Chapter III

Paul's pov:

It was dark by the time I finally limped back home ... and considering the thorough seeing to my imprint had given me, limping was all I was good for. I was in no shape to do anything else ...

After Sam forced me to leave his cabin, to stay away from him for good, I wandered around aimlessly. In a complete daze. I won't lie, but I was devastated by his rejection. My world, what was left of it, came crashing all around me as soon as I heard those cold, cruel words ... the finality in the tone of his voice and the grim determination of his stance only reinforced his decision. I ached when Sam said what had happened - what we'd shared - was nothing but a "fucking mistake" ... and to hear him softly snarl, "By the time I've finished, I expect you to collect your shit and not be here. I want you gone ... Don't bother coming back ... Just stay the fuck away from me, Paul ... for good," literally broke me.

I'd hoped and in hindsight, I'd been naive wishing for it, that even if Sam didn't want me the way that I longed for and craved him, that at least he'd forgive me ... that we could remain friends. But now it was obvious that he didn't want to. That he didn't care about our friendship, our brotherhood ... about me. The way he avoided my gaze earlier as he kicked me out of his home ... and refused to turn around and look at me as he did so, gave away his feelings and his thoughts about me all too clearly. I was nothing to him. He hated me.

Eventually, I found myself at the end of the path to my house, staring blindly at it and having no recollection how I'd gotten there. It was the sound of furious yelling and the sharp crack of skin connecting with skin which halted me in my tracks. The old man was loaded as usual and taking out his bitter frustrations and anger on my mom - again. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, I ducked around the side of the house and heard the front door open then suddenly slam closed. My dad staggered outside clutching a bottle of Jack and unsteadily made his way towards his truck, cussing and badmouthing my mom with every step he took. I watched him clamber into the truck and it wasn't long before I heard the old rust bucket fire into life and he recklessly tore off the Res towards Forks. And as I watched him leave, it wasn't for the first time in my life that I absently wished that he'd end up wrapped around a lamp post or crashed into a tree ... not just for my sake, but for my mom's.

I know wishing my dad dead will never help me win "Son of the Year," but for nineteen years he's never done anything to earn my respect or my love. My mom may be weak and frightened, but at least she loves me in her own way ... even though she dares not show it in front of him. And I don't want her to, 'cause when it boils down to it, he's a possessive bastard ... A jealous bully who just wants her at his beck and call and no one else's ... and he's been like that since the day I was born. Hell ! My mom's only thirty seven and from all accounts, she used to be a right looker. A real stunner. She's still pretty, but her beauty's faded. It's lost its vibrancy as she always looks tired and browbeaten. And that's all down to him - the piece of scum she got hitched to, after falling pregnant on the very same night she lost her virginity to him.

I just can't help feeling that things would've been different for mom if I was never in the picture. If I hadn't been born. Maybe her life would've been better ... that she'd have had some chance of happiness. That my old man would've cut her some slack. That he'd be less of a bastard to her. But for all her timidity and her introverted nature, as soon as she realized he'd knocked her up, she rebelled for the first and only time against him. Mom fought to keep me. Defiantly refused to have me aborted or adopted after I was born. And he never forgave or forgot that one act of rebellion ... that one act of love she showed someone other than him. And that's why the vindictive pig's treated us both like shit ever since ...

But now ? Feeling the way I do, I wish mom hadn't fought for me. That she hadn't loved me so much and kept me. That she'd put herself first for once. 'Cause thanks to that one act of defiance, I'm still alive. Still hurting ... and still aching for Sam. If only she'd given in to what the old reprobate wanted ... that she'd done as he'd demanded. That she'd got rid of me. I honestly feel I'd've been better off if I hadn't been born. At least then I wouldn't be suffering this torment ... this torture of having to stay away from the one person that's my entire world. I wouldn't have to put up with this fucking imprint screwing with me or feel as if I'm slowly, but surely, dying from the inside. And I do feel that way. I genuinely wish I was dead ... 'cause if I can't be with Sam, if I can't be around him, hear, see or even smell him, then my life has no meaning. It has no fucking purpose and everything and anything else is just frickin' pointless ...

It's only been a couple of hours since Sam told me to "stay the fuck away" from him and I'm already starting to feel as if I'm going crazy ... The fact that he used the Alpha command to force me to do what he wanted, is seriously tearing me apart. And knowing I can't fight against it is like fucking torture ... of the worst kind. I'm not sure what hurts the most right now. Whether the physical pain outweighs the mental and emotional agony I'm going through. All I do know is that I've never felt anything like it. With a deep sigh, I wrapped both arms carefully around my battered torso, grimacing at the sharp stab of pain as they came into contact with my ribs. That sudden agonizing spasm confirmed what I suspected earlier, that I'd either cracked or busted a couple of ribs. And the dull, constant ache in my chest was matched by the one in my nethers and served as a cruel reminder of the need, the desire and the love I had for my imprint.

Thanks to my acute hearing, I could hear mom shuffle unsteadily in the living room as she softly wept and it was all too easy to picture the anguish that ravaged her pretty, tear-stained face. I closed my eyes and sagged against the wall, wanting more than anything to go to and comfort her as I always had. But this time, I didn't. I couldn't. I held back and stayed away. Right now I couldn't deal with my mom and her problems, 'cause for once, I had my own shit to deal with ... and I was barely coping with it as it was. So, instead of barging in through the front door as I usually did, I took the coward's way out. I climbed up the back porch and sneaked in through my bedroom window, then slowly headed for the bathroom and locked the door.

XXXXX

Once I'd taken sanctuary in the bathroom, I hastily stripped off my stained cutoffs and hurled them into the dirty linen basket. As soon as I did it, I regretted it. I quickly rifled through the basket and pulled out the cutoffs, knowing no matter how thoroughly they were washed that I'd never be able to wear them again. Nope, as soon as mom had gone to bed I planned on burning them. There was no way in hell I was going to cling on to something that would just serve as a callous reminder of what I'd lost ... what I'd never have. I may be desperate, but I sure as hell ain't that dumb ...

Wincing, I moved slowly towards the shower and turned on the water. I was all too aware that I lacked my usual grace, that thanks to the persistent, dull ache in my loins every move I made was hesitant. Cautious even. As I waited for the water to reach the right temperature, I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror and my hands tightly gripping the edge of the sink beneath it until my knuckles turned white. I was suddenly struck by an overwhelming sense of loss ... of feeling lost and so very alone. Of rejection and abandonment. A wave of grief came over me, leaving me breathless and my heart began to constrict.

I must've stood with my head bowed for at least five minutes, 'cause by the time I finally looked up the mirror had misted up. After I'd wiped the condensation away with a trembling hand, I accidentally caught a glimpse of my reflection and was shocked by what I saw. In just a matter of hours, there was a sallow tinge to my russet skin and my eyes appeared haunted and cloaked with anguish and torment. I was a ghost of myself. And then there was my overall appearance ... Physically, I looked like crap. Like I'd gone ten rounds with a professional heavyweight boxer and come out of it on the losing side. There wasn't a part of me not covered in bruises, bites or scratches. It was as if I'd become the official poster boy for the walking wounded. Even after all the beatings I'd gotten off the old man, I'd never looked this bad. Nope, my beloved imprint had really outdone himself ... and had really done a number on me. One that I'd been physically, mentally and emotionally unable to stop or even defend myself. 'Cause when all's said and done, Sam's my imprint and I could never raise a hand to him ... no matter how badly he wronged me.

As I studied my reflection, I noticed most of the bruises were beginning to fade and would be gone by the next day and that the majority of the scratches and bites were already healing. Yet despite my healing ability, two still remained unaffected. The bruises on my hips, where Sam had possessively gripped them as he'd ruthlessly taken me, were particularly livid. But the mark which worried me the most was the bite situated at the base of my neck where it joined the shoulder. It was deep and vicious and unlike the other bites which had started to heal, still continued to smart and weep heavily. I gave a tremulous sigh and tentatively began to examine the bite. I'd barely laid a finger on its edge when the damn thing began to burn fiercely. Flinching at the pain, I quickly withdrew my finger and clumsily backed away from the mirror, my gaze fixed firmly on the bite and my brow furrowed by confusion. I only came to an abrupt halt when my back came into contact with the glass door of the shower cubicle. The vibration of the glass against my bare skin quickly drew me out of my daze as did the sound of continuous running water.

Five minutes later, I stood in the shower with my arms outstretched before me, braced against the cool, white, tiled wall. I revelled in the sensation of the hot spray as it cascaded past my shoulders and down my back. All I wanted was to feel cleansed. To have the spray's heat numb my pain if only for a short while. And it almost worked ... 'til my mind drifted and I imagined Sam's furious growl echoing in my head, its tone deep, sexy and commanding. After that, it was all too easy to recall his attractively musky scent; the feel of his powerful frame covering mine and his granite-hard length pounding mercilessly in me, unerringly striking my prostrate with every stroke. And that's when it all got too much for me. I broke down completely.

Before I realized what had happened, my knees buckled and my body had slid down against the surface of the wall. Drawing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I sat huddled in the corner of the shower, oblivious to the wet floor and the spray which continued to drench me. Then without warning, my body began to tremble. The violent shakes that racked my torso were immediately followed by a broken sob and the next thing I knew, my forehead was resting against my forearms and I was crying helplessly ... bawling like a little kid. And no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't stop the tears from falling.

XXXXX

Two weeks later.

Leah's pov:

God ! I'm knackered !

Thanks to those damn leeches - or as my Jake insists I call them, the Cullens and whiny, little Miss "the-whole-world-has-to-revolve-around-me" Swan - we're getting way more rogue vampire activity than normal. It doesn't help that we're a wolf down, thanks to Sam still being m.i.a. unfortunately, that means some of us have been pulling double shifts with the patrols. Hell ! It's not been easy having to cope with all the added crap those sparkly parasites cause and it's the likes of Jake, Embry, Jared, Paul and myself that have had to take up the slack. Well, we can't easily expect the younger Pack members to do extra patrols and deal with school as well, can we ? It wouldn't be fair to them. But it's tough and it stinks to high heaven that 'cause those bloodsuckers have their heads permanently wedged up their asses and won't take the hint to just fuck off from our turf, we have to put our lives on hold and constantly at risk and that seriously hacks me off ... especially when it eats into any potential quality time I have with Jake or with the rest of my family. Er, did I mention just how deeply I hate fucking vamps ? Or was I being rather too subtle about it ?

Anyhoo, Paul, god love him, has really been putting in the hours when it comes to patrolling. But lately, something seems "off" about him. Kinda like he's not firing on all cylinders. And that's just not like him. Ok, so he can be a hard, arrogant bastard. A really snarky, badass motherfucker. But when it comes down to the wire, when it really matters, Paul Lahote is actually a great Beta, simply 'cause he always has the back of each and every Pack member and even though we may fight and squabble amongst ourselves, we all know Paul would lay his life on the line for all of us 'cause for him, the Pack's his family. He may act like he doesn't give a shit, but our feisty hothead genuinely cares about us ... even if he always tends to vehemently deny it !

Like I said, our Paulie's definitely not been himself over these past two weeks. He's been - and this is extremely unusual for him - extremely quiet and subdued and no matter how hard he tries to hide it from the rest of us, hasn't been phasing as often as he should. And another thing that worries me, is that his eyes appear permanently shrouded with hurt and confusion ... and that's so not like him. But the real shocker is that he's "off" his food. Paul Lahote, the Pack's resident "bottomless pit," has lost his insatiable appetite for all things edible ... Something I never dreamt I'd see in this lifetime.

So now, instead of just worrying about our errant Alpha, I'm stressing over our Beta as well. At least I know why Sam's behaving the way he is and I can understand why he's acting the way he does. But Paul ? Well ... honestly ? I'm truly at a loss. I'm absolutely, utterly and completely fucked if I know what's wrong with him ...

XXXXX

OMG ... OMG. Oh-My-fucking-God ! Ooh ka-ay ... now I'm officially starting to get worried. That was my initial response to what I saw earlier today.

FLASHBACK

I'd just finished morning patrol with Paul and unusually for me, was patiently waiting for him to shift back so I could try to persuade him to come back to mine to eat with me and Jake. I know I always used to give him hell for eating like a pig at a trough, but now for fuck's sake, I'd give my eye teeth just to see him eat for once. Paul's love for food was notorious. His hunger voracious but lately, seeing him just pick at his meals and absently push it around his plate in a half-assed pretence at eating, is wigging me out. Before, he used to devour all that was laid in front of him and as he had the fastest metabolism - and a cast-iron stomach - out of all of the Pack, he'd quickly burn off any fat and was just sleek, toned muscle. But now ? Now he hardly eats a thing ... and boy, does it fucking show ...

I'd quickly tossed on a pair of skimpy denim cutoffs and a clean t-shirt and waited in the clearing for Paul to show his face, when I heard a painful retching sound from behind the bushes where Paul had ducked behind to get dressed. Curious, I walked up to the spot and to my horror saw something I never thought possible. Something I hardly dared believe.

Doubled up before me, with his arm braced against a tree trunk was our Beta. Paul was spewing up his guts and was clearly unwell. And extreme vomiting was something I'd never seen a shifter do before ... well, not after the first time they shifted. If I'm honest, Paul looked awful. Like shit. In fact, I've seen most of the Pack looking like crap, but that's usually down to injuries following a run in with a vamp, but P. actually looked like someone at death's door. I've never seen him so pale and his skin looked clammy and contrasted sharply with his glassy, yet feverish eyes.

"Fuck, Paul ! What's up with you ? " I walked up to him and lightly laid a hand on his back and began to rub circular patterns on his skin to try and soothe him. He spat and slowly raised his head, then roughly wiped his dry, chapped lips with the back of his hand. The look in his dark, velvety eyes told me everything I needed to know ... He had no idea what was wrong and appeared genuinely freaked out and confused.

"Dunno ... Haven't a goddamn clue, Lee. All I do know is that I feel like crap and I can't keep anything down. Must be some kinda bug or virus ..."

I kept my yap firmly shut. Wolves rarely got ill and if they did, it was usually something pretty big ... and nasty. And the last thing I wanted was our fiery Beta getting a wild hair up his ass over something we knew nothing about.

"Could be, I guess ... Hey ! C'mon, why don't you come back to mine for a bit ? I'll see if mom's got anything in that can help calm your stomach. She's always got all kinds of medicinal crap floating around the house. It might help ...I'll even make you breakfast, if you fancy it later ? What d'ya say ?" I watched him silently straighten up and was shocked to see his movements were graceless and lacked fluidity. He was sluggish and looked absolutely knackered. As if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. "You really should've told me if you weren't up for patrolling. I'd've covered for you, or at least got Jake, Embry or Jared to do your shift. You've done more than your fair share of covering for us over the past few weeks- "

Paul slowly shook his head and gave me a weak, half-hearted grin, "Nah, I'm good, Lee, but thanks ... Think I'll just head on home, y'know ? Try to sleep it off. I won't be the same wolf tomorrow, I swear ..." And to my dismay, he loped off before I even got a chance to gently bully him - for his own good, of course - into seeing things my way.

END OF FLASHBACK

So, that's when I realized something was genuinely wrong with him. It definitely wasn't like Paul to turn down free food or head off to bed just to catch up on some zzzz's. Nope, something wasn't right and I meant to get to the bottom of it and help him ... whether our grumpy, independant Beta liked it or not !