I opened the backdoor of the pack house, turning, I closed the door softly, until I head the tiny click of the door as it was securely shut. I made as little noise as possible, hoping to not awaken anyone within. As I turned around, and proceeded through the kitchen I had to go through in order to get to the stairs, that led to the upper portion of the Western wing where my bedroom resided, I noticed Damien and Rachel in front of the refrigerator. The only light, coming from the tiny bulb that flickered to life every time the door opened. Illuminating the room in a soft glow. I watched as Damien held Rachel in his arms, placing a chaste kiss on her nose and then nuzzling her neck. I heard her giggle slightly and then a whisper soft moan eminated from her mouth. I sat there, staring at the spectacle in front of me, before hurriedly trying to get around them before they noticed my presence. However, I was never that lucky. I was never lucky, period. I was three steps from exiting the room, when Rachel turned and caught my movement from her peripheral vision and turned towards me.

I heard her say.

I turned my head towards their direction. Never really meeting either of their eyes directly.

I mumbled.

I heard Damien state with a touch of concern in his voice.

With that, I turned my head back in the direction of the stairs. Hoping to end the awkward and stilted conversation we were having. Hoping that my eyes never showed my pain. Hoping that the facade I lived with, was in place. I let the numbness envelope me. I could live through being numb, feeling nothing. The pain, I could not.

I stated, and proceeded to the stairs as fast as my legs could take me.

As I reached the landing to the stairs, I heard Damien tell Rachel how much he loved her and my facade cracked for a second, and a solitary tear slid down my face before my mask came back on. I heard the stairs creek under my weight as I ascended the stairs. Reaching the door to my bedroom, I opened it, walked it, and closed it. I pressed my back to the door, and rested my head against it. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath as I felt my stomach plummet and the demonic butterfly feeling came to life in me. I always felt it after I saw them. It was this slow ache within me, that I couldn't shake. My breathing would become shallow, and I would sometimes place my hand on my stomach. As if I were trying to hold my feelings inside. My slow breathing helped at times, but there were times the panic would overcome me, and I felt like I was suffocating. When those times came, I made an excuse and always ran to my safe spot in the woods. I spent hours there until the attack subsided, before making my presence known again to the pack. I would get questioned from time to time where I was, but I quickly deflected them. I plastered a smile on my face, and gave them a flippant remark. It always worked. They never had a clue. I was Leilani, always happy, always willing to help, always there. My brother, family, and pack had no clue.

I pushed off my door, and heading to my adjourning bathroom. Stripping my sweat drenched clothes off my body while doing so. I turned the water on in the shower, and as I waited for it to heat up before stepping inside, I turned towards the mirror above my sink. I looked at my torso, and saw the evidence of the pain that had been inflicted on me a little less than an hour ago. Deep purple bruises criss-crossed from my upper chest. down to my upper thighs. When I first started experiencing the pain, the bruises would heal within a few hours, leaving my skin free of blemishes. But as days turned into months, and months turned into years, my wolf had weakened. And the bruises that should have been healed long before, began staying for longer and longer periods of time. Now, it took days for the bruises to heal from my body instead of hours. Soon I knew they would be permanent reminders of the future I had lost, and the one forced upon me.

I said to my reflection.

As the bruising began, I had began hiding myself under layers of clothing, and stopped shifting in front of others. I didn't need or want anyone to see them, and then ask me questions about it. Each day, I felt my wolf dying a little more, along with me in the process. Each day, I lost more weight, and each day I became more listless. Layers of foundation and clothing camouflaged my torment from the pack, and I continued to hide my secret pain from them and the rest of the world. I couldn't share it, I couldn't let them know. It was my silent death to endure alone. As much as I should have been angry at Damien, because he was the cause of it all, I could not. The mate bond I had for him, wanted him happy, wanted him to be loved, even if it was not with me. So as I died inside, I also rejoiced at his happiness. It was a sadist theory for me, but one that I believed in to get me through it all. I was happy, as long as he happy. He would never know the reticent agony I withstood day after day, being his mate. Well for as long as I lived, that is.

At first, I didn't know what would cause the debilitating misery I experienced that caused the bruising on me. It wasn't until one day at school, before I graduated, that I had been doing research for my Senior project, that I had stumbled on the answer to all my questions, and my mysterious illness.

I had been in the library with stacks and stacks of books about Lycan history. Hoping to find what I needed, I had come across a book in a long forgotten corner in the basement. Its dark forest green binding with gold lettering faded and worn from time. I ran a lone finger down its binding over the title, 'The Lycan Mating Process' it read. Although it had nothing to do with the research I was conducting, I couldn't help my curiosity, and I quickly removed it from its habitat of unknown years. I cradled it to my chest, and headed to the desk that I had been using while there. I sat down, opened the book and began reading it. As I came to the rejection section of the book, my interests piqued. At this point, it had been a year since Damien had walked away from me. No one in my pack had rejected a mate before, I was the first. Although, he had never formally rejected me, he had never accepted me either. So I had questions I could never voice. No one with the answers I craved. But this book, this book had the answers I needed and wanted in it.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back time and have never found that book, or the answers I thought I wanted. I could have remained naive in my knowledge, instead of knowing exactly what cruel fate lay before me. I wouldn't know I had a time limit on my sanity. But that was neither here nor there, for I knew what was destined for me as I remembered the words I read.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'The mating bond in which the Moon Goddess bestows upon two wolves is sacred and must be cherished. Mates were created by her, to be two parts of a whole and should not be taken lightly. In the event a mate should be rejected, or a mating bond is completed with a wolf whom is not the Moon Goddess' chosen mate for that particular Lycan, the Lycan that has been set aside for another and/or rejected will experience great hardships. Sometimes resulting in their death by their own hands. If death does not occur, he or she will become mentally unhinged and lose themselves and become one of the Fallen. A Fallen is a rogue wolf with zero empathy, and has lost its humanity, forever in the enthrall of the dark. He or she will become a slave to their murderous thoughts and become an Angel of Death.

The rejected Lycan will begin to experience great physical pain during any intimate encounters his or her mate with another. As time passes, and the encounters continue to occur, the rejected mate's health will begin to deteriorate and their internal injuries will intensify in strength. If enough time passes, the rejected mate's wolf will weaken from prolonged subjection to pain, that their healing capacity will greatly diminish until it is completely ineffective in healing them. When the bruising begins to last for days, instead of a few minutes or hours, the rejected mate has only a few months left to live, or become a Fallen.

The only known cure for the ailments of a rejected mate, is for his or her destined mate to accept the Moon Goddess' decision and fully mate with the once rejected mate before one becomes Fallen. However, even if acceptance does finally occur, the once rejected mate may still experience physical hardships for years to come. However, if a rejected Lycan has already become Fallen, there is no known cure. There is absolutely no coming back from the dark for a Fallen. The only way in which a Lycan does not become a Fallen, is through death.'

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The book had given me the answers, and the solutions to my problems. I had only three options, death, insanity, or acceptance. I thought knowing he would never accept me over Rachel, knowing he had chosen his love for her over the love of his destined mate was the greatest sorrow I would feel. But nothing compared to the sorrow of knowing my time was limited. I wouldn't allow myself to become a Fallen, hurting those that I loved the most, and Damien would never accept me. So that left me the only option I had, death. I wouldn't live past my 21st birthday. I would never have the joy of bring pups into the world, and see them have pups of their own. I had accepted my future with logical precision. Never wavering from it.

Once the water had finally heated, I stepped inside the shower. With great care for my injuries, I slowly and lightly began lathering my body. Cleaning away the salt from the long ago dried sweat from my body. My touch becoming feather light on the areas of my body that were most tender and bruised. After finishing up, I stepped out of the shower, not even waiting for some of the excess water to drain off of me. Causing a large pool of water to gather at my feet. I begin to shiver, as the last of the warmth of the water evaporated, leaving me chilled. I turned towards the towel bar, and grabbed the yellow terry cloth towel off it, and wrapping myself. I took one last glance at myself in the semi-fogged mirror, before padding into my room. I reached into the top drawer of my dresser, in search for something to wear as I slept. As soon as I opened the drawer, my hand came into contact with the only item that I owned that connected me to Damien. Lifting the heavily faded grey Rolling Stones t-shirt that had once been black, out of the drawer, I pressed it to my nose. Hoping to smell the wood and pine smell it had once held, but knowing it had been long since Damien's scent had disappeared. It was a souvenir I had kept from a time when he brought me happiness as a child.

I donned his t-shirt with my underwear, forgoing a bra. I raised my comforter with my hand, and slide into the cool sheets of my bed. I let out a low sigh, hoping that I would find oblivion in sleep. But as I said before, I was never that lucky. Right as sleep was about to conquer my consciousness, I felt the stirring of a burning sensation I was all to familiar with begin deep within my abdomen. I knew what was coming next as I forced a piece of my sheet into my mouth and clenched my teeth down. Stifling my own scream, and muting myself as I silently scream in agony as pain shot through my body so intensely that I found oblivion in the form of losing consciousness at the peak of the inferno.