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I'll Teach You How To Love (Me)

One of the werewolves imprints on a mysterious woman. He travels to the ends of the earth to find her, and then discovers he has an impossible task. He doesn't just have to convince her to love him. He has to convince her love exists at all.

Right- this is a multi-chapter fic. I own nothing. It's in second person, so you can really pick a werewolf besides Jake, Quil, Sam, and Jared. In my mind, it's Embry, and that may be established later. Each chapter has a song which inspired it. I will provide links to the songs. You need to listen to them to get the right mood. I own nothing. REVIEW.

9. Gravity

Rating 0/5   Word Count 704   Review this Chapter

“You owe me an explanation, now,” you prod gently.

She nods. “I guess I do. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not all that good at storytelling. But you want the whole sorry tale, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Every minute of it. I want to know everything about you,” you whisper with a fierce intensity. It’s exactly everything you want- to see her past, to know what she loves and hates, to understand her.

“It doesn’t exactly show me in the best light,” she cautions.

“Like that matters to me. Every facet of you just makes you even more wonderful… in my eyes at least.”

“All right.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “This is the story of how a nice girl fell from her normal life into a sordid world of crime. Are you ready to hear it, kid? Might spoil your innocence.”

You take her hand firmly, but not with enough pressure to hurt. “I’m ready.”


“No more stalling.”

“Once upon a time, in a dinky town somewhere about forty miles south of Raleigh, North Carolina, there was a family. Five beautiful children, Amanda, Ashley, Andy, Amber, and Jenny, lived in a big, sprawling family-owned house just on the good side of town. It was barely beyond where the trailer park turned into the town, but they made it work. Until one day, their loving mother was found dead. Drive-by shooting. Never caught the killer.

“That changed the father forever. His wife had been the gainfully-employed one, and so he was poor, and had to start renting the lower levels of the house. Everyone was crowded into two rooms. He was miserable all the time, moping around. The kids ran unsupervised around town.

“And then somebody introduced the man to a way to remove his problems- specifically, booze. He started drinkin’, heavy and hard. And then he started to take all the sorrow out on the kids. It was about a year of that when Jenny couldn’t take anymore. She borrowed a pocketknife from her boyfriend- kid named Willie Harris.”

You can’t restrain a growl at that.

“That night, when she came home from school, Amber was crying. She was the youngest, and the prettiest li’l girl you could imagine- had the whole stereotypical blonde hair blue eyed baby faced look going. It was bad enough he was laying into the bigger kids. They could take care of themselves. But Amber was only six years old.

“Jenny hadn’t planned to use the knife. It was back-up. She was going to threaten him with it. Tell him to stop. But when she saw that little girl- she couldn’t hold it in. She cut the asshole pretty bad. He had to go to the hospital, and he didn’t have any qualms about family loyalty, seeing as how he was drunk at the time. The police came the next day.

“When they tried to take Jenny, the others held ‘em off for a while. Andy jabbered and Amber told stories and Amanda sung and showed off her new toy piano… and Jenny slipped out a window. She run, hitch-hiked, pawned poor Willie’s knife for a train ticket and a li’l bitta cash. Wound up in the city of Seattle, as I’m sure you can see,” she says, waving her hand in front of herself like an actor bowing after a show.

“Well, without so much as a middle-school education, she didn’t have many career options. Poor Jenny was on the streets, starving. A man drove by in a shiny silver car. She ran after it, knocked on the windows, asked for a little money, a little food, anything…”

You know where this is going. You imagine this man clearly, his lecherous eyes taking her in, knowing how precious and beautiful she is, and conspiring to commit a crime vast in its unimaginable horror.

“He said of course… if she’d do one little thing for him. And I…” she breaks her third-person narrative at this emotional juncture. “I did. I was thirteen years old. I was starving to death. I didn’t have a choice… I’m sorry.”