Tall Dark Stranger

Tall Dark Stranger- Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hello lovelies! Here gos another chapter of the story thats being read the most by all of you amazing readers! I want to thank you guys for the support you've been giving this story, and I absolutely ADORE all the comments and votes this story has been getting. So, this chapter is dedicated to all of you guys who have been putting up with my crazy ideas and sporadic update times.... thanks for being patient.

The pain was overwhelming. Numbing. If I had thought that losing Mason had been hard, knowing that I had lost his child was completely heartbreaking. I barely managed to drag myself to my bedroom, ignoring Angeleas and Johns pleas to let them help me.

They couldn't, after all.

There was nothing they could say or do that would aliviate this sorching pain that seemed to be burning me up from the inside. It was as if my every flaw, my every failure, was displayed before me, and I couldn't resist any longer. I just couldn't fight it. It was as if the walls I'd carefully build around myself over the eyars after every hurt, every heartbreak, came crumbling down and this overwhelming wave of self-loathing was just all-consuming. What was there left for me to do? I had lost. I had lost everything I ever cared about. The love of my life. Our unborn child. My own happyness. My self-confidence. My strength. My will to go on.

Why keep on fighting if there was nothing woth fighting for? Why keep trying, if every time I managed to regain some sense of wellbeing, I would be beat down again? Why try to move on if the future brought me nothing more than pain? What if there was nothing left fro me to expect but heartache?

Reality checked in when after 72 hours when I still refused to eat. It was as if I had given up on myself completely. John had tried to talk me into eating something, telling me about the pack and how they needed me. Angelea had come in not much later, using the "we're-friends-and-there-are-people-out-there-who-need-you" card, but to no avail. When they send in my father to try and reason with me, I just shut everything out, retreating into my own little world, a shell of the person I used to be.

There was nothing they could do about it though. I was still their Alpha, and they wouldn't be able to froce me into doing anything. I felt sorry for them, or more truthfully said, I felt sorry for putting them into such a position. I was hurting them, I knew that, but I wanted to be selfish for a little while. To be able to mourn my loss and try and mantain my sanity. Maybe I could, maybe I couldn't. Only time could tell. Truth be told I felt as if I could die right then and there and it wouldn't have mattered. I wasn't religious, but I would have liked to think that if I died I'd be able to see Mason again. And maybe our baby.

I was as if suddenly everything else stopped to matter. It was such an intense pain, so bad that it was nearly ohysical. But in the end it was all in my head. Or my heart. Not that I knew which of the two hurt worse through the haze of pain that seemed to cloud my mind. It was like the rising and lowering of the tides of the ocean. It would start of like a dull throbbing ach in my chest, and worsen. It was this constricting pressure on my chest, as if my heart was being thrown into a meat grinder. My body would be covered in a sheen of cold sweat, tears streaming down my face as sobs wracked my body. And it would only get worse, until the pain was so consuming my body just gave up and I would pass out and sleep restlessly for a few hours, only to awaken for the process to start over again.

Why it affected me so badly, I didn't know. It was as if, once my mind had given up, my body was intent on following. As if when my will had faded, so had my bodies desire to live.

And maybe it was for the best.

I had done so many things wrong, made so many mistakes..... maybe it was better if Declan would take over the pack again. My pack would survive. They would manage. I had lost so much, endured even more and I had reached my breaking point. It just wasn't worth it. Not by along shot. Guilt was eating me, adn I felt terrified. I didn't deserve this. I wasn't Alpha material. I couldn't lead this pack. I was unworthy. Undeserving. Tainted. Ads my mind tried desperately not to succumb to those dark thought, another part of me agreed with them. The lingering touch of depression was ever-present in my mind, and a small part of me wanted to give in. Maybe this life wasn't worth living after all. Because, in all honsety, why would I have to put up with all the crap life had put me through? What was the point? If in the end I lost everything I cared about, what was the point in struggling to go on?