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Jacob's world is turned inside out by his first transformation. Everything is going wrong, at least in his mind. Billy must hate him, Bella must fear him, he must be a horrible monster... How does he cope with the pain? DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I own nothing.

I know I should be updating one of my WIPs, but I'm still working on a chapter for WCHB, and I thought of this, so I figured I'd throw you guys a bone. I hope this'll hold you until I get another chapter for one of the others up. This is my first attempt at writing a whole peice in second person. Hope it turned out ok!

1. Chapter 1

Rating 5/5   Word Count 2196   Review this Chapter

"Jacob, come out of there, please," Sam's voice calls from the other side of the door, sounding worried.

You don't move, but cover your ears with your hands. You don't want to hear his voice, even now that you know he isn't the one to blame. You just want to go back to the way things were before -- perfect.

"Jake, let's just talk. You don't have to change or anything -- I just want to talk to you." Sam entreats you, but you just pick up another engine rod, yanking the screw out with unnecessary force. The rod bends under your newfound strength, reminding you once again of the monster you have become.

Eventually, Sam's voice goes away, and you are left alone with your thoughts.

You think back to earlier that week, when everything had been going well for you. Bella had been visiting almost everyday, filling you with an almost euphoric bliss. You remember how she allowed you to touch her skin... how soft it had been under your callused hand.

You think about how she was when you first saw her after they left. Pain-filled eyes, deep shadows underscoring the suffering there. Her usually pale skin looking sallow, hanging from her bones like it would fall off if she moved too fast. But worst had been the way she talked, the way she clutched at her chest when his name was even mentioned. Her soul had been broken, her heart shattered.

But you had been there for her, and slowly, she was healing. But now, now, you can't see her anymore. You have no choice but to do the same thing, abandon her. You gain a new understanding for him, realizing that maybe there had been reasons beyond anyone's understanding that the vampire had done what he had.

You push that thought away, not wanting to feel any kinship at all with that monster. You are not like him. You save people from his kind.

A small, unwanted thought creeps into your head. You are a monster, it whispers. You're even worse than him.

You throw the nearly forgotten engine rod across the room, taking strange satisfaction from the noise as it hits the garage window, shattering it.

You sit, staring at the broken glass. It reminds you of yourself, in a way. Broken. Shattered beyond repair. Completely different. Just like you.

"Jacob?" Sam's voice is back. He's very persistent.

You ignore him again, willing him to go away. Of course, he doesn't. He finally just opens the door, noticing that it isn't locked.

You turn away from him, not wanting him to see your shame. Your tears.

Tears? You hadn't noticed them at first, falling freely from your eyes like a waterfall. You put a hand to your face, touching them in surprise. Why are you crying? You're angry, not sad. Not frightened.

You know you are lying to yourself. You mourn for what could have been -- Bella and you, together. You're frightened of the future; you remember that horrific change perfectly. The bone wrenching pain, every nerve ending on fire, the twisting, crunching noises as you bones bow and bend, turning into the monster within yourself that you have grown to fear. You don't want to go through that again, but you know you will. You will get angry, and it will happen. You fear that more than anything.

Sam's arm snakes around you shoulder reassuringly. "Jacob, I know this is hard. Believe me, I know better than anyone what you're going through."

You yank away, speaking for the first time since that agonizing transformation. "Really?" You bite out, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "You know what I'm feeling? You ever almost kill your own father for worrying about you?"

Your memories force you back to that moment against your will, though every fiber of your being cries out against it. Billy, sitting at the kitchen table, looking up as you enter from the movie night with Bella. All he said was, "You alright? You look kinda funny," and you're a monster, lunging at him across the kitchen. If Sam hadn't entered just then... who knew what might have happened?

Sam was strangely subdued as he answered. "Actually, I attacked the woman I was in love with. And she was a lot worse off than Billy."

You look at the Pack leader in shock. You had been too busy freaking out over the transformation to listen to the Alpha's thoughts before, or at least, concentrate on them. It comes crashing back to you as he speaks, though, and you immediately feel guilty for your rash words.

Emily Young, Sam's girlfriend, laying in the blood stained grass. Horrendous gashes mar her face and arms, clearly the source of the blood. You-- no, Sam, backs away, horrified, terrified of himself. Her chest moves quickly, her breathing shallow. Blood loss pales her skin, and for just a moment, she reminds you -- Sam -- of one of them. He runs away, howling his pain to the world.

You look at Sam. "I know. I just... forgot."

"Must be nice. I can't seem to get it out of my head," he tells you, pain lacing his voice. He clearly regrets his transformations almost as much as you do. Almost.

"Look, Jacob, I know this is really crappy timing, but I have to tell you something, and you have to make a decision. See, it's Pack law, and if it isn't followed, well, let's just say things get ugly." Sam's tone is teasing, but you can tell he is deadly serious.

You smile ruefully. "Shoot. I can't see this getting any worse..."

"Your grandfather was Ephraim Black," he begins slowly.

You interrupt, not able to help yourself. "Great grandfather, actually."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Anyway, he was the last Alpha. My grandfather was only a second-in-command."

You sigh impatiently. "So what?"

Sam shifts uncomfortably. "Well, by law, that makes you the Pack Alpha. I've just been waiting for you to change, filling the position out of necessity. Now that you're one of us..."

A tremor runs down your spine, and you begin to shake almost uncontrollably. You don't understand why these simple words suddenly have the power to make you lose control of yourself, and that thought makes you even angrier.

"No!" You spit at him. "No! I don't even want this!" You gesture to your shaking body, and the claw marks covering the dirt floor of the garage, a symbol of your first transformation.

"It's just an option, Jake, calm down. Deep breaths," Sam tells him, his voice as soft and non threatening as he can make it. He doesn't want you to change anymore than you want to... the garage is a damn small space, and you turn into a damn big wolf.

"I don't want it." You finally say, managing to bring your anger back to a simmer rather than a boil. Controlling yourself is harder than you would have ever imagined. "Keep the title."

Sam nods once, then clasps your shoulder again as he stands to leave.

He nears the door, opens it, then turns to you again. "Hey Jake?"

You look up from tinkering with the Rabbit's engine.


"It'll get better. I promise." His voice practically rings with sincerity, but still you doubt. How could it possibly get better? Can you stop changing? Will you suddenly be able to erase your memories of the previous week? Or, better yet, will you wake up tomorrow and discover it was all only a dream? A terrifying nightmare that you never want to have again?

No. It's reality, and you know it. But, no need to be so cynical to your leader's face. "Sure, sure," you say patronizingly, then turn back to your work.

You hear Sam let out a gusty sigh, but you don't turn to see him leave. He was lying to you, trying to make you feel better. Thinks aren't going to magically get better, even though magic seemed to be the cause of everything going to Hell. How else did you explain a perfectly normal kid changing in to a giant wolf, capable of killing the most frightening creature in the world? It sure wasn't science!

It wasn't that being a werewolf was all terrible, you suppose. The speed is amazing. You have never felt more alive than when you were running on four legs through the forest. And the enhanced senses weren't terrible, either. But the total loss of control over your body, and the fact that your body isn't really you anymore -- you're a giant wolf, for Christ's sake! -- is the problem. You're used to being you all the time, and damn it, you're no hero!

All you want is Bella, really. How much was that to ask? She needs you. You're her sunshine, her light in the dark abyss of loneliness she's stuck in.

You don't even want to try and picture her face when you tell her you can't see her anymore.

But you picture it anyway. You watch as she crumples in on herself, back into the zombie Bella that had first brought the motorcycles down to you a few months ago. Her eyes are filled with even more pain this time... half of it's still for him, but this time, half of it's because of you, as well. You continue to torture yourself, picturing the tears that will fall from her eyes, identical to the ones that are coursing down your cheeks as you visualize the scenario. You push it further still, watching as she clutches at the invisible hole in her chest, the one you had been helping to heal. But now, you've made it bigger. You're killing her. It's your fault this time, not that bloodsucker who doesn't even deserve to have his name mentioned in your thoughts.

You feel yourself go numb. You simply stop feeling. Feeling hurts too much. Emotions simply make you weak, which you know you are. Why else would you be sobbing right now? You can't be like this when Bella finally comes to figure out why you've been avoiding her phone calls. You know she will. Bella's not the kind of person who takes being ignored lying down, even when she's half dead from grief and pain. And she's supposed to be able to trust you. She would never suspect that you would hurt her in the same way he had. But you will. You're exactly like him. A monster.

Your eyes fall back on the broken windowpane. A ray of sunlight hits it, making it gleam evilly. You were right, before. You are exactly like those blades of glass. Evil. Capable of causing extreme pain. Broken beyond repair. Different in a way that could make all that know you hate you in a way you can't even imagine.

Before you're quite sure of what you are doing, you're on your feet, walking towards that broken window pain. You want to feel alive again. You want to know that you aren't completely gone, that you aren't truly numb inside. Because you don't like the numbness. It only hides the pain. And eventually, it's going to wear off, and the hurt is going to be there, worse than ever.

A shard of glass is suddenly in your hands, and you hold it up to the light, watching as a myriad of colors shine every which way. You lift it high in your right hand, then slice your palm. The skin parts, and blood spills forth, creating rivers through the tiny lines on your hand. You watch as it spills to the ground, a waste of life's elixir.

Your hand stings, but the cut does more than ache. It breaks down the dam on your emotions, letting the fear, the anger, the pain, and the indecision spew forth. You fall to your knees, sobs wracking your whole body.

You never asked for this, but it is your fate. And as Shakespeare once wrote, “Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great. Some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” Well, you’ve had greatness thrust upon you, and you must do the best you can with the hand you’ve been dealt.

But that doesn’t make you ok. You still ache inside. You want a way out of all the pain. Most of all, you don’t want Bella to see you as a monster. But, for that to happen, you can’t ever see her again.

Life isn’t fair.

With that sobering thought, you let go, letting the barrage of emotions rattle the bars of the cage you keep your inner monster locked in. It bursts forth, and soon, you are incapable of human thought, and blessedly, of human emotion.