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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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29. Chapter 29

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“Thank you,” I whisper. “Oh, God, Emily, thank you so much. I don’t deserve this but… but… thank you. And you have my word that nothing like… like this,” I gently indicate the marks on her face, “will ever happen again.”

She reaches to touch me, taking my hand. Then she yanks hers away. I wince. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Thank you.”

She rolls one eye. “No. Like, do you have a fever?”

“Werewolf thing,” I explain with a shrug.

“Are you the only one? Wolf, I mean. Didn’t… I mean, I’m not Quileute, so I don’t know them well, but don’t the stories say there’s a pack? Who else…”

“I’m the first. The only one,” I explain softly, trying to keep the despair out of my tone. It doesn’t feel like the burden one person should carry alone, but I have to do it. There isn’t another option, and it isn’t like I would wish this horrendous forced monstrosity on anyone else. I know the boys in town, the light-hearted children who carry the same blood as me, and I don’t want to see their childhood end so abruptly. They should grow up, not blow up- explode into a gigantic wolf that tears at everything in its wake.

Emily places her hand back on mine, softly. “Oh, Sam, I am so sor- I mean, that is… I understand, now, why… it’s too much. Now I know why you are so alone, so afraid.”

“Afraid?” What more do I have to fear? I’ve lived this long, I’ve seen myself become nothing more than a monster, I’ve watched as I destroyed the center of the universe with a single vicious blow. I’ve taken every blow thrown at me. I no longer care much for my own life. I’ve come to thoroughly deserve death, and that ultimate sacrifice is newly meaningless.

“You send it off like crazy. You’re so… you, no offense, are probably the most emotional man I’ve ever met. I can tell, just looking at your face, how miserable you are now. You really meant it, didn’t you? When you said you would die? You sounded almost like you… wanted to.”

“If it meant I could get away from this, could escape what I did to you…”

“What about Leah?” she hisses, abruptly angry again.


“You think this is all that matters? It’s just a face. Everyone has one. I’m going to live and still be able to walk and eat and all. But Leah’s never going to be right again. Maybe you should worry about that. Maybe that’s where your sorry belongs.”

“You want me to apologize to her? I will.”

“No. I want you to choose. Take a good look at her pain, take a good look at me in this ridiculous destroyed body I’m stuck in, and then tell me what you want. Who’s feet are you going to throw yourself at? I think either of us will forgive you. What do you want?”

I draw in a deep breath and say, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve made my choice. I didn’t get a choice.”

“Yeah? Well, what are you going to do?”

I kneel at her side, holding her hands, and whisper, “Emily. Do you really have to ask?”