I love him; I do. So much that it hurts. So much that it scares me. I just can't help but think sometimes what my life would have been like, if I had loved him less.

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You know who I am and what I've done. I know what you're thinking about me. Don't pretend like you're not. It's nothing that I haven't thought about myself. But it wasn't supposed to happen like this, I swear.

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I was just there for a visit.

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People say Forks is a hick town. Where I come from—Neah Bay—Forks is a bustling metropolis. Not only do I know all my neighbors, I also know what they ate for breakfast this morning and whether or not they brushed their teeth after. The Bay is that small. The place was closing in on me and I needed a change of scenery, so I drove down to see my aunty and cousin.

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Some days I curse myself for coming here instead of just driving around aimlessly, like I usually do when I get a bit stir crazy. I was tired of having only the trees and sea for comfort. I needed more. I thought La Push—and Leah—would cure me of my restlessness. Hindsight can bite me.

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She had told me about him over the phone, when we could still talk like sisters. She'd never been so hopelessly in love before, and she couldn't talk about anyone, or anything, else. I remember thinking that it was cute but also that she was too young to be talking about her forever. She was only sixteen then. I hoped he wouldn't break her heart.

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I never thought I'd be the one who to help him do it.

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When I first saw him, it was like my whole world narrowed itself down to just him. It didn't matter that I was planning to go to college, that he wasn't my type, that my cousin was in love with him, that I knew better.

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I tried to leave, to ignore his increasingly frantic phone calls and unexpected visits, the desperate gifts. I knew what it would do to her, and I swore to myself that I couldn't do that to my cousin-sister, my best friend.

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I was wrong.

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I could and I did.

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I should be ashamed of myself, but every time he touches me, nothing else matters. Not her, not my family, not my life, just him and our skin setting off sparks.

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I avoided him for as long as I could. I couldn't deny that I was attracted to him like a magnet, but I thought that if I didn't see him, it would pass, like any other crush. He was too big, too gruff, too persistent, too, too much. I hated that I was under his thrall.

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I decided that I had to remove myself from the situation. It wasn't healthy or fair to any of us.

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The night before I was supposed to leave, I went to meet me him outside. I was planning on saying goodbye. I knew he would be there without me asking him to come.

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He had taken to hanging around the house in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of me. I didn't want to be that girl, the one who needs to be so desperately needed. While I found it aggravating, and creepy as hell, I also couldn't help but feel flattered, despite myself.

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When I told him my plans, he exploded—literally. It was too fast for me to react quickly enough and as I lifted my arm to protect my face, his paw swiped down them both. I had protected nothing, not him, not Leah, and certainly not myself.

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I barely survived.

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Later, when I woke up, the doctor told me how lucky I was. If the gash had been just a little to the left, it would have nicked my artery. If I had gotten to the hospital any later, I probably would have died from blood loss. If my boyfriend hadn't been there to scare off the bear, I would have been dragged off into the woods.

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That's me.

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Lucky.

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I had this piece knocking around in my docs for a long time. It's unbeta'ed, so give a holler if you see a mistake. I don't know if I'll continue it, but I've been feeling the itch to jump back on the FF wagon, more than a little lately, lord help me.