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Chapter 8: Fragments

Raegan's Point of View

The room swam, a nauseating carousel of swirling colours even with my eyes closed. I pried them open anyway, the harsh morning light stabbing into my skull like shards of glass. Groggily, I registered the familiar pattern of my bedroom ceiling, a small consolation in the face of the churning in my stomach.

It didn't take long. The feeling escalated into a desperate plea from my gut, and I stumbled, nearly falling, towards the bathroom. The porcelain bowl was cold against my forehead as I wretched, a bitter bile rising and spilling. Again. And again. Empty, aching, and utterly miserable, I crawled across the hallway, back to my bed.

Facing the ceiling, I tried to focus on the peeling paint, anything to distract myself from the throbbing pain in my head. My thoughts, however, were a tangled mess, a replay of the day before, punctuated by the steady drum of my headache.

Paul. He was a blurry image of strong arms and quiet competence. He'd been there, a solid anchor in the swirling chaos. I'd been a complete disaster. Unconscious. He'd scooped me up, carried me to his truck, and driven me home, no questions asked, no judgment passed. I owed him, big time.

Then the image shifted, curdling the gratitude to something sour. Liam. His face, too close, eyes too intense. The brutal grip of his hands on my wrists, holding them captive as he leaned in, his breath hot and unwanted on my face. The memory made my stomach clench all over again, this time with a wave of revulsion.

And then, the root of it all, the catalyst for my disastrous night: Jacob. Just thinking his name sent a fresh wave of anger surging through me. He'd been so adamant, so controlling. "Stay away from my friends." He'd said, his voice laced with an authority I hadn't asked for, hadn't wanted. He didn't own me. He couldn't dictate who I spent my time with.

So, in a fit of teenage rebellion, fueled by hurt and a burgeoning sense of independence, I'd done the exact opposite. I'd gone to a club with the new crowd I'd met in LaPush hours earlier, determined to prove him wrong, to show him I could make my own choices, no matter who my friends were.

Only, my choices had led to this. To being puking-my-guts-out hungover. To being rescued by Paul. To being assaulted by Liam.

Fuck Jacob Black, and fuck him for thinking he could dictate who my friends were. If I wanted to be friends with Paul, Kim, Quil, Embry and the rest of them from the bonfire, I would. He wasn't my keeper. And fuck Liam, for thinking he had the right to touch me like that. Right now, the only person I wanted to see was Paul. He seemed the only one who'd treated me with any respect. I just hoped he didn't think I was completely insane.

I closed my eyes again, the ceiling once more disappearing into the darkness behind my eyelids. I felt less nauseous with my eyes closed. I remembered the promise I'd made to Paul last night , in the blur of my drunken state. I promised Paul that I'd call him. I decided, I'd call Paul. And I'd figure out, once and for all, what Jacob Black thought he was doing. I'd ask Paul why Jacob said that I couldn't be friends with him, or Kim, or the others in his friend group. I'd also thank him. Paul saved me.

I picked up my cell phone from the bedside table and found Paul's number. I called him and he picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" His voice was low, a hint of sleep still clinging to it.

"Paul? It's... it's me," I croaked, my voice raspy.

"Hey." he said, instantly alert.

"How are you feeling?" There was genuine concern in his tone.

"Like I was run over by a truck." I admitted, a weak smile playing on my lips.

"I... I wanted to thank you. For last night. You really saved me." I said, my voice raspy.

There was a brief pause, the silence thick with unspoken tension.

"No problem. Are you alright?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, just… hungover. And annoyed with myself for being so stupid." I confessed, the words tumbling out.

"Listen, Paul, I need to ask you something. Jacob… yesterday, he told me to stay away from you guys. From you, Kim, everyone. That's why I decided to go out. Why would he say that?" My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation.

I braced myself for whatever he was about to say, hoping it would finally unravel the mystery surrounding Jacob's strange behaviour and the unsettling atmosphere of LaPush.

The silence stretched on, longer this time, and I could hear the muffled sounds of activity in the background. Then, Paul spoke, his voice low and serious. "We need to talk, that's for sure, but not over the phone. Can I come over?"

…

The throbbing in my head was a relentless drummer, pounding out a rhythm of regret from the night before. Still hungover, I changed out of my clothes from the night before; my jeans and a bustier that I had slept in. I pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a gray hoodie, the soft fabric offering a small comfort against my misery. Then I walked downstairs slowly, each step a tiny protest against the spinning in my head.

I found my grandma, in the kitchen, a beacon of normalcy in the hungover haze. She was making scrambled eggs, the gentle sizzle a familiar and reassuring sound. A steaming pot of tea sat on the counter, its aroma a gentle invitation.

"Good morning, Grandma," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep and guilt.

She turned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good morning, sweetheart." She replied, her voice gentle and soft. I managed a weak smile in response.

"Have some eggs and tea. You're too skinny." She told me.

"Thanks, Grandma. Oh, and um… my friend Paul will be coming over soon."

My Grandma stirred the eggs, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

"That's nice sweetheart. It's Saturday, you should have a friend over."

I gratefully accepted the plate of scrambled eggs and a steaming mug of tea, the warmth seeping into my numbed senses. As I ate in silence, focusing on the simple act of nourishing myself, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Paul was coming to explain. To explain Jacob's coldness and callousness towards me.

The knock on the door came as a sort of jarring relief, a culmination of the anticipation. I walked over and let Paul in. He was tall, muscular and heavily built, with kind eyes and he always wore his signature mirk.

"Hi, Rose, I'm Paul." Paul said politely, offering my grandma a smile.

My grandma returned the greeting, her eyes assessing Paul with a quick, practiced glance.

"Hello, Paul. Nice to meet you, you're always welcome here." She then excused herself to the living room, leaving us alone.

As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned to Paul.

"Do you want to talk in my room?" I asked. He nodded, his expression serious.

My room was sparse since I'd recently just moved in. However, it had clothes strewn across the chair and the lingering scent of lavender perfume. We sat on the edge of my bed, the silence thick with unspoken tension. Paul was here to explain, to try and untangle the mess that Jacob had created.

Yesterday at school, Jacob had cornered me, his eyes burning with a strange intensity, ordering me to stay away from Paul, from Kim, from all my new friends in LaPush. He'd been cold, almost cruel, and I couldn't understand why.

Jacob, who I first met at the bonfire with his friend Bella had been acting strangely, perhaps even avoiding me since the bonfire. He seemed to be fighting some internal battle, his eyes filled with a conflict I didn't understand but I couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with me. And his warning, had everything to do with me.

Before I could start asking questions, questions that were piling up in my head, Paul spoke, breaking the silence.

"How are you feeling, Rae?" Paul asked me.

"Confused." I replied quickly, ready for him to answer my questions.

Paul chuckled.

"Not abou Jacob. How are you feeling after—everything that happened last night?"

"Oh." I paused.

I wasn't thinking about the events that had transpired last night but now I was. Liam. His face, too close, eyes too intense. The brutal grip of his hands on my wrists, holding them captive as he leaned in, his breath hot and unwanted on my face. The memory made my stomach clench with a wave of revulsion.

Me, calling Paul on my cellphone to come get me as I sank into the washroom stall unconscious. Paul, carrying me to his truck as I laid in his arms drunk, dizzy, intoxicated and inebriated, completely out of it. The memory made me feel a mixture of guilt, fear and gratitude.

"I'm better now. Thank you, Paul. Thank you for coming to get me last night. Thank you so much!" I said as I wrapped my arms around his torso, hugging him. We stayed there, silent for a moment, and then I released him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Paul asked me, concern in his voice. I shook my head.

"You should talk about it Rae." Paul said quietly, putting one of his huge hands on my thigh as we sat next to each other.

"It has to do with Jacob." I mumbled.

"He said something to me yesterday. It made me lash out, be reckless, decide to go clubbing with a couple students I met smoking near the school. They invited me." I started.

"But, the one guy, Liam… he got to hands in the club. I was too drunk to fight him off and he grabbed me and tried to kiss me even though I really didn't want him to." I told Paul.

"But I managed to push him off me and run to the washroom." I said. And then, we sat in silence for a minute. I looked to my left, at Paul, trying to gauge his reaction to my story but Paul had his eyes closed as he appeared to be shaking in his spot.

Paul's whole body was quivering. Had my story upset him that much? I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Paul? I'm sorry. Don't be upset. I'm fine now. You saved me." I told him.

"I'm going to kill Liam." Paul gritted through his teeth, but his trembling body seemed to lessen in shakes after I had my hand on his arm.

It was weird, I've never seen anyone get so mad they started trembling. But I shook the unusualness off.

"What'd Jacob say to you yesterday…that made you want to act out, meet new friends and recklessly sneak out to a club?" Paul asked from the edge of my bed, with me sitting beside him.

I took in a breath and then spoke.

"He told me I had to stay away from you, from Kim, and from everyone I'd met since moving here." I said quietly and then let out a breath.

"He told me to stay away from everyone I'd met at the bonfire and that it was for my own good." I told Paul, sadness and hurt embedded in my eyes.

"Look," Paul began, his voice hesitant.

"Jacob... he's got his reasons. It's... complicated." Paul continued.

"Complicated how?" I pressed.

"Why is he trying to isolate me?" I whined, annoyed.

" It's just..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"There's a lot you don't know about LaPush. A lot of secrets." Paul said.

"And he doesn't want me to know them?" I asked, annoyed.

"He thinks it's for your own good," Paul said, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.

Frustration simmered inside me.

"That's ridiculous! I'm not some fragile doll. I can handle the truth, whatever it is." I told him, anger starting to grow inside of me.

Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay, look. Here's the thing. You've spent time in LaPush, you've been around us... you've been to the bonfire…haven't you noticed anything... unusual?"

I thought about it. The way the guys from the rez moved, with a quiet confidence, an almost primal grace. The stories I'd overheard at the bonfire, whispers of legends, dismissed by most as silly superstitions.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I've noticed... things. But nothing I can put my finger on."

Paul leaned forward. "Okay," he said, his voice low and intense.

"Humor me. What would you guess is something that might be a secret hidden in LaPush?"

"I don't know Paul, I really don't know." I said, tears starting to fill my eyes as frustration began to cling to my thoughts.

"If I can't figure it out, what am I supposed to do? Just ignore everything? Just pretend Jacob didn't tell me to leave my new friends behind? Am I allowed to be friends with you or not? Kim too? Everyone I've met? Or am I supposed to just forget about everything Jacob said to me?" I felt the familiar sting of tears prickling behind my eyes.

"No," Paul said quickly.

"No, you deserve an explanation.. I just can't… reveal everything. Not yet." He paused, searching for the right words.

"Think about LaPush, okay? It's got a history, a real strong sense of community. A lot of… local secrets. Think about everything you learned at the bonfire, the stories that were told. I just need you to guess. Guess what significant secret might be hidden in a place like LaPush. A secret that would include Jacob, me, everyone at the bonfire." He looked at me expectantly.

"That's all I'm asking."

The throbbing in my head intensified. What could be so significant that it would cause Jacob to act so irrationally, and Paul to tiptoe around the truth? A legend? I wracked my brain, trying to conjure up possibilities. The weight of the unknown pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. Was I about to stumble into something that would change my life forever?

Suddenly Paul looked at my clock.

"Listen, I've got to go, Rae." Paul said as he stood up from the edge of my bed.

"But think on it please. Promise me?" Paul asked me, sincerity in his eyes.

"I promise. I'll try." I said, as I wiped away tears.

Paul looked around my room, taking inventory of my space for just a moment and then he looked at me.

"You looked like you just moved in." He stated.

"Yeah, captain obvious. It's because I did." I said giggling for the first time all morning. Paul had a habit of making me laugh in any situation, I'm glad even Paul saving last night didn't change that part between us.

"You should decorate it." Paul told me.

"We can go to Port Angeles or Seattle one day and make this place yours. You do live here now." He told me.

"Yeah I should." I told him, actually looking around for the first time in a while, thinking about how dull my walls looked, how bleak and depressing my room looked.

"That'd be fun. Go together?" I asked Paul.

"Of course, chica." Paul said with a small smile.

"See you later." He said as he left my room. Second layer I heard my front door open and close.

The idea of going shopping with Paul, of transforming my drab, teenager-standard room into something…mine, had filled me with a giddy excitement. But the excitment was dulled, because I was still thinking about the promise I'd just made to Paul. To think about the legends, the stories I heard at the bonfire, and how it connects to him, and Jacob.

Paul had left me with more unanswered questions than I started the day with. I was so confused. Paul had left me with more questions than he'd answered. Jacob's desperate plea to stay away from everyone, and Paul's counter-offer of "help," which only led to more confusion... it felt like being caught in a tug-of-war between two forces I didn't understand.

Why had Jacob been so adamant about me staying away? What did he know that I didn't? And why, oh why, did Paul have to be so infuriatingly vague?

I replayed the bonfire in my mind. I thought about the stories, the legends that had been told. Stories of men shifting into wolves. Stories of the third wife. Stories of the cold ones who drank blood.

Vampires, werewolves. What would connect them to Jacob, Paul and the rest of the group, that tight-knit circle of silent, watchful young men? I felt like I was getting a headache, a throbbing ache that intensified with each unanswered question. I paced my small bedroom, the floorboards groaning under the weight of my anxiety.

Suddenly, a flash of memory. During the bonfire, when Old Quil had been recounting the tale of the wolf packs, I'd caught a glimpse of something strange in Paul's eyes. Something wild, something… primal. He'd shifted uncomfortably after I'd caught his eye. And his strength. I'd seen him lift a log that would've taken three grown men to move.

Werewolves. Could it be possible? The thought was ludicrous, straight out of a horror movie. But the intensity in Paul's had been unsettling.

Then there were the stories of the "cold ones." Vampires. The idea seemed even more absurd, more fantastical than werewolves. But the stories were part of their history, woven into the fabric of the Quileute legends. And the legends were always rooted somewhere in the truth.

Maybe Jacob was trying to protect me from… them. From whatever these legends represented in their reality. But if so, why? What made me so special? I was just a girl he'd just met. Why would he be trying to protect me from legends that if were real… why me? Why would he try to protect a girl he'd just met? What was so special about me?

I grabbed my jacket. I couldn't stay here, trapped in my swirling thoughts. I needed answers, even if they were answers I didn't want to hear. I needed to see Paul, to confront him, to demand the truth. But, I realized, I didn't know where he lived. But, I knew where Kim lived. I'd ask her.

I stepped outside, into the pouring rain, saying a goodbye to my grandma as I pulled my hood over my head and walked into the rain.

…

The air in LaPush hung thick and heavy, perpetually seasoned with the tang of salt and the earthy aroma of wet pine. I was getting used to the rain, this little corner of the world where the Pacific crashed against jagged rocks and the Olympic Peninsula stood guard like a silent, moss-draped giant. But today, even the familiar comforts couldn't soothe the churning anxiety in my gut.

Each step I took towards Kim's house was a struggle against the sucking mud, the rain a relentless, icy lash against my face. The need to see Paul, to understand what was happening, propelled me forward.

Kim's house was small, a weathered structure huddled amidst a screen of evergreen trees. I knocked, the sound muffled by the downpour. The door creaked open, and Kim's face appeared, her usually bright eyes clouded with a strange, worried expression. She waved me in, a gesture that should have been welcoming, but something about it felt hesitant, almost pitying.

I just stood there, letting the rain plaster my hair to my face. The warmth radiating from her doorway was a tempting siren song, but I couldn't bring myself to step inside.

"Hey," I managed, the word raspy and weak.

Kim's gaze darted around, checking the empty, rain-swept yard behind me.

"Hey yourself. You're getting soaked."

"I need to talk to Paul," I said, skipping the pleasantries. My voice trembled despite my efforts to control it.

"Do you know where he is? Or where his house is?" I asked.

Her expression tightened, and she looked away for a fleeting moment. The look she gave me was unsettling, like she was privy to a devastating secret and bound by some unspoken oath not to reveal it. A wave of dread washed over me, colder than the rain.

"I… haven't seen him all day," she said, her voice carefully neutral.

Too neutral. It was a lie, or at least a half-truth. Kim had never been a good liar.

"He might be at Sam's house." She pointed vaguely in a direction down the road.

"Sam's, huh?" I repeated, more to myself than to her.

"Thanks, Kim." I said, turning back towards the mud-slicked path. The word "bye" felt heavy on my tongue, laden with unspoken anxieties.

I started walking towards Sam's. With each step, the weight in my chest grew heavier, the rain feeling less like water and more like shards of ice. I kept replaying Kim's look in my mind. A look that said everything and nothing all at once. Something wasn't right. Everyone seemed to know more about me than I knew about myself. It was daunting.

...

Jacob's Point of View

The chipped paint of my ceiling swam in my vision. I was trapped in the small confines of my single bed, a cage I'd built on guilt and regret. The air in my room hung heavy, thick with the unspoken accusations of my pack. Paul's anger still echoed in my ears, his claws running through my fur, leaving a throbbing scar that was currently healed, a reminder of my failure.

"You don't care about her! You don't even want her!" he'd roared. Embry and Quil had been quieter, their disappointment a sharper, more insidious blade, but I still felt it.

"Raegan is your imprint, Jake. She deserves better." He'd yelled through the pack mind as he attacked me for trying to fight the imprint.

And what was with everyone calling her Rae? Rae? As if they knew her better than I knew her. And they did. They all knew her better than I knew her. I'd maybe said three sentences to her. All of which were angry, cold words that had probably made her cry.

Rae. They all called her Rae. A nickname, a term of endearment, a little piece of intimacy I didn't possess. To me, she was just Raegan. A name, a blank canvas on which my indifference had been cruelly painted. The guilt gnawed at me. They were right. All of them. I was a shit person. A selfish, pathetic shit person.

Raegan couldn't even reach out to me, hadn't sought me out when she needed help. She didn't even know how much I thought about her, how much she could lean on me if she needed to. Not that I knew what Raegan leaning on me meant. But knowing that she couldn't come to me when she needed help was another layer of my failure. My imprint, the one person I was destined to protect, didn't trust me enough to come to me.

Furthermore, she didn't even know me well enough to come to me.

It was supposed to be Bella. Bella, with her clumsy grace, her chocolate eyes, her scent that was still somehow imprinted on my soul. Bella had been my sun, my moon, my very reason for existing. I was supposed to be fighting for her, clawing my way through the tangled mess of vampire covens to reach her, to fight for her, to protect her. And I had been. I had sacrificed everything, even turning away from my own nature, for Bella.

But now… now Raegan was a growing presence. She was a whisper at first, a faint rustling in the winds of my thoughts. But the whisper was growing louder, the rustling more insistent. She was encroaching on Bella's space, pushing her to the periphery. Images of Raegan, fragments of memories from the bonfire, from school, from the Rez, flashed behind my eyelids.

The pull of the imprint was relentless, a tide dragging me further and further away from the shores of my Bella-obsessed past. Each day, Bella faded a little more, her memory losing its sharp edges, becoming a sepia-toned photograph compared to the vibrant, technicolor reality of Raegan that was blooming within me.

How could this be happening? I was supposed to be in love with Bella. I was supposed to be fighting for her, for Bella's happiness, for Bella's life. The guilt intensified, a crushing weight on my chest. I was betraying her. Betraying everything I thought I knew about myself, about love, about loyalty.

But the pull was too strong. I could feel it in my bones, a primal urge to be near Raegan, to protect her, to... to what? I didn't even know. I didn't know Raegan. I didn't deserve to know her.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the image of Bella back, trying to recapture the burning passion that had consumed me for so long. But Bella's face was hazy, indistinct, while Raegan's was sharp and clear, demanding my attention.

I was caught between two worlds, two loves, two destinies. One rooted in the past, in a love that was supposed to be eternal. The other beckoning me towards the future, towards a connection I couldn't understand, a connection I was desperately trying to deny.

But deny it as I might, the truth was undeniable. Raegan was a vine, slowly but surely entangling itself around my heart, and I was starting to realize that fighting it might be a battle I was destined to lose. And the gnawing guilt inside me wasn't just for betraying Bella, but for the crushing realization that I had almost lost Raegan before I even had a chance to find her.

I was supposed to be in love with Bella, supposed to be fighting for her. I was supposed to be her shield, her protector. But the pull of the imprint, a magnetic force I couldn't comprehend, was pulling me towards Raegan. It was a primal, undeniable force, a biological imperative that threatened to shatter everything I thought I knew.

Maybe… maybe I could just become friends with Raegan. It was a pathetic attempt to rationalize the chaos churning within me. Maybe I could ease the pull of the imprint by trying to be friends with Raegan. Be a friend to her, someone she could rely on, while also staying in love with Bella, and continuing to protect Bella.

The idea felt like a flimsy raft in a raging storm. But I clung to it, desperate for any semblance of control. I could be a friend. I could offer her support, a listening ear. It wouldn't be romantic, wouldn't be anything more than platonic. Just… friendship. A way to ease the ache, a way to be something to her without betraying Bella.

Maybe, just maybe, that could work. Ease the pull of the imprint. And maybe, just maybe, I could salvage the wreckage of my heart. The only way to find out was to try. To talk to Raegan. To get to know her, and see if this friendship could work.

First, I'd have to apologize. Raegan deserved one hell of an apology from me.

Word of The Day:

Fargments: to break apart into pieces.

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