I like to think that the turning point came for me about a month after Cocoa moved into my balcony. I've got to say, I was a little disappointed with how long it took. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be, what with it taking like years for some girls, but I thought that I could have done better. You know, figured out that I didn't have to suffer in silence forever. Because I didn't. Obviously.

Seriously. What is with these abusive boyfriends and brainwashing?

Anyway. It started on Saturday afternoon, during my driving lesson with Jake. I must say, I was coming along very nicely. Jacob agreed with me. I'd just succeeded in driving my Porsche all the way around the block without Jacob having to remind me to stay in the right lane or grab the steering wheel out of my hands and swerve to avoid turning my beloved vehicle into a pretzel. Which had been happening alarmingly often.

Anyway, I pulled back into Dowling's and Jacob and I held our breath while I parked and when I didn't crash or knock anything over, we both freaked out.

"Oh my God! I did it! Jake, I did it!" I squealed, clapping my hands together. I am ashamed to say that I had never looked more like a spastic cheerleading elementary schooler than I had at that moment. I mean, I guess I had good reason, but still. It was a fairly disgusting display of pep.

Jacob laughed, leaning away from me in order to preserve his eardrums. "That was awesome." He agreed.

I threw my arms around his neck. "I parked it!"

"And you didn't kill us!"

"Or the car!"

I was so exited; it took me a minute to register him. He was leaning all casually against his car, talking to one of the mechanics that Jacob got to boss around. He had to pick today, of all days, to see about the health of his van. The one day that I hugged Jacob. And of course he glanced away from the mechanic and at my car at just the right time, and saw me laughing all elated in Jacob's arms.

I pulled away as soon as I saw him looking, and suddenly learning to drive didn't seem all that great anymore.

"What is it?" Jacob asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in my expression. He looked over his shoulder. "Who is that?" He asked me.

"My boyfriend." I choked around the lump in my throat. I knew exactly what this would look like to him. Exactly what he would do as soon as he got me alone.

Jacob tilted his head to the side. "I'm not sure, but I think you're supposed to be happy when you see your significant other." He informed me.

"He is not my significant other!" I snapped. "He's not my significant anything!"

"Sorry! Geez." Jacob held his hands up in resignation. He looked quite amused by this turn of events. "What's his name?"

"Why do you want to know?" I hissed.

"I'm curious. My God." He sounded a bit miffed this time.

"Hart." I sighed, giving in.

Jacob reached over and honked the horn. "Hart!" He yelled.

Hart lifter his chin slightly and narrowed his eyes. But he walked over, unfortunately. "Hey, Cat." He said, his voice dangerously soft.

Jacob, of course, didn't notice.

"Hi." I said, my voice just as soft as he was. But from lack of air, not anger. I seemed to be having some trouble breathing.

Hart looked at Jacob. "You guys done here?" He asked smoothly. "I can take her home. My car's gotta stay here."

"Sure, sure," Jacob said easily, and got out. I did too, circling around the front and getting in the passenger's side. Hart got in the drivers seat and turned the key. The Porsche roared to life.

"I'll see you later, Jake." I mumbled, rolling the window down.

"Yeah," Jacob responded, still totally innocent of the fact that he'd just basically thrown me into the mouth of a lion's den. Like in the bible story. Maybe if I prayed hard enough, Hart wouldn't kill me.

Hart rolled out of the parking lot. He kept his eyes on the road, but his fists clenched the steering wheel, and every so often his jaw would tense, and I would see that vein pop out in his forehead, just like it had the first time he hit me.

I was so dead.

About an hour later, I stumbled in my front door with my head down, trying not to bring attention to myself. Nobody needed to see me now. I climbed slowly up the two flights of stairs into my bedroom, wincing with each step. When I got to my landing, I opened the door and slipped in as quickly as possible.

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and thought about how fat you were? Or how un-muscular? And how all these people had way better bodies than you? And then you spend like seven hours the next day doing sit-ups, or running, or bench pressing things, or whatever? And you know how the day after that, you're really, really sore?

Yeah. I felt about twenty times worse than that.

Everything hurt. And I mean everything. My arms felt like they were about to fall off. My legs felt like they already had. My neck was sore from turning my head so quickly and harshly whenever Hart slapped me. Which had happened quite a few times. My old bruises that had almost healed were now throbbing. But they didn't feel half as bad as the new ones. I could barely see, my eyes were so puffy from crying.

You want to know what I hate? Its feeling powerless. Like no matter what you do, nothing will ever change. Like you're the one that has to take all the crap and smile like its not killing you to do it. And I'd never felt more powerless in my entire life. Not when I'd found out that my best friends had lied to me. Not when I found out that we were moving across the country. Not even when My dad died.

I closed my eyes, letting my whole body sag against the door. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Only I couldn't. I couldn't pretend that I didn't hate my life. I couldn't pretend that I didn't hate my boyfriend. I couldn't pretend that I did hate the pack.

But what choice did I have?

I opened my eyes to find that I was seeing red. Now I was powerless and angry. Bad combination, it turns out. I seized a framed picture on the wall next to me and hurled it across my room. I watched as it hit my lamp and both tumbled to the floor, the glass breaking against the hardwood.

Huh. I liked it, for some reason. Seeing things break, not being the one breaking. Me being the tormenter, for once. I took a couple CD's off my bookshelf and hurled them across the room too, laughing as when they made dents in the wall. I spent the next ten or so minutes breaking anything I could get my hands on, just running off some steam. I must have looked deranged. You know, looking back, I probably was deranged. I mean, what do you call a girl who stays with her boyfriend whom she does not love despite the fact that he hits her? What do you call a girl who was running around her room, laughing as she destroyed it?

At least, I was laughing until I saw the picture. The first thing I'd thrown. The glass covering had completely shattered, and I could see the faces of me, Quil, Claire, and Embry grinning up at me. I squinted at it for a moment, trying to remember when it had been taken. It had been so long since I'd said a civil word to any of them….

"Wait. Could you drop me off at the Young's, instead of my place? I've got to baby-sit today." I asked Embry as he turned the corner leading into my neighborhood.

"Sure." Embry responded.

We pulled up to their house. The Young's car was no longer in the driveway. Instead, it had been replaced with Quil's car, which was in similar shape as Embry's.

"Quil's here." Embry remarked.

"Really. I hadn't noticed." I said, my voice dripping the sarcasm that Embry had very quickly gotten used to. "You wanna come in? It looks like the Mrs. Young didn't want to be late for Blaire's appointment."

"Yeah." Embry smiled.

As soon as we reached the front porch, the door flew open and Claire came rocketing out. "Kitteeee!" She squealed, throwing her arms around my waist and burrowing her face in my stomach.

Embry and I shook our heads in amazement. We'd both come to learn that there were two sides of Claire. The Quil's Claire, and Every-body-else's Claire. She was so much louder, so much more self assured when he was around. It was weird. Like Quil was some sort of battery that charged her.

"Hey, Guys." Quil appeared, leaning casually against the door frame. His eyes were, as usual, on Claire.

"Hey, Quil." I grinned up at him. "Wha-"

"Wait! Claire, don't touch that!" Embry reached over quickly and plucked his camera out of Claire's grubby hands. "Whether or not I graduate depends on this thing." He told her.

"How'd she even get a hold of it?" I asked him.

"The little bugger reached into my pocket when I wasn't paying attention and took it." Embry shook his head sadly. "She's diabolical. And she's got you two," He nodded at Quil and I, "under her spell."

"Claire would never do that." Quil said, scooping Claire up into his muscular arms. "Would you, Claire-bear?"

Claire smiled angelically at him "Please can we take a picture?" She asked him.

Quil threw a pleading glance at Embry. "Please can we take a picture?" He asked. Of course he was slave to whatever Claire wanted.

Embry rolled his eyes, seeming to think the same thing. "Sure, Clairedy-Cat," He said, adopting the nick name that I used for her. "What do you want to take a picture of?"

"All of us." She told him.

So I hopped on Embry's back and Quil leaned in, still holding Claire, so that Embry could get all of us in. "Smile, you guys." He said.

Staring at that picture drained away all my anger. Now there was only sad. I missed them all so much. I sank down, leaning against my bed, and allowed myself one sob. Which turned into two. Which turned into a full-blown crying jag. Or at least it probably would have. If it weren't for the lovely Cocoa, butting her head into business that wasn't hers, as per usual.

She came storming in, her black hair flying. "WHAT THE HECK?!" She screamed, getting right in my face. "WHAT IN THE WORLD IS SO BAD THAT YOU NEED TO CRY ABOUT IT?"

I'd forgotten that she lived on my balcony now. She had, apparently, seen the whole display. And the only part she opposed to was my crying. What, I ask you, kind of sense did that make? Crying was the only normal reaction I'd had to this whole stupid thing! I stopped crying real fast. Because the anger was back.

"How bout the only person in the world that is currently saying civil things to you and not getting paid for it beating you up and threatening your life?" I asked her icily. "Because that's what happened today."

"Ugh." Cocoa glared at the wall above my head. "I knew that butt hole was hitting you." She told me.

There are times when I kind of like Cocoa. When hanging out with somebody who is even more bad ass than I am is refreshing. This, however, was not one of those times. "If you don't leave in the next three seconds," I said, still using the cold tone. "I swear to God I'll go downstairs and tell my parents that a sixteen year old drop out is living on my balcony."

Cocoa sat down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, looking bored. "I told you before. I. Don't. Care."

"Ugh!" I growled. "God, I hate you!"

"Good." Cocoa sat up and looked at me with a very business like expression on her face. "Now. Tell me what happened."

"No!" I snorted. "Mind your own business."

"Oh, good God." Cocoa threw her hands up, exasperated. "Loose the theatrics and tell me what the heck happened! Or, you know, you don't have to. I don't really care. Just break up with him. Hit him back. Piece of cake."

I raised an eyebrow, peeved that she would think I'd just taken the torture in silence. "You think I haven't already tried that?" I asked her.

"Well, couldn't you, like, get a bodyguard or something?"

"Right." I said. "Who is going to want to baby-sit a thirteen year old girl? I asked her.

"Uh, Embry." Cocoa said, as if the answer were pathetically obvious. "Duh."

I was not in the mood to be reminded of one of the people I missed most. Cocoa may be annoying, but I had to hand it to her, She'd gotten what she wanted out of me. No more pity party. "Why is everybody always talking about Embry? I exploded. "What does Embry have to do with anything?"

"Uh, nothing." Cocoa's eyes widened. "Just forget it." She got up and left, just as quickly as she'd came. I thought for a minute about following her, but decided it wasn't worth it. I had too much cleaning up to do. I doubted my room could have been in worse shape if a tornado had gone through it.

I jerked awake, visions of the gray wolf once again on the brain. Only, it was too early. The wolf was still a puppy. I was still a toddler. We were still in Florida. I heard a beeping sound come from my bedside table, and my cell phone lit up. That must have been what woke me up. I sat up groggily and grabbed it, flipping it open.

According to the little screen, I now had so many missed calls that if I didn't check them and I got anymore they would all be deleted. I sighed, and navigated through until I got to my missed calls.

"Ah!" I screamed and dropped my phone.

There was no way. No way. You just don't get that many. I mean, I'd abandoned all of my friends, I expected a few…but that many? Impossible. People didn't even like me. But there it was, in that little technical-ish font they always use for cell phones. One-hundred and twenty-seven missed calls. I scrolled down slowly, gaping. One from Claire and Blaire. One from Sam and Emily. Six from Jacob. Nine from Quil. Fourteen from Keilly. Eleven from Seth. Eight from Drew. Four from Brady. Seven from Collin, all of which I expected were made on Leslie's behalf, as they had all happened since he'd fallen gaga for her. Twenty-one from Leslie herself, the sweatheart. And….

Sixty-five. Sixty-five. SIXTY-FIVE!!! I had sixty five calls from Embry. Thirty-nine of which he'd left messages for. I quickly switched to voice-mail. Maybe some one had died. That was the only explanation I could think of as to why he'd call me that much. Or maybe he had cancer, or something. But something big had to have happened. I mean, he had a life. Granted, I didn't know too much about it, but he was a twenty year old guy with an eight pack who was graduating college this year and about to become something that paid major cash who was currently living in a frat house with two other good looking guys. Not to mention the whole werewolf-protector-against-the-cold-ones-and-all-that-is-evil stuff. It wasn't like he had nothing in his life but me. So something had to have happened.

Yeah. Nothing happened, as I figured out twenty minutes later after listening to all of the messages that my friends had left me. Some of them were apologetic. Some of them were angry. Some of them were groveling, shamelessly begging for me to come back to the pack. A few of Quil's were suspicious, hurling question's at me about Hart. Was he college-bound? Was he jail bound? Had he already been? What was his home life situation? Was he, or was he not a devil worshipper? I swear to God, he sounded like my Dad. Or a jealous ex-boyfriend. Too bad he had just the right idea. Some were really weird, just sort of wistfully telling me what had happened that day, or last week. Those were the ones that hurt the most. Had I been that mean? To the point where they were past even acknowledging something was wrong, and were settling for a friendship with my phone? Embry had a little of everything, but a lot of them were the last kind.

I bit my lip, closing my phone and laying back down. I guess I deserved it. I was way due for a guilt trip. One thing I did not handle well. I preferred to just skip that part, and make things better right away once I realized I'd done something that was too far, even for me. But this time it was unavoidable. This was going to take more than a few well-worded apologies to fix.

First, I was going to have to dump Hart. How I was going to do that without him strangling me or suffocating me in my sleep or poisoning my drink I had no idea. I was just going to have to wing it. Something I did so often that most of the time it actually worked. Although I usually dealt with things like turning homework in late without the teacher noticing, not breaking up with my emotionally unstable boyfriend, but whatever. And I was going to have to do it soon. Tomorrow was a Saturday, but Hart and I were having dinner, so I'd seen him then. I'd do it then, when there were witnesses.

Then I was going to have to apologize. No, not apologize. Grovel. Beg. Plead, on bended knee. Bribe. Bribe with what, I didn't know, as I was broke and had been living off of Hart's gifts for the past three months. But I would find something. And even then, I wouldn't blame them if they hated me for the rest of eternity. Which was a very real possibility, as werewolves could live forever.

Oh, well. At least I could say that I'd tried.