The Special Two

My breath was caught in my throat; the icy air seemed to be attracted to my body like a magnet to coins. In the back of my head I knew that I was crying. My sobs erupted from my chest like lightening from a storm cloud. To match my rigid breath, I felt my body shake from the power of the sobs. I knew exactly what was happening and it wasn't fair. This wasn't meant for us, not now, not when things were going so well.

Paul's arms trapped me in an embrace like glass walls cage tigers at an exhibit. I continued to shake despite his abnormal heat. I wasn't cold. My soul was breaking. I began to fight Paul's grasp, my nails dug into his warm flesh and I pushed at him as hard as I could. Screams escaped my throat as I thrashed in his arms. Objects nearby morphed into unrecognizable shapes and disappeared into the woods. I screamed, an action that had made my throat raw, and continued to fight against Paul. I felt like I was being tortured. Leah and Seth stood several feet back with sympathetic expressions that appeared sinister to my sad eyes.

"You have to let me see him," I sobbed and pushed my hands hard against his chest. Paul tightened his grip around me, my head hit his chest hard but I continued to fight.

"You can't see him. He's doing what he needs to do for the pack." Paul said firmly.

I sobbed and smacked him, my nails dug into any place that they could. "He can't leave me."

The three wolves stayed silent as I tried to get to my soul mate. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to throw up. The memory of the weeks I had spent away from him came at me like small gunshots. Most vividly was the trip to Florida, which seemed like a dull pain compared to the horror that I was in now. Jake's distance from La Push grew at a rapid pace and it made the pain excruciating. It felt like someone ripped half my heart out of my chest and expected me to survive on it.

"We were going to spend Christmas together." I said so softly that it wouldn't surprise me if the wolves could hear it.

So there I stood, trapped in the arms of a shape shifter, and piece-by-piece my life fell apart. I could feel the distance as he went, it torn at my body like a tiger's claws at it's meal. The snow fell slowly in large white puffs from the newly sunny sky as if to offer peace to my soul. The sun hit my face and I flinched away. I turned to Paul's chest and cried harder than the day my father died.

Jake was gone.

Two days later, I sat in my bedroom in a pair of oversized jeans and a sweatshirt Jake had given me. My eyes were red and puffy but they were dry from any tears. My skin had paled considerably and I had shifted my hair to a black. It had been the that way since moments after I stopped fighting Paul, and a few second after my eyes were what could be a called a murky gray. Overall my appearance had turned towards the dark side and it wouldn't change back. Not that I really cared, I could look like monkey and it wouldn't change anything.

Why had we never taken pictures? Why had we not been spending every moment together? Why the hell did he have to go out of all of them?

I took a shaky breath and walked over to the bathroom. I turned the faucet on cold and splashed the water on my face to wash away old make up ruined by tears. After I was done I pulled a cream sweater and a pair of dark wash skinny jeans from my closet and threw them on. My face was make-up free and I didn't bother to do anything with my hair.

I tried to make a list of the positives as I walked down the steps.

One, I'm perfectly healthy.
Two, I have friends that love me.

My hands automatically grabbed and apple.

Three, I'm going to a college perfect for me.

My teeth bit hard into the apple. The juice filled my mouth with a delightfully sour taste as I continued to ponder.

Four, he's coming back.

Five, he's still in love with me.

Six, nothing can change number five.

Seven, as far as I know it's just for a few days, maybe a week or two.

I got up and tossed the apple core in the trash and grabbed my keys. I gathered my bag that held my laptop, wallet, notebooks, pens and a few books I needed for my classes that day. The cold bit and scratched at my exposed body parts as soon as I left the heat of my house. La Push had returned to a rather rainy state more often associated with Forks. We could hardly hold snow in this town.

My ballet flats made small squishing noises against the wet concrete. The world was, in a way, drearier than I had seen it before. The trees were bare and slumped over their trunks, their brown colors contrasting with the gray sky that surrounded them. The grass was dead and a putrid shade of yellow, water erupted from the ground as soon as any amount of pressure was pressed on it. But the smell reminded me of when I was little, it reminded me of my dad.

Eight, it smells like rain.

My car sped down the winding roads and I sat silently in the car. I had been left with alone with my thoughts for the past few days. No one from the pack had tried to contact me. Sandra knew nothing of the situation and I didn't want her to. It's not like I had made any friends in high school and mythical relationship issues weren't exactly the topic of a friendly discussion. The fact that I had had little contact with anyone made my feelings of isolation and loneliness increase. I felt like I was just a shell of a person, living only because I had stuck to a routine my whole life. Without that iron structure my body would collapse and I don't think I could get up again.

I pulled into the crowded parking lot and gathered my things. The weather was colder here than in La Push. Instead of dreary and lifeless, the trees seemed content with their newly snowed coats and the ground made a surprising crunch as my feet padded across the sidewalk. My eyes attempted to absorb everything, but it was like showing a small mouse a mansion. I tried not to think about how Jake was supposed to be here, how he was going to take me to my first class so I wouldn't be nervous. The tears threatened and I blinked them away fiercely. He'll be back.

The door to my class was large and heavy; I shivered as I pulled it back to reveal a medium sized classroom with tables on raised levels and a chalkboard at the bottom. I pushed a stray piece of my black hair out of my face, and carefully tucked it behind my ear. There were a few other students, maybe ten or so, who had already sat down. My heart beat loudly in my chest as my dark gray eyes searched the room for the best probable seat. I spotted one on the left side of the room that was far enough away from the teacher so I could drift off but close enough so it didn't look like I was slacking.

I set my bag on the desk and watched other people talk to their friends. My eyes flitted around the room like a bird being let out of its cage for the first time. I was wide eyed at the casualty of the students and the variety as they continued to pile in. As the number grew I took out my laptop. I opened up the Internet so it looked like I was doing something instead of sitting like a loner.

I was reading a document on Aztec shape shifters; unfortunately it was the first thing that came to mind, when I felt someone put a hand on my shoulder. My heart dropped and I jumped in my seat. Naturally I placed a hand over my heart; the thing had been getting an awful amount of workouts lately. My eyes were drawn upward to the two people standing next to me with amused expressions. The expressions altered slightly when they actually looked at me.

"Can we sit here?" The girl pointed to the seats next to me. My gaze moved towards the two empty chairs and then back at the girl who's red hair contrasted her olive skin tone. I nodded and turned back to my computer.

I closed the browser and opened up a word document before turning the speech function on. The teacher sat at the front in a pair of worn jeans paired with a cherry red shirt and a black sweater. She looked as if to be in her mid thirties.

"Welcome class. I'm Mrs. Jurchen." She began and wrote her name up on the board.

Mrs. Jurchen wiped her hands on her jeans then clasped them together with enthusiasm appropriate for the season, "So I hear you want to be teachers."

I gathered my things after class had ended for the day. The light blue walls of the classroom were rays of sunshine compared to the icy world that I walked into. My mind had wondered to Jake again and again throughout the lesson. I'd feel twinges of pain in my heart sometimes; they ranged from just a pinch to holy-crap-what-the-hell-was-that. I made a mental note to ask someone about that later. I wrapped my arms around my torso as I walked to my car.

The ride back home was uneventful and silent like the drive before it. When I finally made it home I set my keys and bag on the counter top and looked around. Small smiles graced my features when my eyes landed on the couch where Jake and I had first talked, where he asked me to be his. I glanced around the rest of the house and memories came up from the darkest parts of my mind. The memories I had spent the last decade of my life trying to forget.

I remembered when I thought I could fly so I put pillows at the end of the staircase and jumped from the top. I remembered falling and fracturing my wrist. Dad had scooped me up in his arms and took me straight to Doctor...Carlisle. If only I had known then what had surrounded me. If only I had known that just two years later Dad would crop his hair and I would stop seeing him so often. If only I would have known that him and Sandra would fight throughout the night.

I didn't like to think of my dad that way. I wanted to remember the memories of him saving me from my flying accident, of Christmas, of staying up late at night telling me about old legends about wolves. I wanted to remember him as a superhero.

I found myself sitting on the couch with a pen and piece of paper; words made their way on the paper and soon drop of tears followed. It felt good to cry. It felt good to recognize the pain. If I had been this hard person in front of everyone else I wanted to be able to mushy mess around myself. I felt myself becoming who I was before I got here. I didn't want to be Her. But I had too.

I folded the letter up and ran down to the store and bought a white balloon that reflected both the best and the worst in my world. It was innocent and simple. It was lifeless and unreadable. I stopped and tied the string of the balloon around the note; I made sure it was firmly attached. Then, I let it go.

When I lay in bed that night, I thought about what I had in life.

Nine, if I'm alone no one can hurt me.

Dear Dad,

When I was five you told me that the dead are never truly gone, you can always talk to them. God I hope that's true because this is my attempt to get you to listen to me. Dad, I'm a mess. You always said that I would build this great life for myself. But Dad, I didn't. I stumbled into a life that was a beautiful disaster. Things went wrong so they could go so right. It wasn't perfect but it was everything to me Dad, and I feel like it's slipping through the cracks.

I fell in love. Your little girl. He's amazing Dad, he treats me right. We had a rough start but that comes with what we are. We're soul mates Dad. I know you understand why I'm so sure of this. We'd laugh and mess around, I could tell him anything and he made me feel safe. We're special Dad, the both of us. I felt indestructible. I'd never been so happy in my life.

But he left. He left to save me. How could something that's supposed to make me feel safer and loved make me feel so vulnerable and alone?

There's this vampire Alina, she's after me Dad. Last year I got into a car accident and almost drowned. It's the easiest way to kill me, apparently. She's been hunting me. But they finally found her. The pack finally found where she is. Alina got hurt and she can't move very far. They're going after her. Jake's gone Dad and he could die. I'm so scared that'll he won't come back. I can't loose him.

I can feel when he gets hurt. It tugs at my heart and I can't breath. He's out there putting himself on the line to save me. He's risking his life so I can have mine. Dad, I'm not worth it. I'd rather live every day in fear of loosing my life than knowing I caused his death.

If you get this, please watch out for him. Let God take me first. Trade my soul for his. Please.

I'm not worth saving.

With love,

Clara.