Author's note: WARNING! WARNING! This is an anti-imprint story, if you don't like that leave. Also, Quil is a bit of a pervert, so if you don't like it, again, LEAVE. I WILL delete any flames or any review asking "why he is a pervert and that he would never do that". I know, but in this story that was needed so live with it.

I feel that there are not a lot of anti-imprint stories out there from the IMPRINT'S POV, and eve less with Quil and Claire. Personally, I don't have a problem with the concept of imprinting. I was just surprised at the lack of anti-imprinting ones. Anyway, the idea stuck and I ended up with this. A lot of them are either about Emily, or Renesmee, but not so much Claire.

Finally, about Quil. I do like Quil, I do. But this is ANTI-IMPRINT, so I needed to make him the bad guy. The thing with him being a pervert is his inner wolf. I felt that his wolf wouldn't care how old she is. If she started to show signs of being ready to be mated, (which, unfortunately, usually begins for girls at that age, between ages 12-16) then his attitude and emotions would change from brotherly to the way a man feels about a woman. There's nothing too graphic, but it is still not okay. Finally with everyone being the way they are about imprinting, I think they would just assume it's her feelings that are changing (since he's supposed to mirror her), not his, and they would think nothing of it. One last thing, in this story, she does NOT know how Emily got her scars, so doesn't know that an Imprint can be hurt by their wolf. (Though it would probably just make her more scared of him).

Enjoy, and R&R.

I could feel his eyes on me. Watching me, waiting. With every step I take I can feel his eyes follow me. It had been this way for as long as I can remember. His presence always just at the edge of every memory. From my 3rd birthday to junior high dances he is there. Unchanged, un-aging. Waiting for me to grow up so he can finally take me for himself.

I didn't always fear him as I do now. When I was little he used to be my favorite playmate/baby sitter. He's the one who would spent hours playing peek-a-boo and dress up with me because he knew it would make me happy. He's the one who helped potty train me the most. I remember the weekends we would spend at the La Push beach, just collecting rocks, playing in the waves (though it made my parents and Aunt Emily furious).

As I grew a little, I started to think of him as an older brother, a protector. My Quil. He was still willing to spend his time with me no matter how old I got. He was there to make me laugh, to hold my hand when I was hurt, and hold me when I cried because some stupid kid made fun of me. I thought that he was the best brother a little girl could have.

When I hit puberty, things started to change. He was still my Quil, but he was different. I think it was the way he looked at me. I used to find his gaze comforting and familiar. But something in his eyes now bothered me. There was a new…heat. I remember a time when I was about thirteen. My body had just started to develop. I had put on my bathing suit to go down to La Push beach with Quil, like I always did. I had thought for a second as I was walking down stairs that I could feel him checking me out. My skin began crawl. My stomach was in knots. This was Quil. I thought of him as a big brother, so the thought of him… appreciating my body was sickening.

I could have forgotten about it and dismissed it as ridiculous if it didn't keep happening. There were times, if I stood close enough, he would run his hand across my waist. It was so light and quick that if I hadn't seen the way his eyes would darken afterward I would think I was imagining it.

It continued like this for the next few years. He doing these little things that made me scared, and I trying to pretend it wasn't happening. I would have told someone what was going on if I thought they would believe me. However, I knew no one would. He never did anything to me physically, something to prove what was happening, so there was no evidence for them to believe me. Besides, I was his imprint. A wolf would never do anything to harm his imprint. He lives to make me happy, to be everything I dreamed. The truth was, he wasn't my dream, he was my nightmare.

I knew what everyone expected. I was supposed to grow up and marry Quil. I was supposed to produce little Quileute warriors and be a stay at home mom. I was supposed to spend the rest of my life taking Emily's place, taking care of the pack and children. That is not what I wanted. I wanted to leave La Push and explore the world. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to have a career that you can't find in a small town like La Push or Forks. I wanted to fall in love the normal way, the human way, and get married to a normal human man. Most of all, I wanted to have dreams. I know that if I stay here, that if I don't escape while I can, I won't get the chance again to live them out.

. My mom knows. She knows I plan to leave the day of graduation. She even helped me pack and bought me plane tickets for across the country. My mom and I have always been able to communicate on a level that no one else can. She's always known what I wanted before even I did.

I think she also knows how I feel about Quil. She never has liked him. I think she found his presence in my life inappropriate. From the beginning she was the biggest protester against him. When he would offer to babysit me she would sneer at him and refuse. If he spent more than a few hours playing with me, she would kick him out. That started the majority of arguments between her and my father, who like everyone else accepted him into my life with ease. My mother is a stubborn woman. The only reason she put up with him this long is because of me. If I hadn't wanted him in my life all this time, she would have been rid of him long ago. (She tells me most of this as she drives me to the airport, driving 90 mph in a 60 mph speed limit zone. "The mutts are probably searching for you as I speak, we have to hurry before they catch up", she explains.) As I said before, she knows me better than I know myself, so I shouldn't have been surprised she was so willing to help me make my escape from them. (She already had plane tickets and suit case bought!)

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. At the time, I thought no one would understand (Though now I wished I had told my mother sooner. I know now she would have taken me away the second she found out. I could have avoided all this grief sooner. Oh well, no point in worrying about that now). So for two years I saved up money, I applied to every college as far away from Washington as I could, and I never mentioned anything to any of the pack. Every one of them would have spilled the beans to either Quil, My dad, or Aunt Emily and Uncle Sam.

The entire pack was there at my graduation. As I walked across the stage, waving, I could feel his eyes on me. Watching me, waiting. With every step I take I can feel his eyes follow me. It had been this way for as long as I can remember. His presence always just at the edge of every memory. From my 3rd birthday to junior high dances he is there. Unchanged, un-aging. Waiting for me to grow up so he can finally take me for himself. Now was his chance. And now was my chance.

My heart pounded as I weaved through the crowd. I went unnoticed. The pack wouldn't be able to spot me among the excited parents and graduates, and why would they try to? They had no idea what was about to happen. At last I made it to the car with my mom waiting, all my stuff packed and ready to go.

I arrived to the airport shortly after. The conversation during the car ride made me feel so much better. I was so elated that my mom understood how I felt and was fully on board with my decision. We hugged a long while before my flight was boarding. I wasn't sure when I'd next see my mom, and didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to her. I did feel a twinge of guilt that I wouldn't get to see goodbye to my father. He would be so hurt and confused that I did not tell him I was leaving. But, it was for the best. I knew he would forgive me once he understood.

My flight was called to board. "I love you so much baby girl," she whispered into my ear. She squeezed me to her tighter. I buried my face into her shirt, relishing in her warmth. I tried my hardest to memorize this hug. As I memorized the smell of her perfume, (a scent that would always belong to her alone in my mind) I her whispered back to her, tears in my eyes, "I love you too mom. Tell dad I'm sorry and I love him too, will you?"

"Of course. And he loves you too, and I'm sure he'll understand your decision soon baby girl." I nodded. Taking one last look back at her, I stepped onto the plane, ready to live my life, free from any supernatural chains.