a/n; [who reads these things i hope you guys do] yes im back, back on the track. hopefully i manage to actually update this one. leah/carlisle, some sex, some violence.

read, review, tell your homeboys to do the same. also first chapter is kind of ehh but backstory! and context! also the timeline is tailored to this year and no esme!

song of the chapter is scary love - the nbhd.

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obsessive

1.

your love is therapy no drug can give me clarity
as much as you do

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As a proud virgin, innocence and virtue coating her like the glaze on a doughnut she had lived her life free from the weight of debauchery and filth. Every Sunday morning, like clockwork, she had renewed her promise to remain pure and had diligently followed through with this abstinence for nineteen years of her life. Never mind the rising hem of her skirts each year or the frilly baby-doll tops - when you have legs like hers, Leah rationalises, they deserve to be seen. Sam appreciated it, running lascivious eyes and sometimes hands up and down her long legs. She had smiled, proud blush rising on her cheeks and tossed her long hair over her shoulders.

Of course, for one to remain a virgin, they have to thwart all advances. So she swats his hands away when they rise to high or wander too far. Giggle, swat, hair toss. Sam had groaned and moaned through this, but Leah never loses so she doesn't lose her virginity. From ages fourteen to nineteen, she had held strong like the trees on the forests surrounding Forks. Weathering the storm; bending but never breaking.

So at eighteen, she decides to have sex with Sam. He had been distant, away from her for weeks at a time and probably pumping steroids with how ripped he had become. That's okay because sometimes Leah had accepted the joint passed to her at a few parties. Poor Sam, lacking esteem in his slightly above average looks,

He'd already proposed. They have the rest of their lives together planned and penned down, pink file shining on Leah's nightstand. If they're going to get married anyway its not fornication, she thinks.

She paces up and down her room, white tennis skirt swishing around her thighs, petting the fat, white Persian cradled in her arms. In her moments of fuckery, the only one she can trust is Louis XIV. Getting her family to leave was easy as they had gone to Charlie's for dinner, probably gorging on fish doused in butter and cream. Disdain veiled by a polite refusal, she had set to getting ready as soon as her parents and brother walked out the front door.

He eats his fill of pasta when he arrives (Leah only winces five times at all the calories he is ingesting, of course. She's trying to get laid - not chase him away) and she had tosses off her gown and displays herself like a Victoria's Secret model -all legs and shiny skin. Sam, simple obtuse creature that he is, pounces like a rabid dog onto her, slobbering and rough.

Getting tossed onto her bed and slamming her head on her headboard had her hissing in pain, rubbing the spot as Sam advanced in the dim candlelight, a figure straight from Alien v Predator.

Breathe, Leah, she instructs herself. Just an in and out job, right? Get it over with.

Sam labours over her, grunting like the wild animal he is. He hadn't even paused to appreciate her underwear - ripping her panties like cheap tissue and discarding them somewhere on her bedroom floor. She was indignant over that, but otherwise the night was going to plan. Sam leans over her, fumbling with his average penis which looks nothing like the ones she'd seen in the porn she'd watched to prepare (it's definitely not enough to batter insides raw but she's also disappointed because for all his muscle mass she expected a dick to match) and she had stared at it with slight apprehension. Penises, Leah decides, are ugly and funny looking. For the cause she will endure.

Leah can not go through with Sam sticking his willy in her, so she kneels on the floor, between his legs, and shoves his dick into her mouth until he comes. She aims that away because no way is she getting his sperm in her eyes nor is it going down her throat.

As soon as he leaves she's in the shower, scrubbing the sin off her skin, marinating in detol. She brushes her teeth four times and swirls the mouthwash around aggressively. She washes her frilly bedsheets under the cross eyed gaze of Louis XIV who lazes on the washing machine. There's a glint in his eye - a judgemental glint - and Leah feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up. When she tries to pick him up he hisses and scratches her, leaving her to despair.

"Our ranks are broke and ruin follows us!" she screeches at him, collapsing in the heap of dried sheets.

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She carries Louis XIV to see Sam a week later and finds him balls deep in her cousin Emily (not that bottoming is a feat for him, she points out to herself) and the cat leaps into a frenzy, hissing and biting and scratching Sam while Emily cries and begs and apologises and leah, its not what it seems; leah im so sorry and leah we didn't mean for it to go this far.

Throughout this she's standing in the doorway and analysing Louis's form. Her cat is a true predator - a panther, agile and fast, attacking swiftly at the prey that falls to his feet, inflicting killing blows. And Sam falls and sobs and cries while she looks at the mucus smeared across his face in disgust and picks up Louis who purrs and rubs himself against her legs.

Her dusty cousin is red in the face and Leah rolls her eyes at the fornicators.

"The road to hell is wide, but the road to the father is narrow Emily," she remarks, face schooled into bored indifference. "You should have kept your genitalia narrow also." The disgust makes itself known when her focus slides to Sam who is putting on a pair of crusty baggy jeans as if its 2007. Despite the formulas in her head, she can't figure out how he gains twenty kilograms in muscle mass and still manages to look a fool in these jeans. She spins around because that is Emily's problem now; they can look crusty around the rez without her.

Leah tosses her hair over her shoulder and shrugs her camo jacket higher from where it had slipped down to her elbows. Magazines say she should be heartbroken but all she can think of is how she had put Sam's dick in her mouth after it had probably emerged from Emily's radioactive vagina. She stalks away in her tight jeans and trainers, grateful for her long legs as she scoops up Louis and ignores the cries coming from Sam's house.

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Three weeks later and Leah has come to the conclusion that Sam has given her an std he got from plundering the cesspit that is Emily.

She's in bed burning from the inside out, sweat coating her skin and despite the pain in her head all she can can think is how disgusting it is to have the sheets stick to her body so she throws herself out of bed once to turn her fan to its highest setting. She's trembling and delirious for two weeks, slipping in and out of consciousness between dry heaving and plotting her ex's demise. She already has several options ready; no one can hear you scream in the woods when its raining and in Washington it's always raining. She will wear gloves when digging the whole to bury him in so she doesn't get dirt beneath her finger nails. She's not one for manual labour but she only trusts herself to get the job done. Then she's back to wheezing and choking on her own breath because it hurts to be alive so she blacks out.

Her parents spend this time exchanging worried gazes and checking on Emily and Seth spends it crying by her bedside and making her soup she can't stomach and Louis XIV spends it next to her in bed, sometimes smothering her face in all his white fur.

She is burning alive, and like a phoenix she rises from her ashes.

When she is conscious enough to stumble down the stairs to get some food she finds her parents in the kitchen. She mutters about the vile creature that is her cousin and her mother glares at her, that's your cousin leah, why cant you be happy for her? Leah's body trembles in anger and her temper flares, so she spins around to argue, which her father joins in. The burning heat licks down her spine and she's warping, being sucked into the black hole only she can feel - then she explodes.

She has risen from her ashes and turned into an overused horror movie monster - even her dad can't stand it so he falls to the ground and Seth walks in and he's screaming and their mother is joining him, gathered around her father's body and Seth is shaking and poof! he's a cheap movie monster too and while her brother is suffering in her head and her father is dying because of her all she can do is look around at the scraps of her clothes and mourn the loss of her favourite tracksuit.

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It's obviously an std - like It Follows but instead of Leah's weird neighbour staring at her and following her to fuck her to death she transforms into Kujo.

She's taller by a few inches and she has some muscles and its disgusting because she looks like herself but like she bench pressed an island and od'd on the steroids she still thinks Sam is taking. And despite all the starving and rotting she did while sick Leah has put on weight. She has metamorphosed into a monster just like Gregor Samsa. She stands next to her brother at her father's funeral in her fanciest black dress and heels, hair carefully curled, Louis XIV held carefully in her arms. The funeral is boring and she zones out most of the time.

As soon as she gets home she huddles in her room because she can hear the peasants coming to get her; pitchforks sharpened and torches lit. She can also smell the manure and sweat clinging to their dirty skin and retches in the confines of her own imagination. She is not hiding - she is regrouping. Planning new strategies, practising a distraught expression in the mirror so no one thinks she is completely emotionally vacant but gives up because the frowning would give her wrinkles.

Two days after the funeral she is pinned down and her hair is cut off. Because your fur would be too long in wolf form, leah, Sam says and Seth sniffs and snips away. She is devastated - now she has no hair to hide her manly shoulders. She is seething in anger and rage is written across her face but never in her eighteen years of life has leah begged for mercy and she never will so she adds Paul and Jared to her hitlist. Leah has never liked Paul anyway (he's always wheezing down her neck and can you stop hovering over my shoulder, fam, breathing my air can you go to the corner she hisses at him) so he's dead twice to her.

She had loved her hair but now its all over the kitchen floor just like her goals and her father but she doesn't cry for her hair; she seethes and swears and cuts them down with sharp words and your mommas a ho, embry.

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The Cullens, she admits, are attractive.

Jake had barged into her room when she was mid Stranger Things with a clay mask on her face and Louis settled on her stomach. She tossed a pillow at him and he forced her out of bed, pleading with her to escort him to see Bella. She is stone faced until he offers to buy her lunch. Leah scrubs herself vigorously in the shower and moulds herself into a peach cotton bodycon and her camo jacket. She's tying the laces to her white trainers when Jake hollers for her to hurry and he shoves her onto his motorbike.

They get to Bella's and Leah leans on a tree because Jacob wants to look cool leaning on his bike. Edward pulls up in his volvo and swerves and parallel parks and she is mildly impressed. He steps out of his car and damn baby boy, Leah thinks, and is more than impressed. His messy hair falls into his eyes and he looks expensive in ripped jeans and a white button up. Ralph Lauren. Even though he smells like bleach and burnt sugar she doesn't mind his handshake or his smirk.

She's surrounded by shirtless boys but a vampire makes heat rush to her face and she's quick to turn away, shoving her earphones back in.

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There's a vampire army coming to kill them and Leah is two hours late to the meeting. She appears in the treeline when Embry is throwing subliminals, dressed in a pair of cut off shorts, a daisy patterned crop top and black combat boots. In her arms is Louis XIV who is groomed to perfection, large pink bow tied around his neck.

"Fornicators!" her eyes slide to Sam who is lumbering around in his wolf form, "Film watchers! Fashionistas! Single Mothers!" her gaze snaps to Embry who flushes. "A demonic spirit is working in your life, leading you to the gangsters and witch doctors of Forks, Washington, giving them the last of your cash monies for drugs and this thing!" She props her foot on a rock, side eyeing her pack mates.

The rest of the Cullens are glancing at her oddly but Leah has seen the sometimes constipated look on Edward's face before so she chooses to ignore them. Sam looks like he is having a seizure from all the shaking in anger he's doing. Paul is joining him in vibrating on the forest floor and Jared looks lost. She can already hear his annoying voice in her ears, screaming about punctuality and respect. Leah is always punctual when it matters. She was right on time to get Louis to the groomer.

Sam phases and comes to argue with her, std steroid muscles bulging and she stares at them while tuning out his voice.

"I don't like the tone of your voice," she deadpans when his volume increases.

"Maybe if you came on fucking time to this meeting I would not have to shout at you!" he is yelling.

"Okay but it's Louis's birthday today," she shrugs and turns her back on him, ignoring his cursing.

Her eyes drift to the Cullens who are standing in formation, taking in the exchange. There's baby boy Edward (he's glaring and wishing dust upon Jake who has an arm wrapped around a blushing Bella's shoulders), a short one standing next to a blonde one who has a crazed look in his eye, a blonde girl standing next to a vampire equivalent of Sam - complete with bulging arms and pulsing neck muscles. All beautiful, yellow eyes alert. Leah wonders how any of them have managed to lie their ways into high school - they look physically older than her 18 years. Her eyes slide to the only vampire that hasn't bribed his way into high school.

Dr Carlisle Cullen - a veritable angel, pale blonde hair mussed around his ethereal face, rosy lips settled in his soft smiles. Leah runs her gaze over his outfit, deeming it passable, before flitting to his eyes and her breath stutters in her chest. She chokes on her saliva and coughs violently, Louis hissing and scratching her arms when she grips him tightly. Her packmates are snickering and she glares at them through teary eyes. Blacklisted. All dead to her.

She returns to staring at Carlisle who's frowning at her slightly in concern. Leah is fucked - fucked. She needs to leave. She needs to analyse the situation. Carlisle Cullen is her imprint (she knows the feeling from Sam and Quill and Paul and its uncomfortable in her chest, making her stomach roil and she feels like she's going to be sick. Leah doesn't do public embarrassment; she has a reputation to uphold) and she doesn't know what to do so she spins on her feet, pushes past a still lecturing Sam, and bolts through the woods like she owes Jared money.

She needs to regroup and gather her wits. She's imprinted on a father figure. A daddy. Louis XIV is still hissing and spitting.