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Being Her

A series of one-shots in Claire's perspective throughout the series For Her.

Um, will not go in any order. they come as i get bored enough to write them. PSSSTTT if you want a new story, go review with her!

25. Beautiful Night

Rating 0/5   Word Count 646   Review this Chapter

Quil and I sat together on First Beach. It was remarkably easy—painless—to sit here, his arms around me. Comforting, even. I never would have thought myself capable of this, but I found I could enjoy the contrast between his warm arms and the cool breeze.

Maybe it was true, what Emily had told me about imprinting—Quil would have been too cautious to say something like this.

“For them, their imprint is their soulmate. For us, our wolves are the one person we can trust completely.”

It seemed natural, oddly so, to sit like this. His hands were huge, but they fit perfectly right over my waist.

I looked up at the moon. It was beautiful, gleaming in the almost-black sky like some unknown jewel, shimmering like sunlight on sand.

And I gathered my courage. I had made a decision.

I was sixteen years old. It was time to tell Quil. After all he’d done for me, it was the least I could do.

I had to get it off my chest. I couldn’t let this secret poison me anymore. Oh, I would never forget. I would never get over what had happened.

But I knew, I knew, that it would be better once I shared it.


I heard my own voice as though it came from a great distance away. Quil’s almost boomed in my ears after it.

“What is it?”

“I… I think I’m ready to tell you… if you want to hear it.” I added the qualification in, because I wanted a way out. This was going to hurt. I didn’t think about that painful time, not at all, not ever. There were dragons there, monsters in my mind that could escape if I prodded them. Talking about it would be even more dangerous.

“Of course. I want to hear it. Do you want to go inside?”

I liked it in this spot, with his arms around me. His immense size dwarfed me so completely. It made me feel tiny- not like a child, that would be terrifying. Like he could protect me from any danger without even the slightest bit of trouble, or even really thinking about it. “No… it’s really comfortable out here. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He waited, and I tried—and failed—to find the words. “I don’t know how to start,” I admitted.

“What’s the first thing you remember?” he prompted.

I closed my eyes and searched for the very first memory. It was a surprisingly gentle one, and yet worse than all the pain and horror. I remembered my loneliness. The agony of knowing I might never see him again. “I remember… being little. And you saying good-bye… and that you loved me.”

I looked up cautiously at Quil’s face. Something in between agony and rapture was there. I took a deep breath- in through my nose, out through my mouth- and continued.

“And after that… probably I was about five, maybe four. I was doing my homework and he came in the room and just… hit me. For no reason at all. Scared me. I started crying and… he hit me again, harder. And again and eventually I got the hint and shut up. He’d do it every day, after that.” It wasn’t as hard as I’d expected. I was able to say the words, almost in a normal voice. There was a disconnect with it, and that was the only reason I could tell this story at all. Here, in Quil’s burning arms, strong around me, sitting on the beach with a beautiful moon smiling on us, was a world so different from the one of my nightmares I could pretend it was nothing more than a story, nothing real at all.