setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
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 [Private] Time to Kill - Page 3

[Private] Time to Kill

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Re: [Private] Time to Kill

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Fri Nov 20, 2015 1:46 pm

She needed water, and I needed a drink. I gave her a nod, and once she was out of view I reached under my cushion and pulled out a bottle. But unfortunately, my stash was dry. There was about a half a drink lingering at the bottom of the bottle, just enough to saturate my tongue, but no where near enough to prepare me for the rest of this night. I drank it anyway, and shoved the bottle back into the depths where it belonged before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

When she returned and opened her mouth, nothing could have prepared me for the speech that was about to follow. It was a combination of what she was saying, and how much. Normally I wasn't a person to complain about quality and quantity working together, but in this case, it felt like I was being verbally hit by a fucking train. One, I hated the way she talked to me like she was my fucking mother. And maybe it wasn't her tone, maybe it wasn't what she was saying, maybe it was just her. I felt I was being fucking lectured.

And yeah, some of the things she said make sense, one in particular I wanted to tell her I agreed with, but couldn't without making myself into a fucking liar. Not telling her about Peyton was a mistake, probably. And I wasn't lying when I said I really thought she was going to come back, because I did. But I never told people anything unless shit was already hitting the fan. I had my reasons for why I was like that, but I could admit maybe there were some downfalls to that personality trait too.

I let her finish, I let her get everything out on the table, holding my head high the entire time even though I felt I was fucking shrinking. I don't trust you. I blurted out at the end of her speech. Or what I assumed was the end anyway. But that's nothing to be offended over. That's nothing to make a big deal over. I don't trust anyone. So I don't see why that'd be such a big damn deal. It's not exactly uncommon for people to feel that way. In fact, the only thing I trusted about you, the only reason you know anything about this Supremacy Lilith freak show, is because you're our newest recruit. Maybe that stings, maybe it doesn't, but the truth is, it's only a matter of time before your opinion is swayed. It's only a matter of time before you actually do see me through the same filter everyone else does. The only thing I had going for me, was the fact that you might not have been influenced one way or another. The only thing I had going for me that night I told you everything I told you, was the fact that you might not have already developed that poisonous opinion of me yet. And that was why you heard the story, and no one else. Be offended, be hurt, or, do what I do, and take it for what it is. Trust takes more than a bandage and hot drink to be earned with me.

If honesty is what she wanted, then fine, she would get it with all of the good, bad, and the fucking ugly. And what would have happened if I overreacted and ran to you the second Peyton didn't answer her phone? What would have happened if I would have wasted both of our time and rushed to you with every damn detail, only to find out she went to Seattle for the night? For the week? For the month? Yeah, maybe I should have told you, I can admit that, but just the same, we could have wasted time assuming the worst and connecting dots where they didn't belong over Peyton's disappearance, only for her to reappear and us to realize we'd need to start over and remove her from the equation entirely. As for the Lilith bullshit, I'm not gonna start a damn blog to keep people updated on when the phantom bitch decides to appear. I've spent too much time living around her damn schedule as it is. It was probably obvious. People had a tendency to overreact when they were guilty. People had a tendency to go on the defense and the offense when they were guilty. Why couldn't I just sit there and agree? Fuck, one of my biggest problems was the fact that I actually did agree with a lot of what she said. She was the detective, not me, and she was the detective for a reason. She fucking clearly knew best, and I didn't mean that sarcastically either. And here I was digging myself in a hole, the kind only a detective could see through, and it was fucking stupid how obvious it was that I was pulling up excuses and counter arguments out of my ass. Even I could fucking see it.

There was more I wanted to say, especially considering she had her chance to say everything she wanted to say and she started it off by saying she didn't want to fight. Well, I had a few opinions of my own, I had a few more things I could have shared in response. Her scared comment in particular was weighing on my nerves. So, it was either some fucked up problem that I wasn't scared, or I was just lying. Apparently those were the only two options I had, because it was so damn unbelievable that I could be fearless in all of this and not be some mental whack job at the same time? According to her, that was the case. If you think it was wasted time, then fine, you're entitled to feel that way. But just because I haven't had an episode, doesn't mean she's gone for good. In fact, considering it's literally impossible for me fucking die, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, I'd assume it has something to do with her. But it doesn't matter, because she wasn't our deal anyway. Our deal was to work together to get the Supremacy off my back, and yeah, maybe I believe we have a higher chance of failing than succeeding, but that was what we agreed to.

What she said next made me feel bad, but then it just made me angry. Why should I feel bad over the fact that we weren't besties braiding eachothers hair and giggling over how great the spice girls album is? I never wanted that burden. I never even implied I wanted us to be anything but partners. And the fucked up part was I still felt guilty. Yeah, I could relate to that feeling. That isolated feeling like you're the new kid at a new school and everyone fucking hates you and you know you're stuck with them for what feels like the rest of your life. I'd had that feeling since the beginning. But why was it my duty to be there for her? Why was that my job? I don't even know what it means to be a friend, you'd be better off finding someone else. I admitted, which was true. What the fuck did it mean? What the fuck did it require of me? I had Michelle, yeah, she was chill to hang out with, and overall a cool fucking chick, but did I consider us friends? That was a hard word to label anyone, so I avoided it all together. And while Michelle was the closest thing to a friend I'd even consider, she was also human. None of this bullshit existed with her. There was always Orion, but these days it just felt he was avoiding me, and fuck I wasn't about to chase him down to share a fucking beer.

It wasn't easy for me to switch back to work. It wasn't easy for me to just go back to focusing on our problem and pretend she didn't just say all of the shit she did. And if I did, all of that would hang over my fucking head for the rest of the night and I wouldn't be able to focus. Fine, whatever. I don't give a fuck how we do it let's just solve the problem and be done with it. And if I'm honest with you, I feel like you just steamrolled me with a fuck load of shit I feel obligated to talk about, and I don't know if I can fucking focus until we clear the air. It was true, I had a fucking knot in my stomach, like me admitting I didn't trust her and making it obvious I didn't consider us friends would result in her doing something fucked up, like running off to blab about this to any wolf that will listen in order to gain their friendship and betray me at the same time. I didn't fucking know, but I did know, things just became significantly less comfortable in my world, and I needed to iron out the kinks before we even took step outside.

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Re: [Private] Time to Kill

Rohana Khan | Wolf; Spiritual Leader

Posted on Fri Nov 20, 2015 3:31 pm

Maybe most people would have felt a sense of achievement over being right. With me, I never felt it. Perhaps it was the experiences that I'd had in being right that ruined the feeling for me. Being right about a husband killing his wife hardly merited it, instead it bought a cold, sick feeling to my gut. The most I could feel was achievement for solving the case, for putting the bad guy away, but it still felt tainted with the most twisted cases. Over the years and different precincts I'd learned not to let it affect me so much, but I'd never feel achievement over it. This was one of those times, when it was worse to be right than not, but it wasn't as if I hadn't been expecting it, at least.

I perked up a little at the reason he'd confided in me though, again surprised. I never just expected you to trust me. But actually, you choosing to tell me because I was unbiased... It hinted at a little trust, or perhaps not trust, but not distrust either. And not being distrusted amidst a pack of wolves who treated Onyx like they did definitely felt like an achievement. that makes me feel better than just thinking it was because you had no out. And for the record, I bandage up and give hot drinks to those arrested or incarcerated. I don't expect people to trust me just because I help them, because I'd offer help to anyone I thought needed it. That wasn't what this was about at all. I'm not expecting your trust in return for my help. I clarified. I felt he needed to know that whether he trusted me or not, my help was going to be there. And I didn't just trust you because I wanted your help, either.

But however achieved I felt one second didn't stop me feeling irritated the next, and more deeply hurt. There were many things I personally took pride in, but none more so than my job. You want to know what I'd have done? Simple. I replied, my tone clipped, my eyes narrowed, As soon as you'd told me you suspected Peyton was missing, I'd have applied to get access to her bank account, her phones and her computer, to monitor her activity to see if she really was missing, and most likely have gotten that information within a few days. No rushing about, no wasted time, no assuming the worst. I'm a cop Vincent, this i what I do. This is my job, and I'm damn good at it. So, don't trust me with personal information if you want, but when it comes to my job, just fucking trust me, okay?! I gritted my teeth and looked away, letting out a sigh and already regretting losing my temper. I'm good at my job. I reiterated gently, looking up at him. Whether Peyton was a co-worker or not, his inability to let it go, his inability to admit that she might have been missing, I knew that. But, I'm sorry. It's easy for me to say this when it comes to something distant, something un-personal, but I understand when it's someone you know, even a.. co-worker, it can be difficult to make that judgement. I'm just mad because I did the same thing and it probably makes me a huge hypocrite. I'm a cop, I'm a good cop, but I was so wrapped up in my cases that when something happened to my friend, I wasn't there and by the time I figured something could be done about it, it was too late. I felt my eyes well up and looked down, wiping at my eyelashes and frowning when I could see my makeup had smudged off on my finger, and probably across my face as well. I'm mad at you for not telling me, but I'm mad at myself too because I should have known better. If I'd noticed Sam was gone sooner and something was wrong, maybe we wouldn't even have to be going over this right now, maybe Peyton or any of those other wolves wouldn't even be missing or.... I said, bowing my head as the guilt washed over me again, sniffing against the tides of emotion. The guilt I felt over letting Sam down, letting down the victims, the families of the victims.. and also Vincent.

I went with the subject change to give my nerves a break. I only had to picture Sam's face at times and it made me want to cry and that was not what I needed. It was one of the reasons I'd been finding our problems so draining to deal with. I'm not asking you to keep a blog, Vincent, I'm just asking you to tell me. I don't care about Lilith either but I care about what it does to you. No just physically but.. mentally, emotionally. I worry about you. I have no idea what it must be like - but I want to help. And I didn't make a deal, not like that. I didn't see it as a deal at all, but if that's how you see it, then okay. But to me, that 'deal' wasn't just about the Supremacy. I said I'd help you, as simple as that. Help. Help with anything you need. That covers the Supremacy, Lilith, anything and everything in between. Sorry, but you're not going to get rid of me that easy. I raised my eyebrows at him, still smiling tiredly. before growing more sincere, I'm not leaving. When thinking about my 'suggestion' though, I began worrying at my lip and picking at the ends of my hair. If you think it will still help... I don't know if it would work, I don't even know all the ins and outs - its just an idea - but I thought even just an idea could potentially help. I glanced to Onyx, nervous and judging his expression, judging if I should tell him. I was confident when it came to my own areas of expertise but with wolves and their history, and the magic and vampires, so much still went over my head and I was legitimately worried my idea might obviously be ridiculous but I just couldn't see it.

I smiled, then laughed sadly. You probably just dodged a bullet. My last friend's currently crazy and wanted wanted for murder and god knows what else, so... I stopped, my smile fading. Even after the months of knowing that possibility, it didn't make it any easier to think about. It didn't make it any easier to avoid getting upset, either, and I sniffed, glancing away and stupidly wishing away tears again. It made me feel unbelievably like a monster, but sometimes I thought that Sam's death would be the only way to get rid of all the emotion, the only resolution to the limbo I'd been caught in. Vincent and I had so much on both of our plates it surprised me that we weren't literally at each others throats. Even though he'd let me down, it made me appreciate the ways that he had relied on me, or come to me. Even though it was months late, it was still me he'd told Peyton about, even if I had to ask. Maybe you're not a friend, but you've been an okay not-friend so far. I smiled tiredly at Vincent.

What Vincent said was a lot to take in and I suddenly realised how much what I had said must have been for him to take in too. I nodded when he was finished, letting the corner of the map I'd been holding drop. I walked back round the coffee table and sat down next to him. Sorry. Maybe it's selfish for me to not give you a chance to steamroller me in return, but I didn't think you'd have much to say. I admitted, if a little bitterly. Onyx was just such a hard nut to crack, even for me. One second he was saying we weren't friends and was putting up emotional blocks, the next he was basically demanding to talk about it. Such a feat from Vincent wasn't going to be overlooked by me though, and I did my best to appear meek. This was Vincent, wanting to talk. He struck me as a person who avoided that at all costs if he could. You don't need to feel obligated to talk, but.. okay. I nodded, looking to him to talk about whatever he was comfortable with. Do you want me to get you a drink this time? I joked, my hair falling off my shoulder as I tilted my head to the side and attempted a smile.

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Re: [Private] Time to Kill

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Fri Nov 20, 2015 4:36 pm

Just as what I said made her feel better, what she said made me feel better. Unless there was sarcasm in there that I didn't detect, but I had no choice but to assume she was being honest. While I didn't understand her ''save the world one hot drink at a time'' mentality, it was easier to swallow than me being some special case she wanted to help for whatever reason. I guess, knowing she'd help anyone helped me get rid of that weird feeling I'd felt since that night we talked. That feeling that I was such a pathetic piece of shit that she just had to help me out of the goodness of her heart. For once, I was cool with being lumped up with the criminals. No special treatment.

As much as I wanted to demand she show some respect when she spoke up again, I did something completely different, I nearly fucking smiled. Thing was, as much as I told people to show me fucking respect, anger is something I could deal with. It was something I could respond to. It was my language, and I spoke it fucking fluently. In fact, the only time I ever thought we could be friends, the only time when she didn't make me uncomfortable, the only time when I thought I could actually like her was when she got pissed at me, and showed it. Yeah she was condescending as fuck, and had a way of pushing buttons no one else could reach, but at least I could respond to what she was saying. At least it didn't make me feel awkward and out of fucking place.

Okay, I'll give you that. It is your job, and maybe you do know better when it comes to that shit. But fuck, it was one mistake. You gonna grill my ass over one mistake all night or can we just accept it was a fuck up and move on? Frankly, I don't believe it's connected to your investigation. There are people out there, and I'm not just talking about your friend, I'm not just talking about The fucking Supremacy or coven, I'm talking about other people. Outside of all of this, people that aren't even remotely involved that would want her out of the picture for a fuck load of reasons. If I'm completely honest with you, maybe a part of me didn't want to tell you sooner so I wouldn't have to give you the fucking details about who or why, or more likely, so I wouldn't be forced to lie to you to keep who and why a damn secret. And there it was, I'd already said too much. I didn't start speaking with intention of getting angry, fuck I didn't even feel that angry when I started speaking, but I increasingly grew angry the more I kept talking. And fuck, it worked against me. I just groaned and rubbed my temples, trying to mentally prepare for whatever would come next.

I looked at her when she admitted to something I'd already been thinking. She was being a fucking hypocrite. I still wanted to throw it in her face, and I was going to until I watched her wipe her eyes and fuck... Jesus fucking Christ don't do that. I glared at nothing and just awkwardly shifted in my seat. Maybe it was a trick, something all women knew and used. Maybe it didn't work on some dudes, but, as much as I really fucking hated to admit it, it worked on me. Using emotions to shut me down was highly fucking effective. I even knew it was, yet it still fucking worked. It was the sniffling, the smudged makeup, all of it made it blatantly fucking obvious that she was doing exactly what she said she wouldn't do, and I didn't know how to make it fucking stop.

First, I need you to not... Do that. And more importantly, you're right. Is that what you wanted to fucking hear? You're right. I should have fucking told you, and no doubt I'll make the same mistake again. I don't know how to contact you... I mean I know how to use a phone, and I know how to knock on a fucking door, but I don't know how to talk to you. You have to fucking understand, I've dealt with all of this shit on my own, maybe not effectively, but I've tried since day one, and it's only ever been me. I'm not used to checking in with someone when I get a piece of fucking information. I'm not used to talking about any of it. And I know your friend is a huge piece of our shit puzzle, but still, it's my default to keep it inside, and deal with it on my fucking own. So you're gonna have to give me a break and cut me some fucking slack. There I'd said it. And yeah, Olympia knew a little bit about what was going on, and Peyton knew a little bit more, but it was different talking about it with them, and even then, they didn't know everything. And they sure as fuck didn't have any solutions or any idea of where to look for them. It was just fucking different, and I couldn't explain why.

As she went on about emotions and whatever the fuck else, I just tensed up. Here she was talking about caring, and helping, and not just helping with the bullshit, but helping in other ways and fuck in any other situation I would have assumed she meant something sexual but I knew better. I just didn't get it. I couldn't believe her. No one fucking thought like that. No one went out of their own way to help someone else. People had their own shit to deal with. That just wasn't how the fucking world worked. And I knew it all along. I was helping her, and she was helping me. That was the deal. That was why it was a deal to begin with. Because we were both getting something out of it. But I just wasn't buying this other bullshit. She didn't care, simply because no one did. That was just how the world worked. You care about your own, your family and maybe if people have them, your close friends, and that's it.

I'm fine physically. I'm fine emotionally. I'm fine mentally. - Which is a problem in itself. I muttered after and stared at the build up of water on the outside of my soda can, mainly to avoid that smile on her face and the way our conversation had gone from angry to some touching fucking moment that I couldn't deal with. But I finally managed to look at her, without hope, but with willingness. What is it? So she had an idea, great. Anything to get me out of this touchy feely bullshit that frankly, didn't feel genuine. Though I wasn't sure sincerity would have made it any easier to deal with.

I'm fucking sorry. I blurted out. Which I wanted to knock myself out for, because I'd wanted nothing but for the touchy feely shit to end, and here I was prolonging it. But, I had to say it. I had to get it over with. I had to rip the bandaid off. I don't imagine it's easy... For you I mean. Working on a case both as human, and wolf, and knowing your friend is the cause of this shit. I mean- I guess it's probably not... It's just not easy. I get it. I mean I don't because it's not me, but I can, uh, sympathize. I wasn't drunk enough for this.

Don't do that. My brows curled upward, I probably looked a combination of confused and angry, which really, was fucking accurate as hell. Don't- Don't tell me I'm an okay not-friend. Just... I groaned with no idea of how to even finish what I was saying without being offensive. Why the hell did she need to make shit so damn awkward? Fuck maybe it was my fault for telling her I could sympathize. I fucking dug myself into a hole here and now I was bitching about not having a way out when I was the dumb fuck that jumped in. And no. I don't want to talk. Just forget it. It doesn't matter.

Let's just go?

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Re: [Private] Time to Kill

Rohana Khan | Wolf; Spiritual Leader

Posted on Sat Nov 21, 2015 12:43 pm

I raised one eyebrow, unamused. Not maybe. I sniffed, looking down to my nails and then back up to Vincent, taking my time. And not all night... I smirked slightly, then clasped my hands together and looked at him, No, I'm not going to grill you. My pointing this out wasn't to show how much you messed up, or to make you feel guilty.  That would just be cruel. It might be pointlessly optimistic of me but I'm actually  hoping it'll make you think twice about doing it again in future, is all.  And I'm not going to force you to tell me about that other option either. It seems private and I'll trust your judgement that its separate from our other problems. People have enemies and that could easily be a reason for her disappearance. But as for whether it is connected to the investigation, I don't want to jump to any conclusions at this point. I'm just looking at it that Peyton's disappearance could be involved with either of our problems or something else entirely. My eyes darted up and narrowed slightly, my tone changing from the conversation amble it had been. But, if you do at some point want me to look for her - then you'll have to tell me more about the people you speak about, and I hope you understand that. Until that moment I'm just going to treat Peyton as another wolf that's missing and focus my efforts on Sam and preventing any more attacks. I can tie up loose ends and see what missing persons may not have been connected to him when he isn't on the loose. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear. I gave a little shrug, my mouth skewing apologetically. I can still check her activity if you want, set it up so we're alerted if any of her accounts are used?

I knew emotions made Vincent feel awkward, that much was obvious and made me cut him some slack, but the way he basically ordered me not to cry struck a nerve. I listened to him with an unimpressed expression, it slowly fading as he continued and in Vincent terms, opened up. I think we're both in a really emotionally draining place right now, so I'm going to forgive you for telling me not to cry. But Vincent, please just don't say that to anyone else, it's horrible. The worst thing to be told when you're really upset and crying, is not to. If I was another female your head might have been ripped off by now. I sighed after getting that nugget of advice off my chest, wondering how he hadn't already had his head figuratively ripped off by someone else already, and gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. I know it makes you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry for that, but there's nothing wrong with feeling sad. Maybe there's a time and a place, sure, but like I said, where we both are right now.. I figure we're both allowed a little slack? I glanced up to him, I'm trying to understand about you too. I know you don't cope too well with emotions, or letting people in. But that's exactly why I worry about you. Everyone has emotions, whether they choose to show them or not, and bottling them all up inside... I slowly reached out and let my finger rest on Vincent's chest, They have to come out some time. I'm not expecting you to suddenly share everything, but I can't force myself not to worry either about how it's affecting you. At least if it ever does get intense then know you've got the option of going to someone else. Either way, I understand. You need time, and you're not used to some things. But the fact is you're not dealing with it on your own any more, Vin. I moved my hand to his shoulder and gave it just a slight squeeze before removing it, even though really I wanted to give him a hug - not just for him, but for myself too. Even if it might take you a while to process that, even if you try and push me away. Sometimes it feels like you don't believe me when I say I want to help, or even that you want me to be disappointed in you, that you want me to dislike you, or leave, but that isn't going to happen. I don't care what you want when it comes to that. I'm helping, and maybe it's not completely altruistic because I enjoy helping and solving things, that's who I am. So anything you say isn't going to make me change my mind and turn my back on this and it's about time you just realised that already. I wasn't joking when I said you weren't going to get rid of me that easy. I'll help in any way I see might be needed, whether you think you want it or not. This isn't me throwing a pity party, or trying to make you out to be weak, so stop acting like that's what I'm trying to do and just see my help for what it is.

A problem in itself? I repeated, giving Vincent a chance to open up, even if he might not take it. It also meant my unease over sharing my idea was delayed a little. I knew I'd have to say something eventually thought and it was time I sucked it up and did so. I could have got this completely wrong, but I thought that as Lilith's a spirit, isn't it possible that a witch or warlock with necromancy powers might be able to help? Maybe it's something you've already tried for all I know, and I understand witch and wolf relations aren't great, but I thought maybe it might be worth a try if you haven't already? Even if it's not possible to get rid of her from your body that way.. maybe you could have some more control back, or.. anything, really...

I went quiet, this silence altogether different to my earlier one. I smiled, though for once it felt awkward, and nodded. Thank you... it isn't easy, you're right. But I don't want pity any more than you do. Maybe that's what I've badly been trying to say. Neither of us have it easy. Sitting round feeling sorry for ourselves feels incredibly stupid and isn't helpful, but pretending this isn't difficult can't help either. I feel useless so I've just been trying to do something that'll make it easier somehow, but I feel like I've let you down because we're not making much progress. But, thank you for trying to understand. I understand that must be hard for you. I gave him a more genuine smile this time.

It soon morphed into a laugh. Ridiculous wasn't a word I'd use to describe many people but it perfectly fit Onyx in that moment. Well, I just did and I'm not taking it back, so you can stop complaining and learn to deal with it. My lips pursed as I tried to keep a smile behind them and I shook my head. Have you ever realised you say 'don't' a lot? I risked it, cheeky but my words pointed. Honestly, he'd have sounded like a crazed dictator if I hadn't known him better. The truth was it seemed Vincent just couldn't handle emotions, or niceness, or much, really. My eyes narrowed and I stared at him, the silence growing cold again and eyes sad. Just a minute ago you were saying we couldn't just go because you had to talk things through. What's changed in a few minutes? Vincent, I'm not thrilled about going into the woods to seek out a killer with you if there's something you obviously want to say first. Whatever it is seems like something that might matter. I know, you're not an open person and I'm trying to understand that, but.. what's the worst that could happen from opening up a little to me?

I shrugged, not hiding I was a little disappointed. If you can honestly, without a doubt, tell me in complete truth that it really doesn't matter, then yeah, okay. Let's go. I sat so I was facing him, leaning an arm on the back of the couch and watching him, not intensely, but openly, my body relaxed and face open. It was his decision if he wanted to open up and I wasn't expecting it, but I could still try and give him the best conditions for it. But before we do go, do you have a bag I can take with me? Preferably a waterproof one. I could flash home and get one but I'd like to save my energy, just in case.. I asked.

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Re: [Private] Time to Kill

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Sun Nov 22, 2015 1:20 am

I didn't remember her being so... I don't know, talkative? She reminded me of Jackie in that seventies show. Only a lot less self centered. But really, that was who she reminded me of, and it had a lot to do with how much she was going on and on. And fuck, she could be so hot if I could just put her on mute sometimes. Or most of the time. It wasn't that I didn't care to listen, it was just so much of what she said felt like a damn punishment. A lecture. Condescending even. And maybe it wasn't her intention, but the one thing I hated most was feeling like I was being talked to like I was a damn child. And that was how I fucking felt.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, listening, but not at the same time. I heard the important shit, but tried my best to tune out the shit that made me feel small. Clearly she was upset that I told her to stop crying, and fuck, finally maybe she'd get it. How she felt when I told her to stop, was exactly how I felt whenever she started. Just fucking angry and uncomfortable. I knew she was a woman, but I just needed her to man up and save that shit for alone time. Or at least save it for when I knew her better, when I knew how to handle it. It wasn't everyday someone you barely knew started fucking crying in front of you, and yeah she had a good reason to, but it didn't make it any fucking easier to deal with, I didn't know how to comfort her for fucks sake.

It just kept getting worse too, and everything she was saying was so fucking awkward I almost wanted to demand she cry again just so it could end. I could feel myself getting increasingly angry, and a lot of that had to do with how uncomfortable this conversation was, but other things factored into it too. No, I don't want you to fucking look for her- I mean. FUCK, I don't know what I fucking want! That was one of the reasons why I called her here, wasn't it? To bring up the Peyton situation? So why the fuck was I beginning to wish I would have lied and pretended she was on fucking vacation? She's probably fucking dead, there's nothing that can be fucking done! Fuck, I was the one that fucking said it yet I was so fucking pissed at myself for saying it my eyes started glowing and claws were cutting into the palms of my balled up fists. And I couldn't shut either off.

I shot up, my head was fucking aching and my hands were fucking aching and I was pissed because I didn't know if I was fucking bleeding and I didn't want her to see if I was and that made me even more fucking pissed. No, I don't have fucking emotions. No, I'm not sad, I'm not angry, there's nothing to fucking worry about when it comes to me, and no, I don't want to fucking talk. No, I don't need to let anyone ''in'' whatever the fuck that means. And even if any of this was fucking true, I think it's my call, if I want to ''bottle shit'' then I'll fucking bottle it. Not that there's anything to fucking bottle to begin with. And for the record, maybe I like dealing with shit alone. I don't want to be worried about, I don't need to be your ''project'' to fix when you're feeling the urge to ''help someone''. Maybe you need to take a long hard look in the mirror because I'm not the only one that's fucking broken here. I may be fucked up, but so are you. Why the fuck do you even care so much? I'm helping you, you're getting your win out of this shit, so why the fuck even bother? Just let shit be and stop digging! Fuck! I spat, getting even more angry again because so much of what I said contradicted things I'd said or done in the past.

I took in a deep breath and tried to get rid of the tension in my brows and calm down. Bottom line, I was fucking worried about someone I wasn't even allowed to be worried about. There, I'd fucking admitted it to myself, and I didn't feel even an ounce better about it. So why the fuck would admitting it to her, and sharing my feelings be any different? And really, that was just the tip of the iceberg. I was so fucking done with Lilith. I was so fucking done with The Supremacy. I was so fucking done with vampire and witches and lone wolves tearing up my goddamned territory and crying and feelings and being stalked and EVERYTHING. This was exactly what lead to that fucking night when I discovered I was apparently invincible man. This kind of shit only made me wish it'd worked even more. I was fucking done with all of it.

That was when it all hit me. I'd started out by telling her I didn't have emotions, and here I was blowing my top over... What? What was it exactly that sent me over the edge? Why did I have a feeling she didn't deserve the way I'd just acted? Maybe I was just a ticking time bomb, all of the fucking time. I'd told her to stop crying when she was talking about her friend that was probably going to have to be put down like some wild animal. I'd just flipped my shit over her being nice... Fuck I'd never had guilt hit me so hard and so fast before. It was like a light switch, I'd gone from pure rage to to guilt in a blink of an eye.

I held my hand over my mouth and my eyes widened as I sat down on the coffee table in front of her. Fuck... was all I could mutter after my hands slid up from my mouth to cover my entire face, each elbow propped up on my knees. My head slid up and hands slid back down over my mouth before my fingers laced together below my chin. I'm sorry, I'm just- Tired. - I mean that's an excuse... I quickly realized, and fucking admitted it. I felt light headed, and maybe that was my bodies way of coping with the fact that I felt like the kid that forgot his line at the play and started crying on stage in front of everyone.

If you want me to be honest with you, then fine. You're a lot to take in. I don't understand you. I don't know how to talk to you or look at your, or- You're just different. And I don't mean that as a bad thing... Or a good thing... I just mean, you're different, that's all. You come in here making me feel like some kind of fucking moron that doesn't know what is going on, that has done nothing but fuck up your investigation, when really you know this is more than just your typical investigation, which I'll admit, I'd be no help if it was. It's the fact that this shit is supernatural that makes me useful. But then you start talking about caring and emotions and I don't know how to respond to that, and it just pisses me the fuck off if I'm completely honest. This is probably going to sound fucked up, but I do better when people don't care about me, when people don't want to help. It's what I know, and that's not a complaint, that's not some cry for help or sympathy, it's just the truth. And I'm not asking you to change how you feel but you can at least pretend you don't give a shit. I don't need you to help me now anyway, I need you to focus on your friend, and that's it. We can deal with my shit later, it'll still be there, trust me.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fuck everything up. I'm sorry about Peyton, and losing my temper, and vampires and I'm so sorry about your friend and not being the friend you wanted me to be and being a thorn in your ass and fucking useless. I'm sorry for ever even telling you about The Supremacy and sharing the burden so willingly. I'm sorry any of this had to happen, and you've been working so fucking hard, I mean- I stood up to look down at the map, Look at this, look how fucking amazing and productive this is, and what the fuck have I accomplished? Getting drunk and attempting to permanently leave you with all of this to work through on your own? That's not fucking fair, that's not fucking right. You've been nothing but nice and I don't know how to respond to that, no one has been nice to me without expecting something in return in so fucking long I don't know how to accept it. I admit it. And yeah, maybe that's really why I don't trust you. Or more realistically, why I can't trust you. I took a deep breath and tried to stop, but my mouth opened again. It just kept coming, and coming, and fuck I was finally beginning to realize she was right. Maybe I had bottled this shit up, maybe I had kept it inside for too long and instead of dealing with it as it came, I waited until there was so much it all hit me at once like a fucking freight train.

I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes as I threw my head back. I'm just fucking tired. Haven't you ever been so damn tired you just want to close your eyes and you couldn't give a fuck if you never wake up again? I was almost positive that night we talked about everything. I felt like we were making progress. But Peyton's disappearance and this feeling in my gut that fangers were involved with her friend in the woods just made me feel guilty. These things were my fucking fault. I was the one that connected us and our kind to fangers. It was my fault. All of it. Peyton was possibly dead, wolves were being murdered, people, innocent fucking humans were being slaughtered, and here she was, broken up over it but still pushing on while I was looking for the easy out. I was a fucking piece of shit, and always would be.

I'll get you your bag, but I need air. In a small way, I was thankful that I'd waited for her to mention the bag before losing my damn temper, and then going off about god knows what after. At least talking about the bag helped me focus on something else. And we can talk about the other shit after. And then I want to find him. For you, so we can end this- Alliance, whatever you wanna call it. I muttered before getting up from my seat and heading out back to have a smoke. But I made sure to stop off in the kitchen for some liquid courage, because if there was ever a time I needed it, now was it.

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