Sincerely, Temptation

Weak-Willed and Beastly

10-26-13

-Updated! :)

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Sitting up in my bed, I stretch out my arms. The hard bed squeaks under my weight. I really need a new damn bed.

Gentle light streams in from the bedside window, giving the room a warm appeal. It must be evening. I slept through the entire day. Turning to check the digital clock, I mutter at the stiffness of my shoulders.

6:32 p.m.

I turn my attention to the left shoulder, gasping at the large purple bruise on the back of my hand.

It's dark purple is a sharp contrast to my pale light skin. I scrinch up my nose and raise my other arm, prodding it sharply.

"Ouch, shit." I curse when the bruise respond with a dull jolt of pain.

Squinting, I try to recall where the ugly mark originated. Nothing. I grunt in annoyance and slump back down onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling and counting all the little craters in it's design.

"1,2,3,4....72,73,74,75.."

My breathing slows, giving me a sense of quiet tranquility. The numbers hang in the air as I breath them out. I count to help me calm down, and yes, to remember things. It gives me a chance to slow things down. It gives me a chance to breath, it's my only substitution for cutting.

Judge me all you want, it's better than drugs.

And I know all about that.

Remember my speech from earlier?

What if everything you love came together? And tempted you? And you just can't resist, but the thing is, you don't want to?

Well, I've been in that situation much more than once. The lures have baited me many times before. And more often then not, they win. It's really not even a struggle for them to take me over. I guess I'm not a very strong-willed person. Most of the time. Which is laughably ironic, considering I'm a half-girl, half-wolf, man-eating beast. Most of this stuff was before that, though. These days, I find myself second guessing every decision I make.

With a lazy moan I place my feet on the floor and stretch upwards, turning to my nightstand and leaning forward to open the first drawer.

I slide it open and pause to look over the contents. I pick up a green leather bracelet, some purple ones, an Eminem rubber bracelet and an Asking Alexandria one. I make sure to cover the scars on my wrists, sliding them all to a comfortable position.

There's really not that much of a point in cutting anymore, considering the cuts just heal overnight. But it still helps me and so I do it anyway. While in wolf form, cuts or injuries get healed almost instantly. Although they sometimes leave scars and bruises.

I turn my attention back to the ugly bruise on my arm. It must've been and awful abrasion to have left such.

I know, deep inside, that I remember the occurances of last night. I just don't want to.

I don't want to remember losing control.

I don't want to remember becoming an animal.

And I don't want to remember how close I came to harming one of the only people that I care about.

So much could have gone wrong, but it helps not to think about it. So I just take it out on myself.

What might also help is to be much more cautious during my midnight runs. I know I won't be able to fully control myself, but I must make an effort to improve my traveling methods and alertness.

This is all pointless. I'm almost certain something like that will happen again, and I'm terrified of it.

My friend must be so scared right now. She probably didn't even get any sleep. Worry for her builds up when I check my messages. I look over her message, holding my tablet firmly in between my hands.

Avery. I need you. Now.

I scoff at her calm-seeming demand. She doesn't seem to be on the verge of a heart attack.

Yes, my name is Avery. Well, it's not actually my real name. But my real name I despise therefore I go by Avery. Only my mother calls me by my real name.

I sigh dramatically. Atleast now I know she's not hospitalized. After fixing my hair, I change into a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a red hollister tee. I pull on my red and black Supra Hightops and slip on a jean jacket.

On the way out, I grab my phone off of it's charging dock and strut down the hallway. I step down the last step, ignoring my mom's giggling as she talks into the phone. Just as I reach out my hand towards the doorknob, she yells after me.

"Where are you going?" A stern voice demands.

"Out." I spit back.

"Ivory Mercy! You come here, right now."

At this point she's staring at me expectantly from the entrance of the kitchen. I roll my eyes and proceed to open the door and quickly step out, ignoring her protests. The last thing I need is to sit through another pointless lecture about making my father proud because he's still watching over me and all that crap.

I speedwalk down the porch steps and across the yard, walking to the left and down my street.

Staying close to the side of the street, I pull out my phone. Once I reach the end of the street, I turn my head to the right, then left to scan for traffic.

Phone still in my hand, I cross over to the other side of the street and walk down the end of the block and Hayden's house comes into view. It looms slightly above the other homes, baby blue in color.

The iPhone chimes and I pause to type into it, then push it back into my back pocket.

I reach the front of her house and step in front of the gate. Looking down at my phone, I cross the yard to the front door. The dogs are nowhere in sight, and the only sounds are those of cars passing and birds singing.

I stop at the entrance and lift up my hand, but pause when I hear shouting. Frowning, I recognize Hayden's voice, followed by her father's.

Maybe now's not the best time.

Just as I'm turning to leave, the door opens and a voice calls my name. I turn around to see Hayden standing outside her screen door, a curt smile on her lips.

"Hi." She ventures.

"Hi." I respond. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She shrugs off my question, peering down at her phone, which is decorated by a multicolored case.

Her carefully layered fiary red strands fall just past her shoulders. She wears a pair of skinny jeans and a white spaghetti-strap tank top. She seems completely unaffected from my threats of last night. I blink dubiously, taking in her casual demeanor.

She smiles and beckons for me to come in. I hesitate, then follow her into the house. I fall in behind her as she leads me to her room.

As we walk down the hallway, I spot a large tear in the grey carpet and raise my eyebrows, looking up at Hayden. Her back is still turned to me, paying no mind.

We reach her room and she slumps down on her bed. I stand stiffly beside it, searching her face for emotion.

"You can sit down."

She turns her head, which is resting on a unicorn Pillow Pet, to face me. I slowly sit down on the bed.

"Avery." She calls.

"Yes?" I turn to Hayden, who is resting calmly on her bed without looking at me.

"I know what you are."