Jacob

For days, I let my anger and fury settle and stew in my body. I take it out on training dummies and find myself shouting more often than I usually do. I don't really want to, but I am fuming.

I can't believe what Ana said. I know that she probably didn't mean most of it. She was likely saying all of those things to protect her own emotions. Even so, it infuriates me that it came out of her mouth.

Why would she think that that was the right moment to ask me if I could love her? Why would she think there would ever be one? I constantly feel like I am losing my mind, like I want to go back and continue that argument.

I want to get it all out, and at the same time, I want to bottle everything up. I want the seething fury to stay and fuel my days.

At the same time, I am starting to get uncomfortable. Ana never speaks to me. She barely eats and spends most of her waking hours upstairs or anywhere that's away from me. I suppose she's avoiding me after that argument, but it seems like there is another reason under all of it.

"Jacob, why are you here?" Kimon glances at me from the entrance to the guard barracks. He seems surprised to see me.

"Night shift," I reply shortly. I've been gruff over the last while, and he's brushed it over. Probably doesn't want to pry into my personal life. I appreciate it.

"Uh, you're not scheduled for tonight," his face is contorted in confusion. "You've been busy all day, now you want to stretch your work to nearly morning? What's up with you?"

"I actually forgot." It's the truth. I've been operating almost automatically while my mind was boiling with angry thoughts. "You sure I'm not supposed to be here?"

"Yeah, shit," Kimon insists. "I am literally in charge of the patrolling schedule. What's got you in such a daze these days, huh? Is it a girl?"

"Don't even go there," I warn, my tone low and my wolf puffing itself up.

Kimon lifts his hands in a gesture of submission and peace. "Sorry, alright. You need to get some sleep, man, whatever this is. Figure you'll feel better after a nap."

I sigh. He's probably right, but I've not slept very well over these last few days. I can't bring myself to actually tell him what's going on, but I don't have to. The concern is clear in the way he's looking at me.

"Fine, I'll see you tomorrow."

I walk home with some trepidation. The house has been too quiet and tense, making me wonder if I should try to smooth things over. I don't want to, really.

Most of my mind prefers stewing in anger and building frustration. The rest of it knows that someone has to apologize first, and it might as well be me. If I want to have a good friendship with Ana, then we'll have to stop being silent at some point.

Unsure of whether I actually want that friendship, I make up my mind that I'm going to try and talk to her anyway.

When I get to the house, I see that the bathroom light is on upstairs. The rest of the place is shrouded in darkness, even Ana's room. I have a gut feeling that something isn't right.

It makes me on edge immediately. I walk inside quietly, and head up the stairs, making sure that my feet don't cause them to creak. Everything feels completely empty, aside from that nagging sensation that there is something wrong here.

I'm sure that Ana is in the bathroom, but for some reason, I decide to check her room first. She's not in her bed, and the place looks fairly disorderly. That much is normal.

When I walk back towards the bathroom, slowly and silently, I realize why it all feels so off. I don't hear the sound of the shower or splashing water in the bathtub. The smell of blood is seeping through the spaces between the door, the floor, and the wall.

Instantly, I know that I have to get in there, despite being slightly worried that Ana could just be naked and on the toilet or something. I grasp onto the door handle and fling the whole thing open.

I step inside, where Ana gets a massive fright from me storming in. Obviously she did not expect me to be there at all.

A knife clatters to the ground beside her, slick with blood that splatters over the tiles in a morose crimson pattern. Ana's arms are both covered in deep, self-inflicted wounds, all freely releasing red life onto the blue dress that she is wearing.

For several seconds, I can't do anything but stare in horror at what I'm seeing. Ana is frozen in place, not moving to explain or to grab the knife again.

"What. The. Fuck," I breathe as I slowly start to realize what is going on. I repeat myself more forcefully, my voice roaring through the tiny room. "What the fuck, Ana?"

She is immediately defensive. "Why are you here? You're supposed to be on night shift."

"I'm not scheduled," I answer, watching her pick up the knife from the ground and clutching it to her chest. "That doesn't matter. Tell me what is going on here. Right now."

"Why should I?" She moves herself backward, leaving smears of blood behind and making it look like the scene of a grisly attack. "You wouldn't understand, anyway."

"I'm not asking you," I warn with a dangerous growl in my voice. "I am ordering you."

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" Ana shrieks, pointing the knife towards me, clearly not as a threat, but as a defense. "It's none of your business! You can't just shove your nose everywhere because you think you're so important!"

"Really? Ana, you're in my bathroom, on the floor, bleeding everywhere," I point out, stepping forward so that half of my shoe is in her blood. It makes me shiver unhappily. "This is absolutely my business."

"Why can't you leave me alone?" The broken notch in her tone tells me that she's close to crying. "Why do you have to keep showing up? Can't you go away and just let me do what I need to?"

"Look what happens when I'm not here!" I lose my patience, and I am simply shouting now. "Ana, don't you see what's wrong with this picture? Fuck, I'm literally standing in your blood!"

My shouting seems to be affecting her, but she only looks furious now. "Screw you!"

I'm seeing red now, and not just because of her blood. A low growl builds to a snarl from my throat up through my lips. "You know what, give me that!"

I snap my jaw to release the snarl on that last word and lunge forward. I rip the knife from her hand violently and fling it behind me. It clangs against the wall before falling to the floor.

Ana flinches in shock and shoves herself right up against the shower. She pulls her legs up to her chin and wraps her arms around them. It looks like she's trying to make herself as small as possible.

Immediately, I regret my aggression. She is broken, tired, and in pain, and all I'm doing is making it worse. I don't want to be another reason for her to repeat this behavior.

"Ana," I sigh, my tone much more calming. I kneel down beside her and trail a finger across her cheek. She stares at me like a frightened deer. "Ana, I'm sorry. Come here."

Slowly, Ana releases her legs from her arms' death grip. She seems to be uncertain, but a switch flips in her mind and she makes a decision. The next moment, Ana flings herself forward into my arms, grasping at my shirt with bloodied fingers.

I sink back to sit against the bathtub as rough sobs rack her body. I keep holding her so tightly against my chest that I'm sure if I'm restricting her breathing, not wanting to let go.

It takes several minutes for the sobs to subside, and I don't speak at all until I feel her slump against me.

"Ana, I don't want to see you hurting like this," I say, running a hand through her hair. "I don't want you to be this unhappy."

She doesn't look up at me. Instead, she curls the rest of her body up until she is a small bundle under my arm. "I know that."

"You're going to be okay, even if I have to give my life to make it so," I continue. "But you can't destroy yourself like this. Please. It hurts me more than you know."

"Okay," she says so softly that I can barely hear it. I take it as a promise.