Still writing from underneath that rock. I even called it Shame.

Happy New Year and ENJOY :)

I wanna thank you all for the support, It is wayyyy more than I have ever expected.

Dedicated to my 50th reviewer: Ishii Sen Ling

Leah's point of view

Demitri.

I still find it hard to breath as I lay on the cool grass, a few hours later, calming down from my inner crisis. The coldness of the muddy ground is a soft touch compared to my suddenly unbearable high fever. A frightening sense of alienation starts drowning me , my body and soul becomes two strangers. The wolf in me does not make anything easier. Being a werewolf imposes such a complex controversial issue when it comes to self-defining, I realize. wolves stays in packs while a human is perfectly capable to think on his own. What am I? Am I considered as a part of a whole or an individual?

I am not sure what I am. Does a straying wolf exist? did a shape shifter ever felt so alienated that he felt the need to distance himself from his family, his surroundings, his land? It is a paradoxal thought, since the werewolf genes were triggered by the dangers threatening our mother land when the Cullens decided to camp nearby.

A chemical alteration is preparing to shift my perception of the world surrounding me, with the intimate encounter with one of the deadliest creature on earth being an additive admixture fastening the process. My mind is twirling with a million though, my conception on the laws defining the interactions between people forever changed. It is like before and after Einstein. This vindictive pitiless soul that ordered the redefinition of the whole concept concerning the laws of physics. Question is: How do I redeem myself? How, when I just realized every thought that ever traveled my mind is doubted. What must be my starting point when everything has just crumbled to the ground within a simple moment?

You are fooling no one, Leah. My cruel conscious screams at me. Right. I am fooling no one.

Demitri.

Even Demitri is a doubtful thought. But at the moment, he is the less doubtful thought of them all. This uncertainty travels in all directions. I am not sure what he is experiencing, as I am clueless what is it I am experiencing toward him. Is it true? Where is he? Is he not supposed to explain what the hell is going on with him? Shouldn't he be denying it like I am desperately trying to do? I am not even aware of this feeling of dependency starting to spread in my bones, my cells, my synapses until now.

'' Stop tempting me, Lea.''

A frightening shudder run through my body understanding the double implication in his words. A moan escapes my lips realizing that these mere words coming out of this secretive soul are enough to make me blush like a preteen girl. A laughable contrast to his emphasis on this image of a sinner in me. A sinner, who apparently is unconsciously leading him to the apple tree.

"What is wrong with you?" Sam's voice breaks into my illusion, echoing loudly, a dramatic decrescendo aiming to stir my guilt and misery . My resolutions crumbles, mere obstacle in the Cyclops's way. In a miserable little corner, I find myself agreeing with Sam. What is wrong with me? Is this even possible to share a bond with not only another supernatural specie but with the deadliest kind of them all? A foolishly dangerous question: It does not seem like it. It does not feel like it. But it is close enough.

Ignorance is a bliss, they say. And damn it, they were right. I am standing midway between two armies. The eternal battle between knowledge and emotions, subjectivity and objectivity. I am struggling in my mind to separate the two as they collide with each others. The knowledge of his emotions should not seep into my mind, mingling with my raw feelings and help redefining every doubtful idea that crossed my mind. I have never been fair in my judgments. My judgments based on the amount of anger felt toward certain things, thus objectivity is not a strength of mine.

Demitri

Every thought seems to stray back to him. He is that powerful magnet that is smugly challenging me by . This knowledge I hold hostage of could be powerful enough to shape the destiny of many parties. I should have been grateful, I found a way to entrap this glimmer of hope that seem to flaunt around for a week now. But for some reason, it brings me no joy, or satisfaction. I don't need him or his secret. I can take care of myself.

I get up to go home. I miss home. it has been a while, and living in my little world of misery and worrisome, I feel distant from home. Alienated. I don't even see or hear from anyone anymore.

Are my feelings of isolation considered the second step to complete the bond that fatefully link me to Demitri? I would rather not. I groan in frustration. I am not even sure about the presence of a bond. It is not just the glimmer in his eyes. it is something else that I am not greatly familiar with, I realize.

I seem desperate to bury those thoughts in the back of my mind. Demitri was getting under my skin, which is as dangerous as playing with fire now. But I willingly let the chilly breeze, travel between the microscopic void between the cotton fibers of my blouse and stab into my heat, freezing my ribcage in the process.

Winter is all in the blood this season.

I am in a maze. Trapped within gloomy dark concrete walls. I cannot seem able to phase, to destroy these endless parallels of ramparts. Rounding one corner, I find myself in a crowded public playground with children running everywhere, enjoying their blissful youth. I stare at them, not wanting to intrude in this perfect world, this sense of imprisonment forgotten for a few minutes until a misplaced dark shadow interferes.

In a blink of an eye, red is everywhere. For a second, I think myself delusional, or the sunlight in my eye is the reason I'm seeing burgundy everywhere. But then bodies and organs were starting to fall around me. Screams of agony escaping the lips of innocent children and suicidal parents. Mantras of suppliant prayers and pleadings decreases in intensity composing a dark decrescendo in a sinister Death-centered tragedy. As atrocious as the scene is, I cannot bring myself to look away.

The shadow takes the form of a man. I bite back a cry of fear as I recognize his identity.

I wake up in a halt, my heart drumming in my chest. I hug the cover closer to my chest as tears start running down my cheeks, my neck.

There's no escape.

I open my eyes slowly. I almost scream as my field of vision is entrapped by two golden hues. A hand comes pressing on my mouth, my voice stuck in my throat. "Not even a whisper, Leah"

There's no escape, indeed.

I really hope i am not boring you or wasting your time.

thoughts and suggestions are always welcome.

Have a nice day :)

Gia