Forced To Love You

Mess

The days after getting back from North Carolina were a blur. I stayed in bed most of the time. Dragging myself out of bed to just use the bathroom every few hours was all the energy I had in me. My mind was moving about as slowly as I was and it seemed like my entire body was just... withering.

Christian checked on me every few hours. He would bring a glass of water and something to eat and set it on the bedside table. He never said anything but I could tell he wanted to.

It was hard to find the right words to say to people during a difficult time especially if you couldn't relate.

I didn't have the desire to eat. Every so often I would take a sip of the water sitting by the bed. But I didn't eat. I couldn't force myself to.

I wanted to feel better but I just couldn't see it happening quite yet. I was still dealing with all the emotions that flitted through my head. The last thing on my mind was taking care of myself. I didn't eat, I didn't shower, and I didn't even change out of my clothes. I still wore the same leggings and sweatshirt I wore when we went to North Carolina. It wasn't healthy to keep doing but I just couldn't get myself to do anything about it.

I reacted the same way when my parents died. My whole world changed in an instant and I didn't know what was going to happen to me. My house was gone, my parents were dead, and I was starting over from scratch. I didn't have money to get a new house and belongings. I was still in school and didn't have anywhere to do my homework or live outside of school. And school wasn't a place that made me feel any better. The teachers looked at me with pity and the kids around me never talked to me. I was the weird kid who just lost her parents and her home. Why would they want to have been friends with someone like that?

I felt the same way now. My aunt was gone, I couldn't go home, and I had to figure out how to live in an entirely new state. A new town full of werewolves. I knew nothing about my new environment and it overwhelmed me the same way I had felt just ten years prior.

I was on day four of not talking, not eating, and not moving from the comfort of the blankets on the bed when Christian finally had enough.

He grabbed the comforter that covered me up and stripped it back, leaving me exposed to the cold air. "Blair."

I opened my eyes just enough to glare at him. "What?"

"It's time to get up."

"It's time for you to go away."

"I mean it. Get up." His voice was stern and I didn't like it. Who the fuck was he to talk to me like that?

"Go away."

"Now, Blair."

I rolled over, hoping that he would take the hint. I wasn't done grieving. I wasn't done crying.

He knelt on the bed and shook my shoulder. "Blair, get up."

I yanked out of his grip, which wasn't very strong, and sat up. My hair was ratty and messy on my head. It desperately needed cleaned and combed through. "There. Are you happy?"

"You can't keep laying in bed. It's not going to make you feel any better."

I shot him a glare with flames in my eyes. Was he trying to hurt me? "You have no idea what I'm going through."

"I do, Blair. Better than anyone else."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop trying to help."

"Someone has to. You're not taking care of yourself. Withering away isn't going to make anything better." He didn't react to my attitude. Maybe he was expecting me to be angry with him. He had to have known what he was getting himself into.

"Leave me alone, Christian." I headed for the bathroom, knowing it was the only place I could go for a little peace and quiet.

But he was expecting it. He walked around his side of the bed and got in front of me before I could get to the door. He blocked the door from my sight entirely, using his height and size to keep me trapped where I was. It was all just to keep me in the conversation.

"Get out of my way."

"Not until you stop moping around."

I wasn't expecting him to say something so insensitive to me. Didn't he realize what I was going through? I wasn't moping around for no reason. I shoved him with a good bit of force. I wanted him to know that I was upset. That he hurt me. "Fuck you."

He took a step back as I pushed him but he stayed close to me. He wasn't letting me bully him into submission.

So I shoved him again. When that still didn't work, I hit him. I hit him dead center in the chest. I kept doing it until Christian grabbed my wrists and held my hands in place.

"Blair, stop." His words were like a brick wall forcing me to stop in my tracks. His words didn't affect me quite as much as his tone of voice. It was like it willed everything in me to stop and obey him. The red I was seeing seeped away from my vision and I felt like I was coming back to reality. I saw the reason Christian stopped me. Not because I was hurting him but because claws had appeared where my nails were supposed to be.

A gasp escaped my lips and I relaxed within Christian's hold.

"What the hell?" My words came out airy, breathless.

"If you don't calm down, you're going to shift." Christian was much calmer now. Was he used to dealing with pissed-off women?

I looked up at him, confusion clear on my face. "Shift? You mean..."

He nodded once. "When you get too angry, your wolf comes out. Unless you want to shift for the first time right here, I suggest you try to relax."

I blinked and looked down at my hands. Talking had calmed me down enough that the claws were gone. But my heart was still racing and pounding in my chest, begging to get out.

"Go take a cold shower. That'll help." He released my hands and took a step back, giving me some space.

Unable to look at him, I made my way to the bathroom. As I entered, I paused and held the knob tightly to center myself. Christian was already at the bed, undressing it. Probably to wash the blankets that I had stunk up from not showering for days.

I was a fucking mess.