Grief, 2/5- Anger
Title: Grief, 2/5- Anger
Author: wingsss
Rating: K+
Summary: On her way back from Jacob's in chapter 8 of Eclipse, Bella's motorcycle is hit by a truck. She never makes it back to the Cullen's house. The following one shots highlight the reactions of Bella's closest friends and family.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just move them around for my own amusement, and hopefully yours also. Hope you enjoy!
Author's note: This fan fiction is written as a series of one shots from the perspectives of characters in the 5 different stages of grief as described by psychologist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her book "On Death and Dying." They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
Anger- Jacob Black
When I was younger, I wasn't an angry person. Wrath is, of course, one of the seven deadly sins. Not that I usually subscribe to faith in that sense, but anyway, you get my point. Anger is something I usually try to avoid. Being angry at someone-holding grudges-doesn't work. I think the whole yelling, throwing fits, stomping your foot bit doesn't get you anywhere.
That being said, its hard for a werewolf to do any of that. When something happens, the tiniest little thing, even, we explode. When something happens to make my blood boil, I can feel the shakes and tremors in my body. My skin ripples, shifting into fur. That moment when we shift from man to beast feels like fire. In our wolf form, we are at out most basic. Most primitive. We are slaves to our impulses-the most fundamental of which is to kill vampires. And you better believe that translates with us while in human form.
So I guess my point is that anger comes naturally to me. And it was never more prevalent than the day I heard that Bella died. Charlie was frantic and in no state to do much of anything that first day. I couldn't do much either. It was more than I could manage to drive Billy over to Bella's house and help him to the door. I couldn't bear going inside. There were too many memories-doing homework together at the table, washing dishes, the day I almost kissed her-painful memories. Those were pushed back, drowned out by the weight of our last conversation. I had been so angry with her decision to become a vampire. I'd said I wanted her dead. And look that happened now… It was anguish. I felt entirely responsible-so angry at myself. It was entirely my fault she left in such a state, and in such a hurry. These thoughts and memories cut into my skin, carving painful, jagged edges all though me. I knew these were wounds that would never heal.
Stepping back into the rain, I let the misty drops dampen my hair and forehead. I lifted my head, watching the clouds. Running my hand through my hair-it had grown out again-I traced the outline of butterflies, cars, and trees in the dark moving clouds.
I took in the outside of the house, watching the rustle of the leaves on the tree outside her bedroom window. The window was wide open, and the curtains were fluttering in the breeze, the pattern darkened with water. I could see the inside of her room, everything was exactly where she'd left it. Clothes lay in a rumpled pile on the floor, and her computer was still on. That was about all I could deal with. Something about it sent me off and had me running for the trees, trembling.
The ripples tore through my body, shaking my tall frame. Effortlessly, I gave way to my more primal self, running through it. I was pleased to find my head empty, devoid of the thoughts of my pack mates. Good, I was alone to rail at God. Or whatever higher power I should appeal to now.
The most terrible thing about being a werewolf is that you never really escape your human self, or vice versa. There's no running from your feelings. And I was feeling angry today. Livid.
I would never be able to move past this. Bella, who lit up my life. My best friend, my first love. Our last conversation-very possibly her last words-had been so angry. It was so wrong for a person so loving and beautiful to die like that. And it was entirely my fault. I didn't know what I could do to even the score. I hated myself. I was the one who deserved to die, not her. I was so stupid!
If it was possible to phase again, in to something bigger and nastier even than my massive werewolf self, I would have. My body shook, my claws dug into the ground where I now stood. I threw my head back and howled-a howl more like a piercing yell than a sorrowful bay at the moon. I did not know where to go from here, but I would have to start by forgiving myself-and that seemed impossible today.