Anastasia

I feel like I could run a marathon. The fever, the aches and the urges of my heat are all retreating into the background. It's like a massive weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I really should have broken the bond a long time ago.

At the same time, a new sensation is settling in me. I feel so happy and comfortable with Jacob that my injuries might as well not exist. Like that fight with Medeia happened years ago, and not simply an hour.

Jacob definitely noticed the tension in that moment in the shallow waves. I've rolled away from him, and am now sitting in the sand, completely soaked. I need to do something to stop this from getting awkward.

"The sky is nice," I say, not finding anything else to comment on. It's true, at least, the bright blue dome above us is as close to perfect as it can get.

"Right," Jacob answers. He comes to sit next to me, just far enough so that we don't accidentally touch each other.

"I'm glad you're talking to me again." I don't know why I'm saying that, but it comes out before I can stop it. "Sorry, I don't mean to be weird about it."

"It's fine," Jacob says hesitantly. It doesn't look like he really wants to discuss this, but I push forward. I feel like we're in a good place, and now is as good a time as any to talk everything out.

"No, look, I'm serious." I pull my legs toward my and rest my chin on my knees. "I don't know if it's because we kissed or why you've been like this… If it's… I mean, I don't think Gisele would have been mad at you or anything."

Immediately, I sense Jacob's body tense beside me. "I don't want to go into that, Ana."

"Sure, okay, I get it," I pause and let the breeze flow over me for a while. The uncertainty eats at me, however.

I want Jacob to say that he forgives me, but that's not all I want to know. There's a memory still plaguing me, one I've never been willing to hash out with him. It might not be the right time to do it now, but there never will be one.

"Do you still think that…" I sigh and stretch my legs out again, suddenly feeling very hesitant.

"What?" Jacob says as he looks at me curiously. It is as if his eyes are burning a hole into my soul. I've never told him how much this bothered me.

Should I dive into the deep end, no matter what happens? What if it upsets him? Questions ramble themselves through my mind, but I decide to go through with it.

"That you could never love me?" I say it quickly, as if it will burn me if it stays in my mouth too long.

Jacob tenses up immediately next to me. I can feel it in the way the sand shifts, and see the muscles tighten in his arms and jaw. For several torturous seconds, he doesn't answer me.

"Why would you bring something like that up now?" He finally looks back at me, with such fury in his eyes that it makes me shrink back. "Seriously, Ana, do you want to ruin whatever little bit of friendship we have left?"

The accusation hits me at my very core. Suddenly, my guilt morphs itself into anger, a self-defense mechanism that I've built over the years.

"Me?" I scramble onto my knees so that I can get up. "You're the one who's been blaming me for shit that has never been my fault! You keep making me feel terrible with your stupid silent treatment and then swoop in so you can be the hero!"

Jacob is on his feet almost faster than I can blink. "I didn't force you to get into a fight with Medeia. Besides, if you weren't there, Gisele would still be alive!"

"Don't be an idiot!" I'm shrieking now, trying to put as much space between us as I can. "Gisele fell because she was weak. Sooner or later, she'd have died, with or without my help!"

I know that I've taken it too far, but the fear in my heart will not let me back down.

"Really? That's your opinion?" Jacob's face is contorted with the sting of my words. "I can't believe I thought I might be able to trust you again. Clearly, you're just a broken little girl, like Medeia keeps saying."

The swing of his retort is violent and quick. I feel tears threatening to burst from me, but I force them down my throat. "You fucking stupid, spoiled Alpha! You have no idea what it's like to be me! I thought you were at least trying to understand, but I guess I was just fooling myself."

"Huh," Jacob shakes his head with gritted teeth. "Let me answer your question, then. Yeah, I still feel that I could never love you."

I am frozen, but I find the strength in my legs through sheer fury. I storm away, back towards the road, unwilling to allow Jacob to see me break down any further. He doesn't follow. I hear his feet sinking into the sand as he walks off in the opposite direction.

The beautiful sky, the soft earth beneath me, the refreshing ocean, all of it turns into something ugly and nauseating. I start noticing that my wet dress is clinging uncomfortably to me, and I'm starting to get a rash.

Even the injuries that I suffered at Medeia's hands are now making their presence known again. I use all of it as fuel for the anger and the hatred that bubbles through my veins. I feel like an idiot for even trying to be vulnerable around Jacob.

I'd thought that he was different from the rest, but maybe that was just my own delusions. Echoes of the past intermingle with Jacob's most recent words.

"I could never love you." Perhaps now that he's said it twice, it would finally sink in to my stupid mind. Why would I ever think he could have a rational conversation about that?

The road is hot under my feet, and there's sand everywhere. My discomfort motivates me to walk faster. There is only one thing I can think of that will bring me the slightest bit of relief now.

I thought that things were going well. That Jacob and I were actually friends again, and maybe we could be something more. Clearly there's something wrong with me that I would ever think I could be truly honest.

It was better when he was avoiding me. Maybe we should keep that up.

For some reason, I walk all the way back to Jacob's house, fueled only by pain and fury. I don't continue down the road towards my own place. It's become automatic, that this is where I live.

"I'll find something," I whisper to myself as I rush towards the kitchen and begin to rummage through the cupboards.

In one of them, I find one of the sharp blades that Jacob used to cut meat. I test it with the tip of my left forefinger, and nearly instantly a small drop of blood forms where I've cut. Smiling, I decide that I'm satisfied with my choice.

"Perfect," I turn, not wanting to do this right there. My walk into the hallway and up the stairs happens in a sort of trance. I am focused on my goal, knowing that it will offer the release that I crave.

My bedroom has a carpet, and I decide to do it on the bathroom floor instead. It's far easier to clean up.

I sit down on the cold tiles, placing the knife beside me on the ground. Bandages rip as I tear furiously at them, wanting my skin to be entirely naked. I notice that some of the wounds have already started healing.

I want to open them up again, to feel the pain that has become my freedom. The knife settles happily in my hand, and I drag it across one of the healing wounds on my arm. It cuts deep instantly, blood freely flowing from it.

I smile at the burning sensation that I feel, before I start again from another spot. This time, my thigh, the thrill that I might hit an artery. I release everything that I feel along with the blood, soon dripping on the floor beneath me.

It is not a perfect freedom, but the pain allows me to live through the horrors in my mind. I carve out a word on my left arm, the letters blurring as the knife travels over my skin and smudges the crimson liquid together. Again and again, I go over them, until I am certain that I might hit the bone.

I start the word in another place and another, as if the repetition will rid my soul of it entirely.

Never.