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The Lonely Wolf

To phase the first time: disorienting. Horrible. Terrifying. Painful. To become a monster: sickening. Strange. Agonizing. Estranging. This we know from Jacob. Must it not have been so much worse to be Sam? He did it all... and he did it all alone. A story in the perspective of the first of our beloved werewolves, Sam Uley. From shortly before the time of his first phase to his marriage to Emily Young.

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19. Chapter 19

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I settle for the grocery store, in the end. It isn’t exactly the place where I belong. Far from it, as a matter of fact. But I think it’s as good as I’m going to get.

Well, I need to eat. I miss human food. It’s perfectly easy to hunt as a wolf. It isn’t like I’m incapable of feeding myself. That form is actually better at capturing the meat that seems to be the only thing that keeps me full nowadays. But I want the tastes and textures of my other body.

This body, the one I lived the first twenty years of my life in, the one I belong in. This is where I belong. I don’t know why it’s so hard to convince myself that I need to remain like this forever. Even when anger isn’t overtaking me, I feel like I want the ability to shift from form to form. It’s bizarre, really, because I hate the transformation, I hate it, and yet I find myself craving it.

I steal my own clothes off Leah’s clothesline. It’s ridiculous, that I don’t have any other option than to take my own property from my own home to sneak around town. It’s early in the evening, but Leah isn’t outside enjoying the lovely weather. I can hear the sounds of a chick flick playing in the background and some quiet sobs every so often. Finally, the television shuts off. I hear the door open- my hearing is very good. One of the few advantages to this.

Before the guilt can wash over me properly, I sneak away.

It’s a short enough walk to the Thriftway in Forks. Okay, so it’s eight miles, but that doesn’t seem so bad in comparison to my recent experiences. I occupy myself, sadly, with thoughts of Emily. I know I shouldn’t.

She isn’t mine to think about. She hates me for breaking Leah’s heart. She sees the monster in me and she’ll never forgive me for it. She’ll never see that I love her, no matter what I am… and I don’t deserve to love her. I’m not even worthy of that.

Yet I can’t help but adore her. I simply don’t have to consciously command it—whenever I close my eyes, I see her face. I can imagine what her face would feel like under my hands.

I realize I’ve never actually touched her. It doesn’t matter, though. I love her from afar just as much as I would were she mine.

Oh, impossible daydream! Too painful, and yet too perfect…

I sigh and continue my march, trying to stay away from my useless worthless love, which is consuming me, and yet gives me nothing in return.

I’m practically running by the time I get there.

I slow my pace to walk through the aisles. I’m in between the cereal and the milk when I see the back of a very familiar head.

“Leah?” I say, mostly out of habit. She whirls around.