APUI: Volume 1 - My Life as a Werewolf

Chapter 40: When There is a Good Thing, There is Always an Ending

On notes this was dated 15th August 2014 10:38pm

This version is slightly edited from 27th September 2015 when I finally wrote chapter 35, finished chapter 37 and posted the final 5 chapters and epilogue.

< 💣 B/G POV 💣 >

I like to think that my life as a werewolf ended like everyone's should: in a bed, surrounded by people I love and love me. But really, this idealistic fantasy overlooks many main components of my death. Although my end was similar to old age, it was no where near as picturesque. In fact, you could say that the finish to my life was not at all a flash way to go.

My life ended in IV's and life support. It came as doctors screamed incoherent words and family members broke down. The end was not peaceful, it was delayed and stunted but I knew it was coming; I made it come.

I can still remember the cold metal resting on my fingers, the knife a pleasant weight in my hand. The first cut was swift and painless and as a lone drop of scarlet fell, the other wrist was cut.

That was when I dropped the knife. It clattered to the ground, sounding so loud you would think it was double its size. I used the one we usually used to cut beef, my science teacher said human meat was probably rather similar. My back slid down the wall and I stared at my hands. The ruby liquid forcing its way out of the two slits was fascinating. When the bleeding began to stop I cut another line. I had to keep the blood flowing - I had no reason to stay on earth. If I left now it would cause me and everyone around me way less hurt than in the future. If I did this I would save at least one other person. And eye for an eye. A life for a life.

You would think that I would have healed the cuts already I am a werewolf after all but it's not that simple. Due to my weak state each cut would have taken about 5 minutes to heal but because I had two at a time at first that's 10 minutes. Then the amount of cuts increased to four after about three minutes, nowhere near enough time to let the original cuts, and the new cuts made healing even harder. It didn't help that Emmy didn't really want to heal, as she was in mild depression herself, and she felt my depression making her loose the will to heal me quickly. Not to mention that dying was the right, noble thing to do. And Emmy knew that as well as I did. It also didn't help that I hadn't eaten in days and a proper meal in weeks. The anorexia was settling into my immune system, increasing my weakness.

And that was how Lora found me, an hour after my original cut. Barely conscious and surrounded by my own blood. Staring at my wrists as blood gushed out of the multiple slits.

From then it's a blur. I remember the bright lights of hospital that gave me a headache. The needles that were jabbed into the vein in the middle of my arm. The wipes that stung when they were used on my cuts. I remember them stitching up the worst slices. The doctors adjusting the machines on the side. I remember the world becoming blurry and the machines stuffing up.

That was when the doctors started shouting and the waterworks began. That was when I opened my eyes for the last time and said "I'm sorry" to my brother who had come to see me as soon as he heard. That was when death welcomed me with open arms.

"I, Grace Stanley, accept your rejection" I knew he was in the room and I didn't want to drag Lucas down with me.
But the monster was an entirely different matter. But marking me he had bound himself to me forever and that motherfucker was definitely accompanying me into hell.

And that's how I died. Some might say it was tragic bit for me it's just a fact of life, or death really. Someone in a book I read once said 'life isn't all sunshine and fucking roses' and, I now realise, death ain't all sunshine and fucking roses either. Death is hard even if you try to make it easier, others will make it hard again. Death is slow even if you try to make it quicker, others will make it slow again. The living continue to hold onto the dying, even when the dying have already let go. And that is why I am glad to be dead.

I hope I will be regarded as somewhat of a martyr, dying for the common good. Giving my life for those I love and care about and my beliefs.
I didn't die from a broken heart, from rejection, I died because I chose to. I chose the way and time I left the world. I choose how to live and die my life. This was my final life choice.

Suicide.

'!?,."@&$)(;:/-

A/N
Thats the end peeps
An epilogue is coming soon in Jackson's point of view
A happy ending may come as well
- Grace

Ps. Don't be angry!!!