Okay guys, just a heads up there will be a short part in this chapter that could trigger something for anything dealing with depression or self harm. I will mark it with a trigger warning and if you want to get extra "feels" in this chapter I recommend listening to Lost Boy by Ruth B. Just a heads up, there's going to be drug use in this chapter. I know drugs don't solve problems, but because of Sutton's background I think it's necessary.

Also, since it's been so long since I posted here's a quick summary of past chapters to jog your memory. Sutton's boyfriend Zander treated her terribly, and one day he snapped and assaulted and abused her, sending her to the hospital. Sutton is left not only his physical pain but also lots of emotional pressure, strain, and confusion. When her cousin offers to have her move to La Push, she accepts his offer. Paul meets Sutton and imprints on her. They spend a little bit of time together before Paul tells Sam that he imprinted on Sutton. Reluctantly Sam, Sutton's cousin tells Paul what Zander did to Sutton. Enjoy!

Paul

I keep sprinting through the woods, fueled by adrenaline. The only sign of me moving or time passing in these empty woods is my surrounded changing from an sub-tropical environment full of lush greenery and mud to a more alpine stretch with lots of pine trees and dirt. I can't stop thinking about Sutton. And what… he did to her. How could he do that, watching her struggle and injuring her? I can't even understand how he could keep hitting, kicking, and punching her when she was pleading for him to stop; or when she was bleeding or losing consciousness. Humans are so fragile. They can break bones just by falling and then spending weeks recovering. It's not that I don't remember being human and how it felt, but now that I am a shape-shifter I know, in comparison at least that humans are easily broken. I get reminded of it every time a careless motorcyclist speeds around a sharp turn on our slick roads and end up killing himself and getting on the front page of La Push's newspaper. Or when one of the imprints breaks a bone or gets hurt and their guy coddles her.

All I can hope is that Sutton isn't in pain and can heal quickly. Plus, I know she must be hurt emotionally. I mean I can't begin to imagine dating someone for two years only to have them send you into a hospital. She must feel so betrayed and maybe even alone. Of course she has me, but she doesn't know that. Plus, I can't really tell her I imprinted on her right now. She would probably freak out and be afraid of me. I know I would. It seemed like she has really close with him and spent a lot of time together, to have that all taken away in that way is like a Band-Aid. Painful at first but better in the long run. I can't be selfish and keep running through the woods mindlessly, it's not like I am even the victim here. I have to go back and help her in any way I can, keeping up like this isn't going to help her or anyone else. I have to go back and help her sort this out.

But that's easier said then done. I am pretty sure I ran a long way. I started running in the morning and now it's gotten colder, not that it affects me; and it's pitch black outside. Meaning another all-nighter. Crap. I take a deep breath and turn around, stretching my hind legs before breaking into a sprint.

Sutton

I sigh and roll over to the other side of my bed, plugging my computer back in- drained from today's non-stop use. I am so bored. A lot of the people I meet last night like Colin, Brady, and Cassidy were on their last week of school. Sam and my parents had let me skip the last week of school and just start next year; because my old school was ahead of La Push's tiny 6-12 school so I would be caught up when my senior year started. And I am not ready for so many people to be around me yet. Plus the others that I meet like Paul, Kim, and Jared were off doing their own thing. Lastly Sam and Emily said they had to go to Seattle to buy baby things, after apologizing for leaving me alone of course.

So, it's just me all alone. Being alone doesn't help me at all. I have a itching to grab a pair of Marlboros and light them all up, take huge drags and exhale clouds of smoke. I also really want to take huge hits of weed and forget everything for a couple of hours. But over all of that I desperately want, and it's feels like I need Zander. I miss him so much. I miss being wrapped up in his arms while hanging out with his friends, making out in the back of his truck, and hooking up in his room above the garage. All of my rational and logical instincts are telling me to ditch him and kick him to the curb after telling him off for a loooong time. But every other part of me is aching for him. Regretting pressing charges and getting him locked up in jail. I grab a pillow from the other side of the bed and hug it against my chest. I squish the pillow tighter and debate. I really want to check my phone and read through my messages and see if there is any news about Z. After a lot of thinking I decide to compromise and log on to my Instagram for the first time since that day when he... I boot up my computer and quickly type in my username and password. My page loads and I skim over all of my familiar photos. Most of my posts were pictures of me a Zander together, usually with a lot of his friends.

The photos glide mpast my eyes, as I scroll down my page. The photos serve as a timeline for me and Zander's relationship. The oldest posts show pictures of me and Zander holding hands, kissing, and both of us smiling up at the camera; from when we were both happy and content. As I go further up the pictures start to change, Zander's arm seems wrapped around my shoulder a little to tight, from when he started getting super possessive. Zander forcing a smile while crossing his arms, when he started to yell and lash out at me regularly. Or me fiddling with my arms, and finally photos of both of us looking strained and ready to pop- when I started getting admittedly scared and nervous of him ms when he started pinching my arms, squeezing my arm too tight, and wanting to know where I was and what I was doing every second of the day. I slam the computer screen down and push it underneath the bed, not able to handle at anymore.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grab my sidekick (old phone) off the nightstand already regretting it. I scroll through my many messages. They are a couple from my neighbors, my second family asking about how Washington was. But as I go further down there are messages from Zander's friends. I skim over all of them and they all call me terrible things and threaten to send someone to Washington to find me and do terrible things to me, in revenge for getting Zander locked up. They say I can't take a hit, that I'm just a little bitch who narks over nothing, and that I never deserved Zander. And they're right.

I just can't deal with it. I throw it off the bed and curl my knees to my chest. I grab my hair and pull at it as I feel the tears start to fall. I pull harder and stand up, starting to pace around the room. I try to fathom how I could let myself get into this relationship, and not leave it. But on the other hand, how I completely betray my boyfriend and best friend and not defend him and let the cops send him to jail. I miss Georgia, but I stand to think about all of me and Zander's spots there. I could start over in La Push and become a whole new person. But that seems like a waste, I doubt I can act perfect and who everyone expects me to be when deep down I know I'm using pretending. It's too confusing. Too complicated. It's just all to

***TRIGGER WARNING***

I let out a small scream and go upstairs to Sam and Emily's bathroom, tightly pinching my thigh. I try to breathe as I open drawers and cabinets looking for one thing. I sigh in relief when I finally find it. I hold it up in the mirror. It's metallic silver shade glistens in the light and the edge looks sharp and ready. I curl the razor blade in my hand and run back downstairs. I go into my bathroom and set the blade down on the counter. I grab the edges of the sink. smudging the edges of the sink with the blood I have from holding the razor blade too tightly. I look up in the mirror and grab the razor blade in my fingers and in one quick strike slash it across my neck, digging deep into the skin. I imagine the blood to be cancerous, poisonous, and black. The blood contains all of my problems and as it flows out of me I sigh in relief as every single last one of my problems disappear.

But I snap out of my imagination, and look up to find a untouched and unharmed neck. I scream and drop the razor to the counter, shaking violently while I pull at clumps of my hair. I feel my lungs closing up and I gasp for air and cough it back up, burning the back of my throat. I desperately need to do this, to make every single last problem disappear. I want them all gone. I scream out frustrated, I can't. I cannot do that to my mom. She's worked so hard, trying to make my life the best it can be me caring for me. She worked so many jobs she's hated and spent too many nights working late and not coming home till 1. I can't betray her like that and tell her that everything she sacrificed wasn't worth it. I can't do it to my dad too; he's only been with me and my since for six years-since I was eleven and I can't place any burden on him. And what about Sammy, he'd be the one to find me and I don't know if him and Emily could ever forget seeing my slumped against the bathroom wall blood seeping into my shirt and out of my wrists.

But the looming reason is that if I kill myself, I'll never get to see Zander again, hear his apologies and rebuild our relationship. And here in La Push, I feel like I could have a future, a happy one. Last night I was genuinely happy spending time with Colin and Paul, and forgot about Z for a while. Still it's too tempting, every nerve and gut feeling is telling me to pick the razor up and run it over my neck and my wrists. I shake my hand out, and grab the razor from the top of the counter.

I reason with myself, it's a compromise. Some of my problems will be gone, and I won't have to ruin anyone else lives more then I already have. Just a quick flick across my wrist. I promise. Nothing more. I take in a deep breath of air and try to calm my shaking body. I gasp in a shaky breath and feel my heart beat at my chest, feeling like it wants to burst free. I close my eyes and grab the razor, in my quivering hand. I hesitate one last time before bringing it down across my wrist. I feel a sharp sting and I look down. I didn't even cut deep. There's only a little strip of blood, with some droplets running down my wrist. I smile and can finally relax.

After ten minutes of bliss I pull myself up onto my feet. I grab a towel and wet it, wiping my blood off the countertop and floor. I watch as the clean white fabric gets stained pink. I wash the blood out of the towel and hang it back up. I pick the razor off of the floor and quickly rinse of the crimson ring around the blade. I look up at the mirror and take in myself. I look crazy. Random clumps of hair are standing up on end and my face in flushed red and sticky with tears. It's scares me a little. I look down at my wrist. The cuts shallow and didn't bleed much. It should heal in a week or two. I rinse it out and place a bandage on it before covering it up with some bracelets.

***End Of Trigger Warning***

I grab a huge sweatshirt and yank the hood way down over my face. I grab my keys and walk out the door. I put my keys back and put my trembling hands into my pockets. I start to walk, stomping on the ground and kicking up gravel. I stomp along La Push's main road, keeping my head down and staring at my shoes. I keep walking, kicking at gravel. I start to smell a familiar smell and I smile. I inhale deeply, confirming my suspicion. I recognize the familiar pungent and oily smell of weed. I look up and spot a car parked off of the road. The windows are fogged up by steam. I walk over to the car and knock on the window. They roll down the window and I say, "Hey, hate to be a thirsty bitch but could I take a couple of hits?" They nod and open the door. I slide into the passenger seat, the man I talked to was in the driving seat and there were man and a woman in the back seat. The woman is hunched over a bong, lighting it up and taking a hit. She smiles and puffs it out before handing me the bong. I smile and give a quick thank you. I grab a nub of weed and press it into the shaft. I position my mouth over the pipe and grab the lighter and light up. I automatically feel calmer, just knowing I'll be high soon. I let the vapor bubble up before I take it up, sitting up and blowing a smoke ring on the ceiling, watching it spread to the corners of the car. "Thanks," I mumble again, "I really needed it."

I stumble my way along the gravel road. After taking three hits I am pretty high. I can't remember why I was so sad, just that I don't want to. The world around me in blurry and keeps shifting. I stub my toe on a exposed tree root and I trip and fall onto my side. I smirk. I can't help it I just start laughing. I can't stop, and I don't want to. I sit there laughing and staring up at the sky, making out shapes in the clouds and listening to everything around me. I close my eyes and inhale the wet air. Suddenly a beep of a car horn jolts me. I laugh and wobble to my feet and and start walking again. I need to make it home soon, so I can be home before Sam and Emily. I'm pretty sure I reek of pot and I need to take a shower and wash my clothes so they don't catch me. I continue walking and soon I spot the house. As I walk nearer, I notice the living room light is now on. Sam and Emily beat me home. I gulp and go around to the back of the house where my room is. I drop myself down into the pit that contains the "egrass" window, or basement fire escape. I slide the window open and tumble into my room, leaving the window open to air out the room. I walk over to the shower and hop it not bothering it take off my clothes.

I sit down, not trusting myself to stand on the slippery tub without falling over. I shrug my clothes off and swirl them around in the pool of water. I wash my hair and squirt a dollop of body wash into the tub and wash my clothes. I wring them out and hang them on the shower rail. I get out and wrap a towel around myself. I reach out and wipe the condensation off of the mirror.

I trip and stumble, banging my cast on the counter. I laugh out loud, remembering I didn't bother to try to keep my cast dry. Maybe a doctor and cast it again when I refill my prescriptions. I lie down on the tile floor and slide around, still feeling the affects. I slowly stand up, using the sink for support. I brush my teeth and use eyedrops to get rid of any further evidence. I dry myself off and throw on my dad's oversized sweatshirt and a pair of leggings.

I yawn and walk back into my room. I quickly spritz some perfume on me and spray the room down with some air freshener. I hear some footsteps pad down the stairs and I inhale and sit down on the bed. Sam opens the door and says, "I didn't see you come in, you weren't in your room when we got home." I fiddle with my hands and come up with a quick lie, "Oh that's weird I must have been unpacking some stuff in the bathroom with headphones in," I reply. Sam narrows his eyes and mumbles, "Weird." I breathe a sigh of relief, "Anyway it's dinner time."

Paul

I try to calm down the rage of anger swirling in my head. I have been trying to calm down enough to phase back into human form for twenty minutes now. But every time I try to, I can't. A image of Sutton of Sutton hooked up to machines in the hospital with bruises spreading over her pops into my mind. Or it's Zander ramming his knuckles into his face. But, the worst it imagining Sutton in pain, crying, feeling depressed and lonely. I backhand a tree in frustration and pieces of bark fly into my fur. I try to recall what Sam told me to do when I need to calm down. I start taking deep and even breathes. I close my eyes and imagine a "happy place," Sutton straddling me and putting her hands on the side of my face. I keep attempting to relax and slowly for surely I feel my bones morph and my fur retreat back into my skin. I reach out and grab the pants I stashed in the tree, quickly putting them on. I reach down and pick up the beige envelope. I brush the dirt off of it and carry it with me back into my apartment. I throw the envelope on to the table and I look out the window at the rising sun. I walk back to my room and glance at my alarm clock, 5:34. Great.

I'm alive! So sorry for not updating or posting anything in such a long time. I know excuses don't mean much but I will assure you I was very busy and dealing with some stuff.

I just want to clear up some inconsistencies in my story. I previously said Sutton's dad came into her life when she was very young, but actually he didn't appear until she was eleven, this is play into the story later on. Lastly I said Sutton was timid and shy, but I am going to create a daring and exciting personality to match the story.

Thank you for staying with me my faithful readers. I owe you lots. The more support, reviews, follows, and favorites, I get the quicker the next chapter comes up.

wattagirl: thanks for your constant support sorry that I have not been responding to your PM's. Forgive me?

peanutcookiesXD: sorry for getting us off on the wrong foot but I truly did appreciate the time and effort put into your thoughtful suggestions

Wildanimal: sorry for not updating sooner. Here you go!

Flowerchild23: thank you for all of your reviews. Knowing that I have consistent support from a reader is great

Thanks!