[b]Chapter Two: I'm a Hazard to Myself[/b]
The chode, Mike, staggers back, his eye welling up. I got in a pretty good hit.
"Aww, man, f**k you!"
The entire bar is now watching. The bouncer looks uneasy and sidles up, watching closely as Mike's face screws up and he aims a blow at [i]my[/i] face in turn.
Too bad that hurts him more than it hurts me.
The crunch is solid and tears leak out of his girly eyes. I laugh as he stumbles back, falling on a chair and knocking over a table.
"You're a douche," I grin.
Mike gives me the finger on his bad hand and cries even harder. "Man, get him out of here!" he yells at the bouncer.
The bouncer, a stereotypical biker-looking dude with a huge handlebar mustache, gives him a hard look before turning on me. "Get out of here, kid."
"[i]I'm not a kid,[/i]" I snarl. I aim a kick for his crotch and hit him pretty damn good. He crumples to the ground. The remaining customers look very scared and edge towards the back exit. The blond girl looks frightened, while the brunette looks more like she's loving every minute of this.
I growl in her direction. I'm here for a fight, and to scare the shit out of everyone. If I'm not doing so, then I'm not proving my point.
[i]Why am I doing this?[/i]
The question comes up again, from the back of my mind. I don't want to think about it any more than I've addressed it coming up here. I've come for a fight, and I've got one.
[i]So why am I still not satisfied[/i]?
F*ck this. I decide to leave as impulsively as I've come. I've left a small bit of destruction in this shitty bar, and I add to it as I storm out, rebellious and yet cool. I hit all the glasses hanging upside down, ignoring the pain in my hand, the blood that's been released.
It'll heal soon enough.
[i]Fresh air.[/i]
I explode out of my clothes in the same place I phased back to human. I don't care about my clothes flying around in bits and scraps. I'll walk around naked, for all I care. I have the body to show it.
As I run back to La Push, the thoughts I've locked up spill out. Everything that made me how I am right now- okay, maybe just the one thing.
[i]He's gone.[/i]
Is it not ironic that as these words run through my head, the breeze that ruffles my fur picks up? I swear.
It's been hard ever since he left us three months ago. Leah and Mom, always psychoanalyzing me, think I was in a funk before then, and then that pushed me over the edge. Maybe so, but I've been getting to be this way for a while now.
It's affecting me, and I'm acting stupid. I know it, but I like acting stupid. I'm a teenager, I want to mess around. I [i]liked[/i] starting that fight. And if Sam finds out, well, too bad. I've got a stronger bloodline than him. In fact, now that [i]he's[/i] gone, Quil, Leah and I are the strongest fighters. I don't care if Sam's the Alpha.
If he finds out, he finds out. I'll take him. I don't regret hitting on a hot chick, or throwing a couple punches. In fact, I kind of wish I had maybe gotten a little buzzed, though I've heard from Paul that being a werewolf makes it a bit harder.
[i]Was he ever this way?[/i]
Yes. Yes, he was. He was this way after she left him, and now I'm this way after he left me. He was my best friend. I idolized him. But now I've lost him and Dad, and I've lost myself.
Running. Running. Running.
Maybe if I lose my thought process to the rhythm of running, I won't have to go back to thinking.
I walk through the door of Emily and Sam's butt naked. Emily, Claire, and Leah are in the kitchen, unfortunately.
DAMN.
Just my freaking luck.
Emily's eyebrows shoot up as she looks away from Leah, who's clearly moaning about her problems.
Her face is grim as she says, unkindly, "Seth. Inappropriate in front of Claire. Why aren't you dressed?"
I mumble something incoherent. Sam's imprint frowns.
"Get changed. [i]Now.[/i]"
I follow Emily's instructions and head upstairs starkers. Sam happens to be coming down the steps. When he sees me, he raises his eyebrows.
Somehow, he [i]know[/i]. He [i]knows[/i].
"Seth," begins the Alpha, "What the hell did you do?"