Blurb:

"When are you going to stop being so stupid?!"

"When the scars on mum's face heal!" I scream back.

If there's one thing I know, love hurts.

The Story of Emily and Sam's Son

Authors Note

It feels good to be writing again, but mainly cause in this story I'm trying to write a little differently. I really want it to be deeper. I knew I wanted to write a story about Sam's son ages ago, and then when he was a character in my, No Seriously My Names Wolfie, I was sure about writing him one, but I also new I had to finish some other stories. I started his off course, but I've decided to go a different way, I really hope you guys like it.

Chapter One

Love is the most controlling and uncontrollable thing to ever exist.

Anonymous

There's being quiet and unnoticed, and then there's me. I'm the girl no one really knows. I'm not saying that in a bad way, I'm just saying it as a statement. I'm the girl no one knows who she really is. They might say, "I think she's in my English class," or, "I think she might have won a prize for that poem she wrote," or maybe if I'm lucky, "Is she someone's popular cousin?"

I'm that girl the girl that no one really knows, the kind of person people just make guesses about cause they refuse to admit they just might have no idea what I'm like. I'm that girl.

It's not like I'm unhappy about who I am, and dying for popularity, because to be honest I paved my own path of obscurity of being no one. I did it deliberately partly out of shyness, but more as a precaution because I'm not hiding myself, not really. I'm hiding my secrets, I'm hiding, no I'm protecting what needs to be protected. The secrets I refuse to let anyone know, I'm not that girl, at least not to me. I'm the safe girl, and I intend to stay that way.

"Angel, sweetheart, are you ready," Mum calls; her voice is one of those always kind sounding ones. The kind that makes you wants to spill your guts out to her, the kind of voice that has never managed to have any effect one me, though. Maybe I've just become immune to everything over time, or maybe I'm just one of those people that can never really share anything.

"Yes, I'm ready," I say as I close my bedroom door behind me.

In my house there are no stairs to come down from, we live in a box house, it's small and shaped like a box and a very pale green color with a small garden out the front which is mostly roses that my mother constantly neglects to attend to. It only has two bedrooms and I share mine with my older brother that left for college a year ago, the other half still isn't mine, despite him telling me I could make it all mine, it just doesn't feel like it belongs to me when it so clearly still belongs to him. It will always be our room, not my room, I just can't see it any other way.

I make my way towards the kitchen which is only a couple steps away from my bedroom, the house is one of the smallest houses I've ever seen, everything is right next to each other and no matter how you rearrange the furniture it always ends up looking small, too small for three or two people too small. Mum's leaning on the counter drinking tea and staring into space; lost in her thoughts; as soon as she sees me she smiles slightly at my presence.

"Oh good, your ready," Mum exclaims. As if I'm ever late. She pours the rest of the tea into the sink and quickly rinses it.

"So, is it a good day or bad day today?" Mum asks, placing the cup somewhere to dry.

"It'll be ok," I say.

"Well that's good isn't it, there's nothing worse then looking at your timetable and discovering you have a bad day, is there," Mum states cheerfully as she grabs her handbag from the counter.

"So, is your day a good day or a bad day?"

"Good, really, I have my favorite clients today." Mum smiles at the thought, then looks over at me. "I mean not that I have favorites of course," she says professionally. "At least that's what I'm saying if anyone asks me at work."

I nod my head and smile at her joke, though it really wasn't that funny. Sometimes I feel like I'm a let down to my mother, I know she would have probably preferred an out there, loud daughter, instead she got stuck with me; quiet and withdrawn, at least the withdrawn part is knew. I know that I should show more emotion, try and get involved more, but I can't help but feel like I just can't, like it's impossible to go back to how I was before. How anything was before, just looking at this house makes me know for certain I can't go back to the way things were before.

Mum leads the way to the car; it's a small second hand one, everything we own these days seems to be small. As soon as we get in the car mum turns on the radio; she has this habit of always letting it play softly in the back round, making sure it's soft enough so we can still have a conversation. Mum is constantly trying to connect with me like she does her clients, she's a therapist and figuring people out is what she does.

"Did I hear you talking to Hayden last night?" Mum asks, her voice curious.

"Yeah I was, he was good," I say, predicting her next question.

"Did he mention when his visiting again?" Mum asks, backing out of the driveway.

"Yeah, briefly, says he will when he can. I didn't get to hear the end of it, some of his friends came over."

"Oh, well it's good he's fitting in so well, isn't it?"

"Hayden fits in well anywhere."

"Yes, he's charming," Mum agrees proudly.

I think mum views Hayden as one of her biggest achievements. He's the type of person that makes friends instantly and easily, who manages to be popular without even trying and makes an effort to talk to everyone, he's also my older brother and my mothers pride and joy. It's not like Hayden is the out right favorite, she's as equally interested in my life as she is his, sometimes me more because to her I'm such a mystery. I think she just finds Hayden easier, easier to be proud of.

For a while, Mum and I fall into silence, some slow Dixie Chicks song comes on and mum and I don't say anything, we just listen.

"Your English teacher called me," Mum blurts out after a while.

"Why?" I ask, as far as I know I've done thing wrong.

"To tell me you won an award for a poem."

"Oh, yeah, that."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mum asks, annoyance lacing her words.

"It's not a big deal."

"Yes it is, you're such a talented writer," Mum says proudly, beaming at me looking away from the road to show me how proud she is.

"Thanks," I say awkwardly. I know Mum wants to say more, but we've reached school. I open the door as soon as she pulls up and before she can say anything else I get out.

"Love you," I say as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

"Love you too sweetie," Mum replies, and then I close the door and head towards school.

School is one of those things we all just have to live through, we all just have to get through a task that must be finished, something that must be done, that's school, at least too me. I don't hate it or love it, I don't really have an emotion towards it. I go through the motions of it, but I'm not emotionally attached to it, how can you be emotionally attached to something when no one even knows your there.

People are already filling the halls of Forks High, I live in the middle of Forks and La Push more towards La Push but mum insisted I go here, she didn't have to insist when we moved here I didn't care where I went. I still don't really it's the same result, but mum felt like this would be a better fit, she thought it would be a more structured school, personally I don't think it makes a difference.

No one looks at me as I make my way towards my locker, no one ever does, a couple of people mutter apologies when they ran into me. I open my locker and shove my books in there. I stare at the door. I've never really bothered to personalize it, there's just a single picture of me and Hayden the day he was leaving for College. Mum was taking pictures of everything that day including the picture of me holding him and crying, trust me to put the saddest picture of me and him up on my locker, the guilt of leaving is clearly written on his face and the look of complete sadness that he's leaving me is clearly printed on mine. To make things even worse, it's black and white which somehow seems to make it sadder, yet somehow, when I look at it I don't miss him much, maybe because I know he's missing me too, stupid really.

"Is that ya boyfriend," a voice says.

I spin around and slam the door shut, standing in front of me is obviously someone new, he's got brown messy hair and dark eyes, all new people get these lockers at the very end of the hallway; he must be in my year guessing by his height.

"No," I say flatly.

"Oh, sorry, thought he must have been, my bad," he says. "I'm Chris," he says, smiling at me

"Angel."

"Your parents must have high hope for you, huh."

"What?"

"Angel, you know, gotta be an Angel, get it? " Chris explains, laughing at his own joke.

"Oh, um, yeah I get it," I say, laughing quietly and wondering why he's still bothering with the conversation.

"Cool, well I'll see you round I guess," Chris says, waves cheerfully, and disappears down the hall.

I look at my time table, History, oh, I forgot about that. We have an exertion today where apparently we're going to be learning about La Push history since we're learning about the history about us. I hate history, it's just a reminder that no matter what people still take time to write down the biggest failures in the world.

The bell rings and barely anyone moves, taking their time and finishing their conversations. I walk slowly to class, getting there early gets you noticed by the teacher which is something I try and avoid.

I shuffle into class with a couple of people, all talking to each other, our history teacher is a kid in our class's father, one of those people that everyone seems to know really well and like.

"Well, today you get the whole day off," Mr. Faker says loudly.

Everyone cheers as if it's true. Pete Lakes stands up on his chair and screams Halleluiah.

"And go to La Push and learn about our history!" Mr. Faker finishes, everyone moans like they didn't expect the end of that sentence and Mr. Faker smiles

"Now, now how bad could it be, I mean, I know I'm not the worlds most interesting person, but come on we'll have some fun."

No one really says anything, and he smiles at us all taking that as agreement with him and begins listing the rules for what we can and can't do .Don't go too close to the cliffs, and all of the usual common sense rules.

"Sir, I think we should monitor Luke, he's wearing black today, and cliffs and emos don't go well," Pete says loudly, and Luke, his best friend, rolls his eyes and shoves him.

The class bursts out laughing like usual when Pete opens his mouth.

"I think Luke is happy enough for us not to have to monitor him," Mr. Faker says.

"Okay, but if he takes the plunge it's on your head," Pete says, a couple of people giggle and others just burst out laughing all over again.

A knock at the door gets everyone attention and everyone looks to see if it's anyone remotely interesting, and today it will be, it's the new guy, Chris, everyone has their eyes on him, trying to work out what group he will fit in to and if he's worth talking to, my guess is he'll fit in with Pete's group; he's loud and cheerful like most of them are.

"Hey, sorry got lost, which is kinda sad since my old school is like twice as big as this one."

"Isn't every other school twice as big as this one," Luke calls out.

"Probably," Chris says.

"You must be Christopher Arther" Mr. Faker says.

"Yeah, Chris."

'Well take a sit, you're in for a treat, we're all going on a trip today," Mr. Faker beams

Chris nods his head, I see out of the corner of my eye Luke motioning to the spare seat next to him. Chris of course takes it easily, and I know my guess is easily correct, some things are just too easy to guess, sadly only something's.

It took half an hour to get everyone on to the bus, and double check everyone was on. Sometimes the simplest tasks seem to be the most complicated at school, I always wonder how the teachers can be bothered. The bus ride is boring and I stare at the scenery as we drive past my house in the middle of nowhere. I hear Pete.

"Does anyone know whoever lives there?" Pete asks.

No one answers and I sure don't.

"I swear, that house is like the mystery house," Luke joins in.

I don't bother to tell them there's nothing mysterious about it, because I think they find it more enjoyable imagining it to be something different anyway. I notice Chris look over at me once he's sitting next to Locklyn, someone who is great friends with Luke and Pete, it figures he's already part of it. Basically ever since Matthew Row left they've been looking for someone else.

After that, the bus ride is completely boring and nothing happens. As soon as we arrive everyone is eager to get out.

"Now, before we get to work, which, trust me, we will be doing," Mr. Faker tells us, standing at the bus exit so no one can get out, and ignoring the sighs that follow his statement.

"You can all stretch your legs and enjoy the scenery for 15 minutes, and then it's back here outside the bus and we do some work, got it?"

No one replies, of course, but he takes the silence as a yes, and finally hops off the bus so we can all do the same.

I stand up and get pushed into someone instantly. "Sorry," I mutter.

"No problem, I think it was more me then you," Chris says.

His voice is easy to recognize, it's soft but strong and kind, one of those voices that is easy to trust; but lots of things are easy to trust.

"So, what's La Push like?" Chris asks.

"Smaller then Forks," I say, mainly because I know nothing about this place, besides the fact it is indeed small. Mum and I have never bothered to visit it much, I think Hayden use to come down for parties sometimes, but that was about my only association with the place.

"Wow that is small."

"Oh, and there's a beach," I say weakly

"I can see that," Chris says looking out the bus window, he doesn't say it cruelly, more amused really.

"Yeah, sorry"

"Hey, don't worry, I'd struggle to know what to say about this place too," Chris says with a laugh.

The line moves and I'm finally off the bus.

"See you," Chris says and heads towards Locklyn, Luke, and Pete smiling at me, a couple of people turn to look at me, but only for a second in mild of interest more than anything else.

Everyone begins to wonder down to the beach and I follow mainly because I miss the water sometimes, the sound of the waves is nice even if it is freezing outside, something you have to adjust to if you live here. I wonder further down the beach to get away from all the chatter interfering with the sound of the waves.

I walk slowly and quietly, remember how Hayden use to always say the smallest steps can sometimes end up being the biggest, by the end of year 12 he had become addicted to inspiring sayings, maybe because all his teachers seemed to be saying it to him, or maybe because that summed out how Hayden was, always optimistic, always happy, always inspiring.

As soon as I stop hearing voices of everyone else, I sit down and stare at the ocean. I try and think what mum would be doing, probably giving some confused person perfect advice while fiddling with her hair, something she does when she knows she's saying something that could really matter.

I feel sorry for her because I know her plan in life didn't go the way she wanted it, and yet she spends her life trying to help people get there lives the right way. It seems unfair that the one thing she needs help with she spends all the energy she has on doing it for someone else.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

I turn quickly when I hear the cursing. I see the person straight away, mainly because he's the type of person that is hard to miss, he's over 6 foot and he's obviously native with golden skin and shaggy black hair, but that's not the thing that makes him so noticeable, it's his grey eyes filled with pain and anger. He hasn't seen me yet, obviously too consumed with his own thoughts like everyone else is these days, after all, we're the selfish generation if you haven't heard. People are always saying that now, but it always amuses me that they never question how we became that way.

His voice is rough like sandpaper and gravel, the kind of voice that gets the girls' attention. He's wearing nothing but a paper of jeans with holes at the knees. He runs his hands through his hair.

"Another thing I did to piss you off," he mumbles, and picks up a rock and chucks it at the ocean with such force it's almost amazing.

It's clear I shouldn't be here, this moment is too personal, and besides his obvious good looks that I can't deny, he is obviously messed up in an angry scary kind of way. My mother would have a heart attack at the thought of me near a person like this on a beach, maybe I'm being judgmental but there's something about him that screams dangerous for so many reasons.

As soon as I begin to get up, I know he knows I'm there cause I can feel someone staring at me. I turn around to make sure he is, and sure enough there he is looking surprised as soon as his eyes lock with mine. His expression changes, there's surprise still there, but there's also something else, his face is mixed with so much emotions it's hard to know what he's thinking, and I'm pretty good at reading people.

His gaze is burning into mine, locking with my eyes and forcing me to look at him, it's impossible to turn away, it's impossible to keep looking because I know he's really looking unlike any one has. I can't work out why, and I don't feel safe, I don't feel like the safe girl. I finally manage to look down at the ground and break the gaze, I can hear him breathing hard like he forgot to. I look back at the beach and I can make out figures walking towards the bus again, it's time to head back not that, I was planning on staying I just want to disappear and forget about whatever just happened. I start walking away as quickly as I can, praying he'll let me go.

"Wait!" he calls.

I don't, of course, I learnt long ago nothing is ever worth the wait, no matter how much you want it to be.

"I can't," I say quietly. I don't know why I bother to answer him, but something in me makes me.

"What's your name then?" his rough voice begs.

He sounds so desperate, like he's dying to hear my name, to gather something for him, and I feel like I owe him that, even though it's clear I don't.

"My names Angel," I say quietly.

I hear him chuckle, but it sounds like he doesn't think it's funny at all.

"Oh the irony" he says, his voice so rough and so emotional.

I keep on walking, getting further and further away and I can feel him watching me. I'm never going to see him again, I know that these sorts of things only ever happen once, and for some reason I want something to remember about this, to take away from this.

"What's your name?" I say.

"The Devil!" he calls now since we're so far away, I'm surprised he can hear me clearly.

I don't believe him, not for a second, his voice gives it away, but I don't correct him. I'm happy for him to remain the devil to me.

I'm happy, isn't something I've thought in a while.

Authors Note

Wow maybe it's just me, but this feels different. I know I have other stories to work on, don't worry I'm aware. I was sitting down to write Out of Control and this came pouring out, and something about this chapter felt right, I guess. [Cheesy I know] so I'm gonna post it before I never do, and yes I know another story, but I will update Out of Control. I promise just review and tell me what you think, so yes this is Jack's story, I hope you like it review, review, review! LOL

BC