Empty Silence

Written By:

Pinkster Lily

Chapter One:

Everything Ends

The breeze is lazy, lingering against the leaves of the trees overhead and playing with the ends of my dark hair. Sunlight flickers through the shade offered by the trees on the spring grass below my black shoes, peaceful, as birds chirp cheerfully around the clearing. Murmuring fills my ears, one calm, clear voice at the forefront.

"Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts…"

I rub my arms, feeling cold. The scene is beautiful, but the warmth of the day belies the somberness of the occasion. I shudder, despite the warm air, and cling to myself throughout the ceremony, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, my own set trained on the wreath of white flowers in front of me.

"Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find the courage to die. But God proves his love for us…"

I feel sick, listening to the passages. It takes more courage to live, than it does to leave those who love you behind. Anger boils within me, although my stance does not betray it. I want to rend whoever has chosen these words to pieces, want to with every fiber of my being to seize the pastor by his shoulders and shake him until the world starts to make sense once again.

The crowd begins to mill back towards the church as the casket is lowered into the ground, but I am rooted to my spot beside the grave, unwilling to accept the truth of this moment. I will never see him again, his dazzling smile and bright eyes. I will never hear his deep, hearty laugh, or the sound of his velvet voice.

I am alone.

How could he do this to me?

I feel someone pause next to me, but don't acknowledge their presence as I stare at the flowers atop the shining lacquered lid. A hand rests on my shoulder. "It's time to go back for the wake." The voice is smooth, sad. It's familiarity brings tears to my eyes for the first time since I found him. It feels like a lifetime ago, although I know it had only been a few days.

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around my middle as sobs begin to rack my body, my grief threatening to split my fragile being into pieces. The hole in my chest grows larger, consuming, leaving nothing but my sadness, my loss.

Warm arms encase my shaking form, holding me together, if only for a moment. I can hear the tears in his anguished voice. "Come inside, Bella," he whispers, gripping me tighter. "Seeing this won't help." He turns my body, guiding me away from the place where my other half will forever reside, instead of next to me.

~o~

I sit in the corner of the room, staring at my hands while the people around me converse in hushed whispers. I ignore those who try to console me with their meaningless words.

Everyone is sorry; sorry for my loss, sorry for the loss of a promising young life, sorry for the people he left behind. No one dares to ask the most important question: why?

Why did he do it? Why did he think death was preferable to living with me? With his family?

My mind is haunted by the whys and the what-ifs, of what this day could have been for us. Images of our hands clasped together as we grow old fills my vision, choking me. I feel the weight of our once-future crushing me; the room spins before my eyes.

The bathroom door shuts loudly behind me, I don't even bother to lock it as I collapse over the toilet, dry-heaving. Bile rises in the back of my throat, triggering another wave of nausea. I grip the edges of the pristine seat, sobbing as the feeling of utter sorrow settles over me. I am drowning in it.

Large hands gather my hair back as I retch again, coughing. I don't quite register that I am no longer alone and, once it seems that the worst is over, I feel myself leaning back into the strong body behind me, still shaking.

"Shush," he says, rubbing my back. There is nothing he can say that will make this horrible, hollow feeling go away, so he doesn't even try.

"Jasper," I gasp, squeezing my eyes closed against another wave of uncontrollable anguish. My diaphragm contracts, preventing any further words.

He seems to understand, holding me to him like he had in the cemetery. "It's okay, Bella. Just breathe."

I shake my head, disbelief coloring my voice. "It isn't okay," I struggle to tell him through my constricted throat. "It will never be okay again. How could he?" I cry, fisting his nice dress shirt and pounding my hand against his chest. "How could he?"

I haven't spoken since I found him, his lifeless body lying prone, his hand dangling –

Jasper's voice interrupts my train of thought, his hands tightening on my shoulders. "I don't know," he answers finally.

He helps me to my feet, ushering me out of the bathroom and into the empty kitchen. A cup of hot tea is before me almost instantly, sitting on the table as I stare at it, not really sure what to do with it. I slump in my chair, gazing into its depths like it can give me the answers I seek.

I hear Jasper's soft voice beyond the kitchen, speaking to someone out of my field of vision. "I don't think seeing anyone right now would help," he explains lowly, concerned. "I think she just wants to be left alone right now."

Quite murmurings answer him, the voice unrecognizable to me.

"Yes, I know," he answers. I see him glance back into the kitchen from the doorway. "I know." He comes back to me, sitting in the chair next to mine as if he wasn't just taking about me. "Drink some tea, Bella."

I want to object, but can't find the energy to refuse. I hold the cup unsteadily to my lips, smelling its light fragrance; honey and cinnamon and apples all swirl in a steamy cloud around my head.

Minutes pass; they feel like hours. I sip the tea, more out of a desire to wash the taste of bile from my mouth than anything else. Jasper sits next to me just as silently, staring out the window. I examine him, looking for anything that could possibly distract me from the aching hole in my chest where he should have been.

His blond hair waves down to his ears, longer than his had ever been and much more controlled than the unruly bronze locks that he had possessed. His strong jaw is set into a grimace, skin tan despite the general gloominess of this little town. I know it's the result of living in California over the last few years, off at college and away from the clouds that consume this entire area for most of the year.

I wonder if going away to somewhere brighter, rather than staying here, would have changed anything for us.

His eyes, still focused on a point beyond the window, are dark, the deepest blue I have yet seen and full with sadness.

For brothers, they don't really look much alike. It is a fact that both eases my pain and sends bolts of unexpected hurt through me, as the thought that I will never see him again invades my mind for the hundredth time.

~o~

I stand outside of our bedroom, staring at the closed door as I attempt to gather the strength I need to go inside. I had stayed with Alice, one of our close friends, for the last several days, not wanting to face the empty apartment alone. She offered to come with me – my being alone seemed to bother her – but, at the time, I felt like I had imposed on her hospitality for long enough and I reassured her that I would be fine.

It's just an apartment, after all. Just a room; it can't hurt me, it shouldn't be able to hurt me.

But it doesn't feel that way as she drops me off in front of it, its stone façade looming over me. Even being in the stairway causes my eyes to prick with tears and my chest to stiffen, waves of emotion cascading over me as memories surface, unbidden – unwanted.

I had waved Alice off, though; my face frozen into something that I had hoped didn't betray the chaos that rules my thoughts. I take each step up to the third floor slowly, the heavy sound of my footsteps invading my senses as I think of the pair that should be following mine. It takes me close to half an hour to open the front door and when I do I can immediately smell the sharp, biting scent of bleach under the tangy aroma of orange scented cleaner.

I trudge through the dark hallway into the kitchen, dumping my belongings onto the table there and sitting on one of the barstools by the counter. The note he left for me still rests on the marble, folded neatly with my name scrawled in his unmistakable handwriting and untouched. I haven't been able to bring myself to read it, terrified of what I might find inside it.

I pour myself a glass of wine from the mostly unused collection; barely touching the dark liquid inside it as I just sit there, wallowing in my self-pity until much of the light in the room has faded, dusk nearly plunging me into darkness. Flicking on the hall light, I slowly made my way down to our bedroom door, glass forgotten, and just stand there.

My fears are incomprehensible to me, the thought of entering that room alone one of the worst imaginable. His smell will assault me the moment I step inside, all the little reminders of him that I have so dutifully avoided the last few days surrounding me. I'm not ready for them – and, right now, I don't think I ever will be.

Eventually, I find my way back to my glass of wine, sipping it slowly as I lay back on the couch in the living room and drift off to dreams filled with his green eyes, his laughing face, and crooked grin. They are of little comfort and I toss restlessly the entire night.

~o~

I wake to light, persistent knocking, groaning as I turn over, reaching out for him before I realize that I'm not in our bed. The weight of the world comes crashing down on me as my hand makes contact with the cold, hard coffee table only a foot away. My clumsy fingers collide with the mostly empty wine glass there, sending it clashing onto the floor.

The knocking becomes harder.

"Bella?" Jasper's voice calls through the door, anxious.

The shards of glass glint in the early morning sunlight that streaks across the wood floor, the dark red stain of the leftover wine pooling around them. A wave of queasiness floods through me at the sight of them. I curl up and close my eyes against the sudden nausea I feel.

"Bella, I'm coming in."

I hear keys jingling, scraping against the lock, and then Jasper's sure footsteps as he comes into the kitchen. I don't open my eyes, shrinking in on myself.

"Oh, Bella," he sighs.

The vibrations of his steps shake the couch as he gets closer. I feel his hand on my shoulder, pulling me up into a sitting position against the arm. My hands automatically come up to my face, shielding it from view.

"I'll clean this up," he says gently, walking away from me for a brief moment. I peak out at him through my fingers, watching as he mops up the spilled wine and gingerly picks up the shards of glass.

When he's done, he sits down next to me on the couch. "I went by Alice's this morning to check on you, but she said you left yesterday afternoon," he starts, voice soft. "Why did you come back here, Bella?"

I bite my lip. "I thought I was ready. I didn't want to impose on Alice any longer."

He sighs again, making me feel like a child being scolded. "Bella, I doubt that you were imposing. I'm sure she would be fine with you staying as long as you need."

I tilt my head back, folding my arms around my knees and glancing over at him. "I can't just leave his things here. Esme and Carlisle will be wanting some of them back, and I can't bear the thought of looking at them," I try to explain.

"They don't expect you to do anything," he counters quickly. "And neither do I," he adds, watching me. The hurt in his eyes is as apparent to me as mine must be to him. "You need to focus on yourself, right now."

I don't know how he can say that, with the loss of his brother weighing down on him. I have to remind myself that I'm not the only person who lost someone dear to me, but that only makes me feel guiltier.

"I'll make some breakfast."

I follow him to the bar, absentmindedly observing from the stool as he searches the cupboards for various ingredients, occasionally asking me where something is. I only manage half-formed murmurs in response.

The smell of pancakes quickly fills the apartment, my stomach growling in response as I realize that I can't remember when I'd last eaten a proper meal. I eat in silence as Jasper cleans the kitchen, wiping down the stove and scrubbing the pans. This is the kind of thing that he would have done for me; the thought sends a pang through me.

"Mom offered to help you pack up his things," Jasper tells me, leaning on the counter across from me.

I don't look up from the pancakes I'm slowly cutting. Esme had approached me as I was leaving their house after the wake, but I'd turned her down, not wanting to cause her more pain. She's like a mother to me, especially after my own parents had passed a few years ago, and the pain of losing a son is hard enough on her – she doesn't need to see the place where it had happened.

Jasper exhales; I see him look down at his clasped hands.

"I don't want her to see it," I explain after I swallow another bite, voice hushed as if that will make it all any less real. "It's hard enough on her already."

He nods to himself. "It's hard on all of us."

His words are clearly intended as a reminder to me that I'm not having an easier time than anyone else.

I finish the pancakes in silence, not meeting his eyes.

I don't deserve to feel as terrible as his family does.

~o~

I use the guest bathroom to wash up, changing out of the clothes from last night and scavenging through the laundry room for clean ones so that I won't have to go into my bedroom closet. My gaunt face stares back at me in the mirror as I tug the knots out of my hair, not caring as small sparks of pain register in my scalp.

When I'm done, I stand in front of the sink, feeling hollow despite the fullness of the large meal Jasper had made me. I'm not sure how to return to my normal life without him, how I can go on as if my life hadn't shattered as soon as I'd entered our bathroom.

Jasper knocks on the bathroom door. "Bella?"

I jolt back to the present. "Yeah, I'm almost done," I call, reaching for the spare toothbrushes we keep in the medicine cabinet.

Once finished, I open the door to find him waiting for me in the hallway. I brush past him, grabbing my coat and purse before walking out of the apartment. I wait in the stairwell for him, closing and locking the door behind once he crosses the threshold. He'd kindly volunteered to drive me to the hospital so that the stitches in my hand could be removed, since I didn't have a car.

We say nothing on the rainy drive there, him focusing on the road and adjusting the radio every now and then. Guilt racks through me as I take in at his stony expression before quickly turning to the trees flickering past.

He offers to come into the office with me when my name is called, but I tell him to stay in the waiting room, citing the simple procedure as my excuse. In all honesty, I just want to be alone as the last remnant from that horrible night is removed from my body.

"You are very lucky that you didn't sever a nerve," the nurse tells me, deftly cutting the stitches in my palm.

I nod unenthusiastically, not feeling lucky at all. If I had been lucky, he would still be here with me, waiting for me outside of the office instead of his brother. Or, rather, we wouldn't be here at all.

"There, all done," she proclaims, smiling at my blank face and handing me a card detailing the aftercare. I force a smile, thanking her, and let her lead me back to the waiting room.

We walk to the car, feeling troubled about the last time we were here, less than a week ago.

Jasper breaks the silence, like always. "I saw the note on the counter," he mentions. My eyes meet his blue ones for an instant before darting back to the damp cement of the parking lot. "Have you read it?"

My chest squeezes painfully, throbbing. "No," I manage, pissed and gritting my teeth. As if I could.

He pauses, reaching for my arm. I shrug him off, turning to face him. "I don't want to read it; nothing will fix this!" I hiss, lashing out at him. I instantly feel remorseful. "I'm sorry," I stutter. "I'm just so…"

Jasper nods yet again, understanding painting his face. "I know – I feel it, too."

Can he feel my guilt over not being able to help him, too? The anger, both directed at him for doing such a thing and at myself for not doing anything to stop him? For not seeing it? I was the one who lived with him, loved him, cared for him. I should have known, but I didn't.

The hole in my chest threatens to overtake me, to devour me whole.

I should have known.

"He left me a note, too," Jasper begins; my eyes flit up to his. "It came in the mail the day before the funeral." I flinch violently, which he ignores tactfully. "He didn't blame any of us," he tries to assure me.

It doesn't matter if he didn't blame me. I blame myself.

"I think you should read the note," he tells me, pressing on as I shake my head. "I think it might help you get some closure."

"Jasper, how can I ever move on through life without him?" I question, staring at him. "How can I ever come to terms with what he did? I found him," I cry, wiping the salty tears from my cheeks. "If I had only come home sooner – "

Jasper waves his hand, cutting me off. "No what ifs," he says, a note of finality in his voice. "Nothing you could have done would've changed what happened." Regardless of what he tells me, my mind still circles around the possibilities, of getting him help. Jasper grips my shoulder, looking like he is about to say something more.

I shake him off, stepping back from him. "Just take me home."

~o~

As soon as I get home, I shut the door loudly behind me and throw myself into the rest of the wine bottle, not caring that it's now stale. I pass out on the couch, more exhausted than I should be after the slow day I've had, and curl into a ball with my shoes still on, my cries the only sound in our empty apartment.