A big thank you to kiwiflea for her review on last chapter. I really appreciate it.
This is kind of a filler chapter before some big stuff happens to hold everyone off and replace the last A/N with.

Do not refrain from leaving me constructive criticism!

I do not own Twilight.

It must have gotten really irritating, all the questions I was asking. I was still skeptical of the mythical creatures story, but my mind was starting to comprehend and accept it. By default, that also meant that I had asked questions about everything for the last two weeks. It was a thirst for knowledge that fueled me, but everyone else seemed completely done with my mindless questions.

"Wait, does imprinting mean I'm your sex slave or something?"

Jacob stared at me with an annoyed expression.

"Because I am not down for that," I added as an afterthought.

Ever since that night a few weeks ago, I had started seeing him different. The anger and aggression towards him had disappeared inside me, and no matter how hard I tried to channel it, it stayed below the surface of my subconscious. His face had somehow also become more alluring; his features were more angular and his eyes were a lovelier shade of brown than I could ever dream of. Something changed that night, whether from the imprint or my pent up feelings, I had no idea. Despite all of that, I was still not down for the sex slave concept.

"No," he answered, a sly look in his eyes. "But it would be nice if you were down with it."

"Fuck off," I heard my brother's deep voice mingle with my higher pitched one. I could see Sam looked defensive from his place in front of the television. He was clearly offended by the title of "sex slave" for his little sister, just about as much as I was. Some of the others were snickering, but their girlfriends were looking offended with an expression much like mine.

"Sorry, too far?"

"Maybe just a teeny bit."

I snorted when Jared threw something at Jacob and all the boys joined in on the fight, but I irritatedly realized I would have to help Emily clean the up mess they made. Sam, much like mister high-and-mighty, sat on the couch and watched the football game. I sighed and begrudgingly called, "Sam! Don't be a hard-ass, join in with them."

He looked at me with a sad expression and I let my eyes bore into him. I was still cross with him. Three years.

All those times I covered for him and got my ass in trouble, and he had lied to me for three years. I brought drugs home and acted high to let him sneak in through the kitchen window while mom screamed curses and pushed me away from her. There was one time when I even started a small fire in the kitchen, because of which my mother repeatedly hit me and told me I was stupid. He snuck in through the garage that night. It was all based on blind faith that I put into him; he was my brother and blood was most definitely thicker than water.

Sam was my father, my brother, my guardian, and my protector. He always had been with no hesitation if somebody hurt me that he would hurt them twice as hard. As soon as we parted ways, I was nothing, a mere vulnerable little girl with no protection who allied to stay alive.

I was forced to forgive Jacob against my will. The other boys I was still weary of, but no quite afraid of. They were like brothers more than friends; strange, sort of untrustworthy, friends. It was as if they were obligated to protect me and make me laugh, like Sam. Except Sam, he was a liar, unlike Jacob and the other boys, and I wasn't obliged to forgive him at all. It was maddening for him, I could see it in his eyes. Our eyes.

He knew now how I had felt all of those years. Guilty, fickle, untruthful.

I was lying to myself all in the same token. My brain said you're fine, but my heart said you most definitely are not.

There was no aggression in any part of my body harbored towards Jacob. I resented that, I loathed to make my decision about how I felt. That decision had been so brutally taken from me within a few seconds. I would probably never be able to make my decision about who or what I fell in love with because of all these stupid lies, this stupid town, this entrapping reservation. I would be stuck here with an iron shackle around my ankle; never truly being able to leave, but always wanting to just like my mother had been.

"Bianca, watch out!"

The warning was too late. A wet, sticky substance splattered against my left cheek, which had been the cheek facing the boys while I was lost in thought. I grinned and the boys howled with laughter. In their moment of weakness, I took the chance to splatter soup from my bowl all over them, coating their coppery skin with red and green flecks from the tomato soup. They looked foolish enough for me to howl with laughter, but I could not ignore the steadfast feeling of anger bubbling in the pits of my stomach. Not from them hitting me, but from all the things that had happened to me in the past year.

My grin slowly faded back into an unreadable face, the way I liked it. What happened to the girl who had once been called too energetic, too loud? The one I continued to be insecure about even though there was no trace of her in my body? I wanted her back, needed her back. I wanted to go back to the times where my dad called once every four months and congratulated me on getting honor roll or some other accomplishment and told me he loved me with sincerity in his voice and that girl got excited. She waited for his calls eagerly until they started coming every six months, then every year, and eventually stopped for good. Dad— Joshua was right. I hardly knew him, he wasn't my father. I never had a real father.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped the soup off my face. Another couple of droplets splattered on my face from across the room and I muttered, "I hate this."

"Who's the hard-ass now?" I heard a voice to my right; Sam.

"Still you," I muttered again, turning away when acid rose in my throat.

"You're muttering, I can hardly hear you. Bianca, are you okay? Besides the—" I cut him off with a flat hand in front of his face. He knew partly what was wrong, he just didn't want to admit that he was wrong in what he did. It was rare for Sam to say sorry, even in the most dire situations.

There was a problem I often had where my mouth did not agree with any other part of me. It was a medical condition, I was sure of it at this point. It always put me in so many situations it had to be terminal, really, and it definitely made me the least adroit person I knew.

"You know what's wrong. You lied," I whispered to him above the commotion. It was loud, but I wanted nobody to overhear us. "You put me at risk, hell you put Mom and I at risk. Frankly, I don't want to turn into her, either. Mom got trapped because of Dad, You, and I and she made it out, Sam."

I felt tears in my eyes and hissed angrily, but quietly. "But I don't think I will ever be able to."

He looked saddened at my expression. "Will you ever let this go?"

I looked into his eyes, brown on hazel. I saw sadness, desperation, and remorse swim through them; it was something I hardly saw when looking at my brother. I felt exasperation, because it wasn't as simple as making it up to me and saying the simple word sorry.

"I think I will, actually," I crossed my arms, rounding on him. "Eventually."

I heard Sam groan in annoyance to see food had been splattered across his back like red paint on a canvas. I, however, snorted into my hand to hide my laughter and looked away from him. Emily came and bumped my shoulder as Sam started to look pissed off, then stopped. He calmly grabbed some food from a plate, flung it at Colin's terrified face, and bellowed. He had finally joined in on the camaraderie, laughing like a maniac and throwing food.

I guess I am the hard-ass in this family, aren't I?

I realize this chapter has like twenty different thought processes going on within it.
I may edit it if that's what you guys want.

Review goal for this week is three more comments (get up to seventeen), and don't forget I'm doing two updates this week!

Toodles,
Anna