Title: Scream Ferocity

Summary: "Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply. Those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they have now set on fire" Leah finally snaps.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. This story is produced without profit. Quote is attributed to Kurt Tucholsky.

Characters: Leah/Jacob/Ensemble

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Family

Rating: Older teen- Adult

Warnings: Dark themes. Non explicit violence, murder, sex.

Status: In Progress.

Archiving: Please PM me

Inspirations/Dedications: Dedicated to anyone who has ever had feelings.

Author's Notes: This is the edited version of this story.

The Beginning

~Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply.

Those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they have now set on fire.~

The particulars of the club she is in are not worth mentioning. It is a dive and smells of stale liquor and sweat. It offends her and there is nothing more to be said than that. She moves like fire, cutting a path all the way to the bar and smiles in the face of the patrons stares. Cartoon men with their tongues hanging out spring to mind but none of them can have her. Even if they could, they couldn't hold her.

There is a natural, predatory swing to her hips that she always, always emphasizes. It is shocking how many times they fall for it. She has been called a bombshell before. If only they knew how quickly she could go off.

Black hair, brown eyes, no skin on show. There is no need for that. Just one look in her eyes and they know she is something far greater than their fat little wives can aspire to. They will go home tonight and make love to their women, huffing and puffing and seeing her face.

And in her face is a promise that she never intends on keeping but then what does that matter? What could they really do about it anyway?

"Hey, baby."

And it starts.

"Can I-"


His breath offends her though to be fair, these days it doesn't take much. Good looking, nice dresser, charming—-she can understand why he is surprised at her outright refusal. His shoulders tense, back straightens, fists ball. Instinct. All she has to do is let a little of it slip through. The back of her eyes tingle. Her skin itches. Pheromones and chemicals shift in the air.

The human ego is no match for the beast that lives inside her.

He deflates and leaves but not before hissing "Bitch."

Well, he gets some points for that one. She is a bitch, a literal bitch with the ability to tear into him until her fur runs slick with his blood. She is a genetic freak. All fury and scorn in a predator's body. Has there ever been anything more dangerous than her?

Sometimes she feels like her anger alone could level the world.

The Creator responsible for her twisted mutation is a cruel and unmerciful one. She can't even take comfort in getting mind numbingly drunk anymore. Booze tastes like metal on her tongue. What a trade off.

She has no fate, no destiny. She is a force of nature and she is never allowed to forget it. They will not forget it either. She will not let them because she is charred and black, blazing from the inside out so no one can see the fire.

They wont.

Not until they're burning in it.