Warning: This chapter is a bit steamy. So if this bothers/offends you or if there's audiences around you would rather not see this, um…just don't read.

Also, this chapter mentions suicide and is somewhat depressing…so read carefully!

Sorry for the shit chapter, guys. I'm not feeling too great…but when do I ever?

Chapter Eighteen - Not Used to This

Three months had passed since Ciara's suicide. Three impossibly long months. I spent most of the time sleeping or being wrapped in Seth's arms, my head bowed against his shoulders. I refused to believe that Ciara was gone. There was just no way she could be. Her death hit me in a way I didn't expect, forcing me to wake up some nights with frantic tears streaming down my face.

I'd never liked her much, and I guess you could say I got over her death rather abruptly. But it really made me realize how quickly, how unexpectedly, someone could be gone, and it scared me.

I'd hesitated to tell Heather about Ciara. I wasn't sure, considering the fact that she was pregnant, if the shock and everything would do something horrible to the baby. I knew I'd have to tell her eventually, though, so that night, I woke her up and delivered the news. All she did was glumly put a hand on her stomach and sigh, unlike myself, who had been through about forty sobfests already.

The funeral was held a few days after Charlie told me the news. It was a quiet ceremony, considering that Heather and I, the only people to attend (several La Push residents had asked to, but we refused politely, wanting to do it just by ourselves) and didn't last very long. I left a white petunia on Ciara's grave and walked away quickly, wiping at my eyes.

Heather and I weren't holding up too well. We were constantly getting into arguments that were worse than ever, considering that our mother was dead and Heather was hormonal as hell. Once, we even got into a fistfight that left me with a bleeding lip and her a black eye. Later, I felt awful about it because I could have injured the baby, but I did not apologize. It was her fault, anyway.

I tried to focus on other things, like Seth. He was now back to living with Sue after a huge argument they'd had, but he was constantly coming over to check up on Heather and I. And I don't know whether it was just being a teenager or me trying to make up for the absence I now felt - I still hadn't decided whether or not I loved him, and felt horribly guilty for it - I was really, really rushing our relationship along. It was probably wrong, and if it all came crashing down, it would be my fault, but sometimes I couldn't help myself.

Times like this:

"Oh, God, Seth, look at this." I dragged the magazine I'd found lying around the Clearwater's house in front of him. It blared all over the cover about some celebrity being pregnant or something. I scoffed. "As if anyone cares that much."

"Yeah," replied Seth. "The media gets pretty crazy."

"I know, right? It's ridiculous." I stood up to throw the magazine away - it wasn't as though Sue was going to read it, anyway, she hated these types of magazines as much as I did - but tripped over my shoes, which I'd stuck on the floor, and landed smack on top of Seth. The impact knocked the air out of me and the magazine fell to the floor. Seth blinked at me, and I blinked at him, and he suddenly smiled.

"Well, this is awkward, isn't it?" he asked.

"Not really." I dropped my head against his chest and yawned. He was so warm and comfortable that I wanted to go to sleep right there. "I'm tired," I added.

"You're always tired."

"Yeah, well…get over it," I responded.

Seth pretended to be hurt. "You're so mean," he said.

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Look." I raised my head up and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "There. Do mean people kiss other people?"

"Yes."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, faking offense.

He grinned and sat up, linking an arm around my back. Then Seth kissed me with more passion than usual - taking me at first by surprise, but I lost myself in it at some point or another.

Then, of course, I had to screw up everything. As usual.

All I did was reach a hand under his shirt. Honestly. I didn't mean anything by it. But I wasn't going to point the finger of blame at Seth, because it was my fault. I was an idiot for trying to push him like this. A huge idiot.

Seth gently took my hand in his and met my eyes with a look. That was all it took for me to know that I'd fucked up. Big time. Cheeks burning red with embarrassment, I slid off of him and sat up, trying to wipe away the tears of humiliation as subtly as I could.

There had been several times like this ever since, all with the same outcome. Sometimes I was the one who messed up, sometimes it was him, sometimes both of us. And each time I just felt so embarrassed, no matter who was the one. I'd never been with a guy on such a serious level and I wasn't used to it. It was weird and wonderful and horrible and bound to happen... I couldn't describe it. But though I might not have understood how or why, I knew that things between Seth and I had changed, not counting the crazy hormones.

I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Heather had not been very happy lately. She was now seven months pregnant and a grump. If she wasn't complaining, she was eating, if she wasn't eating, she was demanding I get her newest craving, and when she wasn't doing that, she was sleeping. This certain day, I'd been stuck at home all day long because it was rainy and I hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. The only things I did would be talking to Seth and Kim on the phone. I was sitting on the stairs, yawning and wishing my headache would go away, when two doors banged open at once. One was from the kitchen, the other was the front door.

"You will never believe what kind of shit--" began Heather, looking pissed off.

"Emily and Sam--" Seth said.

They stopped talking at the same time and looked at each other. "You go first," said Seth.

Heather sat on the couch, and I crept down the stairs and took a seat next to her while Seth copied me. "I'm warning you that this is upsetting," Heather began warily.

"I can take it."

"Okay, well…some lawyer dude just called me. Since Ciara is dead--" I winced at the word "--and neither of us have custody of CJ, he's going to be…er…put up for adoption," Heather finished glumly, putting a hand on her big stomach. A tear followed the tracks of others that must have been shed earlier.

My heart dropped down to my stomach.

"W-What?" I choked, my breath catching. "No, that…no…can't you adopt him or something…?"

"I can't. I've been trying all these months and I can't. I…I can't." Heather buried her face in her hands and trembled. Normally I would have been trying to prevent her from falling apart, but now I was trying to keep up my own walls.

The rain was coming down in sheets now, kicking the windows, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the rapid breathing of my heart. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump.

I had only one thought:

I. Can't. Breathe.

It was ironic that, at that moment, one of CJ's wails echoed down the stairs. Seth stood without a word and went to go get him. I could feel another panic attack coming on, another lethal panic attack. My airway was clogged up, like someone was squeezing a hand around my neck. I could feel a strange kind of pressure overcoming me, trying to push me down, down, down.

Heather was looking at me now with watery eyes. "Willow, are you okay?" she asked.

No. No, no, no. Wrong. Incorrect. Game over, thanks for playing. I was not fine. Horrible, actually; I hadn't felt this bad in a long time, since I'd very seriously considered suicide when I was fifteen. Sorrow had spread its bittersweet wings over the atmosphere, but now there was something different: I was mad.

I stood up and stalked around the room. What kind of fucking loser couldn't keep their own family together? Me. If I had just gone with Ciara when she moved, I could have prevented her from dying. If I had done this, CJ would still be staying with us. Hell, I should have gotten myself run over by a car as soon as I had the chance. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

I could hear Seth in the background asking Heather if she would like to hold CJ, her replying with a yes. I felt his eyes on the back of my head, and turned around to meet them.

He was concerned. Walking towards me. Opening his mouth. Holding his arms out to envelop me.

That was when I started to cry.

Seth ran for me, but somehow, I was faster. I tore up the stairs and darted into my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it. My hands were shaking. I flung myself on my bed and crawled under the covers, trying so hard to find a way to hide. I eventually curled up and let the tears flow, never blinking, just staring. Just staring. Just staring.

There was a series of knocks on the door that I ignored. I tried to make myself cry harder. Maybe if all of the water in my body escaped through my eyes, I would dry up and die. I hoped so.

"Willow, please," Seth whined from the other side of the door.

No.

"Don't make me break this door down, because I can," threatened Seth.

From somewhere downstairs, there was a sudden burst of hysterical wailing. CJ. I could hear Heather trying to calm him down, but it didn't do anything at all.

"Willow," pleaded Seth quietly.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I growled. I didn't feel like dealing with him. I felt like dying.

"It's not your fault," Seth said.

I wasn't going to respond to that. I wasn't going to point out that he was wrong. I wished he would just go away. Which was what I said next.

There was a long, long pause. I could almost hear the gears in Seth's brain working together. He eventually began, "If you're thinking of killing yourself, I'm right here. It's fine, Willow. It's fine."

"Don't," I said, gasping for breath. The tears came running, choking me. "Please, don't."

"But Willow, I lo--"

I put my hands over my ears. I didn't want to hear the rest of that sentence. I was sick of people lying to me. All I wanted was the truth, but ironically, I got everything false.

Then the thoughts started.

Who the fuck did Seth think he was, lying to me like this? He knew it hurt me. He knew it. Way to drum up sympathy for poor little Seth, whose dad had died and his "girlfriend" didn't love him. Way to take away any self-confidence I'd ever had by taking it away and throwing it down the garbage with his lies. Those stupid, stupid lies.

The guilt started around that point. Of course it wasn't Seth's fault. It was mine. It was mine for pushing him away and hurting him so much. I was the one who was supposed to be stepped on and injured, the one who deserved it. Not Seth. Never Seth.

There was a weird kind of crunching sound and I cautiously peeked out. Seth had broken the lock and was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, frowning. I groaned as he came to sit down next to me.

"How many times will it take me to say 'It's not your fault' and make you believe it?" he asked, helping me sit up.

"Too many." I had a headache. Ugh.

"Well, it's not your fault. Multiplied by infinity."

"Shut up," I replied, rubbing at my eyes. Just the fact that he was here made me feel a little less panicked, but not much. At least I could breathe easier, though.

"You," said Seth, "need to sleep."

"No I don't," I muttered, but I could already feel sleep dragging down my eyelids. And just like that, I was suddenly so tired. Of everything. The initial horror and despair of CJ's situation had started to ebb away, to be replaced by exhaustion. I just needed to sleep. And never wake up.

Waking up was awkward, but it would have been even more so if Seth was awake. His arm was slung around me and he was drooling all over my pillow, but, thankfully, he was asleep. I edged out from under him and tried to stand up. Unfortunately, I tripped over his legs and came crashing down to land on the floor with a loud thud. My head smacked against the bed frame and I saw stars.

Somehow, Seth was still asleep. I scrambled to my feet and looked around for a piece of paper and something to write with. I eventually found a sticky note and a pen and, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head, and wrote a quick note, leaving it on the bedside table and exiting the room as quickly as possible.

Went for a walk. Be back later.

-Willow

It was cold outside, considering that it was now early December. Considering everything that had been going on lately, I hadn't been paying much attention to the weather, and now I was starting to regret it. I needed to buy some season-appropriate outfits, and quickly, before I froze.

Rain dribbled off of leaves and slid onto the soft ground. I shivered. La Push weather was just so insane; just a few days ago I'd been sweating up a storm and now it was cold cold cold. I slipped on a pile of leaves and steadied myself just as a voice behind me said, "Hi, Willow."

I turned around. A girl around my age was standing there in a designer coat and boots, smiling. She looked really familiar and, as I thought about it, I realized where I knew her from: she'd asked to use my phone a while back. She was Rochelle, the girl who lived down by Dan's.

"Oh, hey, Rochelle," I replied, wondering what she was doing out here so early. But then again, she was probably thinking the same thing about me.

"Long time no see, huh?" she asked. "Look, I'm sorry that I'm saying it so late, but I heard about your mom and I'm really, really, really sorry that happened. That must suck. I mean, if it were me, I'd probably, like, die." But Ciara was not her mother, so she really had no idea what she was thinking about. Nevertheless, I was touched by her sympathy. "I'm here for you if you ever need me, alright?"

"Alright. Thanks."

"No biggie. Anyway, the main reason I'm here is because your friend asked me to get you…she said she had to talk to you about something."

"Who?"

"She said her name was…well, her last name was Clearwater…and her first name was…uh…" Rochelle slapped a hand to her forehead as she remembered. "Oh, yeah, that's right! Leah."