AN: I do not own the vampires or the wolf pack (though, I wish I did). Sadly, they belong to Stephanie Meyer. I don't even own Trisha, Ethan, David, Taylor, or any of the other wolf kids. They belong to yay4shanghai. She's just letting me borrow them for a little while. I do, however, own an "I Heart Jasper Hale" t-shirt.
This is a bit of a spin-off from the last chapter ("Genitalia") of yay4shanghai's A Fun and Easy Way to Go Down a Dress Size. If you haven't read it or it's accompanying story Enough With the Gravity Moving Already, you need to!
This is my first FanFiction story, so please review and be gentle!
Prologue: Sometimes Imprinting is A Bitch
This moment…this very moment…in all of my 13 years, this was the moment I had been waiting for. Just a mention of the word would send shivers down my spine and spread a smile across my face: IMPRINT. In my mind it was the ultimate happiness, a fairytale I had dreamed of. I knew it would happen eventually. I was, after all, raised by wolves, literally, and it IS part of our nature to imprint.
But this was not how it was supposed to be, this was not the way I had imagined it at all. Most importantly, HE was NOT who HE was supposed to be. Throughout my life, I had been so spellbound with the idea of imprinting, that I would beg my mom and the other imprinted women to tell me exactly what it felt like, so the moment it did happen, there would be no doubt it was the real thing. After hearing the stories, I planned in my mind what would happen after my imprint. There would be violins playing, if only in my head, and it would be at sunset, looking out over the cliffs of LaPush. I would run to my imprinter, jump in his arms, and cry tears of complete and utter happiness, as we walked off hand in hand, planning our lives together.
Instead of the bliss I had imagined, I was chasing a gaggle of wolf kids around the Uley's den, as the men argued, loudly, about whose son (or daughter) would phase next. And then HE came into the room. When our eyes met, I felt that pull, the one described to me by the many LaPush women who had felt it before me. The room silenced, except for two men, my dad and Jared, who both uttered the same word: "Shit."
After a few minutes of silence, the tears did come, but they were not tears of happiness. And instead of saying something romantic, I screamed. I felt my heart splitting into two. I fell to my knees, and I screamed. "Ethan!"