A/N: Chaper contains much angst and slight alcohol abuse. The end was scribbled right before I had to get ready for school, which I should be doing doing now. So I'll keep this sort. Enjoy.
I found a beer mug and topped it with whiskey. Yeah, it could probably kill me, but what the hell? I sucked down about half the contents, feeling it burn my mouth and throat.
I hadn't eaten that day- or the day before… or for a while, and the buzz swamped me, fuzzing my brain and numbing my senses. I managed to get to the kitchen table and find a chair. I took another swig of the burning amber liquid.
A mix of emotions seemed to taint the whiskey. Tasting like bile as it went down. Anger, depression, hate, fear, sadness… all combining like a horrible cocktail and swimming around my stomach, crawling back up my throat, forming a lump somewhere, making it hard to breathe, hard to swallow.
I got to my feet, shakily, almost tripping over my self. I made it to the counter and stood there, glaring at the floor maliciously, mostly because it was the only thing I could think to be angry at. I growled and slammed the beer mug on the hardwood floor. Not satisfied at the violent shattering glass and alcohol leaking on the floor.
"Whore!" I snarled. Possibly speaking to the Goddess. "You stupid slut-bitch! She was mine, damn you. Mine!" I howled, sinking to the ground, sobbing the words 'cunt', 'whore', bitch', and 'why', over and over, tears running in unyielding rivers down my face, trying to catch my breath and get some vestige of control over my body. The world could go to hell. The Goddess could go to hell. As if there was a Goddess. A fucking supernatural controller? Why? So we could be sheep? Serving her and praising her? Stupid slut. How long I sat there crying, hating, and cursing the Goddess I used to worship, I don't know, but eventually, I composed myself enough to get to my feet.
Ignoring the broken glass, I walked over it, barely feeling the glass cutting into my bare feet. I glared at the wall, then slammed my fist into it, feeling the offending drywall give, but not break. I drew my hand back, gazing at the crimson blood from my busted knuckles. Annoyed, I hit the wall again. This time the drywall gave, as well as the skin on my other hand. Finally somewhat satisfied, I yanked my had back and stumbled out the door, the glass shards still embedded in my feet.
I headed to the woods, the world blurring and spinning crazily. Emotions flaring over my nerves, ripping my brain to tattered little bits, burning my insides like acid. Like my stomach had been gouged open and the strong acidic juices dribbled everywhere inside me.
Still snarling curses, I gathered the magic bubbling in what blackened little thing the was left of my soul. I shoved it out, denting the trees and ripping plants to shreds. Good. Nothing deserved to be beautiful without Tori there to see it. Nothing deserved to live. Everything deserved to me as fucking miserable I was. They deserved it. They caused Tori's death. They needed to suffer, damn it! Who exactly they were, was unknown, but whoever they were, they deserved it.
Suddenly, the world black out and I collapsed into the roots of a huge oak tree.
It was one of Tori's bad days. She screamed and ripped at her light silver-inlaid bonds. She howled, the wolfen sound blaring her pain to the world. And I could only watch, sickened.
Her beautiful long silver hair was oily and dirty, sticking to her head and chalky delicate face. She whined mindlessly, writhing and shrieking. Praying to the Goddess that her spasming, emaciated body would quite. I wasn't sure how much more of this hellish nightmare that seemed unending, I could take. I was going as insane as she was, torn apart inside.
Finally she stilled, her bare chest heaving and panting. Her eyes squeezed shut, lupine teeth bared. Finally her lovely grey eyes opened. Exhaustion all but dripped from them like tears.
A trickle of blood dripped from her nose. I got up to get a tissue, "Don't you fucking touch me, Damon." She rasped. "Touch me, you're a dead man." It was true. She might ravage my arm or whatever she could reach. Wouldn't kill me. It'd hurt like hell, but it probably wouldn't kill me. But if I got her blood on me, I'd probably die the way she was now. The thought had merit.
Noting the half-crazed look in my eyes she bared her fangs. "Don't." She managed in a whisper. It was harsh and sounded painful. Probably from screaming for more than half an hour. I sighed and slumped back in the chair, watching her try to sleep a little. The cool sheath of unconsciousness was beyond me, though. So I simply sat there, watching her.
Just as she was starting to drift, a shaft of the light from the full moon cut through the window, bathing Tori's sweaty body. Her eyes snapped open and she howled like the wolf in her soul.
And the screaming started all over again.
I jerked awake, head pounding so badly I could here the blood in my veins. Blurrily, I recognized to people hovering above me. Blinking, I focused on them. Both were female werewolves. The oldest one seemed about twenty something. Her long hair was reddish brown and silky. It hung almost to her mid-back. Her eyes were chocolate brown and so deep they seemed endless. She was fairly curvy, though it didn't border on voluptuous, and her skin was porcelain pale.
The other couldn't have been older than thirteen. Her hair was more brown than red, hanging to her shoulders. Her eyes were a light amber color. And her skin was the same color as the other girl. If she had a figure, I didn't notice. I supposed they were sisters. Since the oldest didn't look like she'd ever had a baby.
"Hi." The oldest said brightly, I winced as the hangover pounded away at my skull. Her voice lowered quickly. "I'm Riley. This is my sister, Quinn." She tilted her head to the younger of the two. "Who're you?"
Head still pounding, I muttered "Damon." It was slurred, but understandable. I realized about then I was against the roots of an oak tree, my feet bandaged and sore. What the hell had happened last night?