?" he asked. His voice was urgent as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and I could see that his fists were clenched in his pockets, as though he was trying to stop himself from barging into the house and running to Emily's side. His behaviour dumbfounded me.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to throw him from my doorstep, to shove him backward into our yard and scream at him until my throat grew as raw and ragged as my heart. But I couldn't. Instead, I opened the door to him and let him come inside. He immediately started to make a beeline for Emily's room, but I grabbed his arm before he could go. He looked like he wanted to shrug me off, but he didn't.

"Is it true?" I whispered. Slowly, he turned back to face me. I was taken aback at the horror in his eyes.

"Is what true?" he breathed.

"That you were coming around here, trying to flirt with her, even before you broke up with me," I answered, and I was surprised when relief flooded his face. What had he thought I was going to say?

"Leah…" He trailed off. "I don't… I know this is impossible for you. I'm sorry. I wish I could explain."

"I don't believe you," I said bitterly. "If you wished that then you'd tell me the truth about everything instead of keeping secrets. I'm not your girlfriend anymore but I thought you loved me enough not to hide your whole life from me." It felt good to say the words, to let some of my anger out, but I still felt tears creeping into my voice as I spoke.

"I know," he said softly. His eyes flickered towards Emily's bedroom and I let out a breath of frustration, waving my hand in that direction. He took off like I'd released him from some kind of physical bondage, like he'd been tied to me against his will and I'd finally cut the rope to set him free. It made me sick.

I wanted badly to follow him and listen in on their conversation, but for Emily's sake, I didn't. Sometimes, I wonder how different my life might have been if I had.