Darkness is the natural state of the universe. Everything is dark. Everything is cold. Only light can bring warmth.

“Warmth,” I growl. It warms my body. Anger. Anger can bring warmth too.

I’m starting to understand why darkness is the natural state of the universe. Although we pretend to be civil and happy, darkness lurks in our souls, in our minds. When the light leaves, it’s all that’s left. My wolf feels the same, I haven’t felt her since she rejected me. A small irrational part of me believes she could have been trying to protect me, but that cant be right. Who could hurt someone like this in order to protect them? It doesn’t make sense.

The door to my bedroom creeks open and light spills onto my bed. “Alice, I told you,” I say, anger coursing through my veins, almost pleasurable in the way it could heat the torturous cold, “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not Alice,” Mother says, “We need to talk, come to the living room.”

My anger grows hotter. How could she come in here and make demands? At least Alice thought I was sick. Mother never gives me a break. The day Father died, Mother made me stand tall and serve snacks to the guests. Then after everyone left, she made me help Alice clean. That evening a single tear slid down my face at dinner. She reached over and whipped it off then muttered in a disapproving voice, “Don’t you dare cry. You hear me? You’re strong, act like it.”

With the memory fresh on my mind, I throw off my piles of blankets and march into the living room. I see mothers shock at my sudden appearance, or how rough I must look. I haven’t gotten up in two days. I smirk, good.

“Take a seat,” she says motioning to the seat across from her.

I ignore her, this won’t take long.

“Fine,” she says and waves Alice to put a small tray of food in front of me, “But you are leaving until you eat.”

I’m not hungry. Except maybe for homemade bread. No not that. Defiantly not that.

“What’s wrong?” Mother says, as if this is a pain to her.

I stand completely still. The anger is disappearing and the cold floor is making my toes numb and the food is making me dizzy. Have I really not eaten since the dance?

“Are you really going to make me drag it out of you like this?” she asks.

I look at her defiantly as I try to keep from shivering.

“I know your not sick,” she says, “Has it ever occurred to you that I might be able to fix whatever this is?”

She pauses for a minute, still waiting for my response. I don’t have one.

“Fine,” she says and her face hardens with a determined look, “This started after the dance, how about we start there? Are you upset that you didn’t find your mate?”

Why would she think that? Does she think I would get upset about something so little?

“I guess that’s not it,” she says dismissively, “I didn’t think so, but you were always so sensitive.

“I am not sensitive.” I say unable to stop myself with anger filling my veins and warming me again.

Mother looks at me with one eyebrow raised, “Is that so? Then why don’t you enlighten me as to why you spent the last two days crying in bed?”

I look to the floor trying to keep from blurting out again.

“You did find your mate, didn’t you?” Mother says.

I stiffen. Sometimes I wonder how she can read me so well.

“I seem to have struck a chord,” Mother says. I look up to see a smirk on her face, “What’s wrong? Is he so shameful you can’t bring him home?”

I feel my wolf stir, reacting to the lava like heat.

Mother continues, “Or is he unbearably ugly and you had to turn him away?”

My wolf bubbles to the surface ready to tear her throat out, “SHE TURNED ME AWAY!”

A crash interrupts my thoughts. I turn and see Alice had dropped the tea she had been bringing us. She makes no move to pick it up, instead she stares at me in shock. I turn back to Mother and see the shock on her face too.

The fight from before goes out of me and I sit heavily in the chair Mother had pointed at earlier, “Are you happy now?”