If you ever reach a point in your life where nothing is bad, then I pity you. For things to seem bad, there has to be some good in your life. If nothing's bad, then, it just feels empty, because there's no happiness either.
Believe me; I've been there.
When I finally arrived at Uncle Nick's, it was pretty late in the evening. I didn't need a key to get in; the bellman recognized me as one of my Uncle's family members, and-as he had been advised to- let me in. The apartment building itself if really upscale, so his place was the only one on the floor.
Looking around his apartment, I had realized how distant I had become from my Pack. Pictures, dozens of pictures; I was in only a few, and those were ones from Before. By Before, I mean ones of me as a child, playing with my brother. Or, more merciless, pictures of me and my Father. So, yeah, Before.
I was able to find Logan's room by scent and habit, quickly showered, and then changed into a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. About half an hour later, Nick and Logan had arrived home, probably from dinner. Saying I surprised them was, well, an understatement.
I finally convinced Uncle Nick not to call Jeremy to pick me up (O.K, Logan convinced him) , but he did call to say I was O.K. And, thankfully, that I would be staying with Uncle Nick.
I loved my Uncle, so much, but our relationship had withered over the last few years. I couldn't blame him. He just didn't know what to do with me, or whether he had to do anything at all. I still loved him, but it was bittersweet. Every comment he made reminded me of my past, and of my mother, and of my father. So many memories, all of them painful in their own way.
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As I lay next to Logan, with him stealing most of the covers might I add, I kept thinking of those men I had met. The werewolves. I probably should have told my Uncle, but I hadn't.
I should have told Logan, but I hadn't.
Why hadn't I?
Logan and I still talked about everything, our relationship was as close as ever. Closer, even, since he and I only had each other now. Sure, he had friends, girlfriends even, and he had his Pack….. His Pack. I noticed then that I had stopped calling them My Pack, and started referring them as if they were separate from me.
I was being offered an opportunity. I could see that. This 'Nikolas' was from the Russian Pack, or atleast he said so. I believed him. There aren't that many werewolves in the world, even less in the U.S, and I knew all of the mutts in the States. They had a Russian accent, and hadn't offered me any harm.
Don't think I was being naïve, or ignorant. I knew they might be lying. I knew from experience that accents could be faked, that lies can slip so easily off of your tongue. Still, I wanted to believe him. Believe that I had options.
Options other than wasting away, caged like the animal that I knew I could be. There is only so much pain someone can endure, until they just shut down. I could feel myself doing it. Friends that I had, family, memories, all of it was slipping away into nothingness.
I couldn't let that happen, not if I could stop it. The only way out I had previously seen was killing Jeremy- and that would be a slap in the face to my parents, and everyone I ever cared about. Still, I had thought about it.
I felt Logan shift in his sleep, rolling away from me. Away.
Now I had another option. I could leave.
For good.
I knew that meant leaving Uncle Nick- an idea that pained me. I knew that meant leaving Uncle 'Tonio, a notion that pained me no less.
The only question left, was could I leave Logan? I looked at his face, at the darkened profile to my right. Could I leave him? Did I dare?
Did I dare stay? I was ruining his life. I could see it, the fragility that escaped him, if only in sleep. He didn't have the strength to deal with the loss of our parents, while taking care of his junkie twin sister. How many times had I begged him for a shot? Of Anything? Too many. And how many times had he gotten me something? How many times did I watch as a single tear threatened to fall from his baby blues, as he handed it over? He didn't want to see me suffer through withdrawal, and that kind of decision isn't meant to be in the hands of a teenager. Not even a werewolf teenager.
So, that was it.
I could leave, even if it meant giving up everything that had ever belonged to me. Even if it meant giving up the only thing that ever truly did.
I could make that sacrifice, if I had to. If it meant saving him.
Maybe I would leave Stonehaven. Maybe I wouldn't.
I would call the number on the business card tomorrow, and let providence decide.
With that thought, I burrowed deeper into the quilt, and drifted off into the best sleep I had had in months.
