A soft knock on the door erupts the silent house. It seems wrong. Sound should not be allowed when the very walls of the structure are mourning.
A middle-aged man with a barely visible balding patch rises from the sofa, creaking the springs in doing so. His old sneakers barely creak the floorboards as he makes his way to the door, his eyes beyond hopeless. His face is pale, deep and hard circles running beneath his eyes. His eyebrows are lodged downward, emitting wrinkles like scars carved from marble. They spread across his face, aging him at least ten years. The corners of his mouth are turned down and he moves lifelessly.
"Charlie," the woman at the door greets him breathlessly as he opens it for her. Her hair is sloppily piled into a bun, held by a slipping clip in the back of her head and two mismatched chopsticks. The halo provided by the front door light illuminates every stray hair, emphasizing the sheer shoddiness of the style. Her makeup is clumpy and hastily done. Her clothes are far from matching, and her face matches the male's exactly.
"Renee," Charlie greets her, his voice dead.
"How is she?" Renee inquires, pushing herself into the threshold of the front door. She shakes her hair, sending stray droplets from the ever-present rain flying. The light outside the door flickers off. Her eyes dart around lifelessly, soaking in the scenery. The place hasn't changed much since the last time she was here.
Charlie shrugs. "No different. Sometimes I wonder, in the night, if she's dead… She never makes a sound until—" He cuts himself off, hanging his head.
Renee tenses. "She's still screaming?" Her voice is no more than a whisper, pain and worry coloring her tone.
Charlie nods, his face growing red. "Renee, I don't know what to do." He moans, his voice cracking in despair. A single tear escapes eye. "I think she needs to be hospitalized, but I can't take her there. That's where his father"—his lips curl over his teeth in disgust and fury—"used to work. I can't remind her of that. It's too cruel."
"Take me to her." Renee's voice is thick with anguish. She doesn't wait for Charlie to lead her up the stairs. She marches past him and begins to make her way to Bella's room. "Heaven help us," she murmurs under her breath and reaches for the door.
--
BPOV
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Through the darkness pressing down on me, I can barely hear muted thuds. My ears feel like their filled with cotton. Huh, that's weird. Didn't I clean them a few days ago? I think I did.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
What is that? Is it a robber? What time is it? Should I tell Charlie?
Charlie. That stirs me a bit. Isn't Charlie a police officer? I think he is. Yes, I remember his badge and the way he used to hang his gun up.
Gun…I should use it to—
"Don't do anything stupid or reckless," a faint voice reminds me, pressing a memory on me.
No! No memories! No, I can't—
I fight it back but it resists. It doesn't want to be locked away. I struggle with it, curling deeper into the safety of my self-imposed haze. I can't remember this—
"Bella?" A different voice this time. Gentle. Motherly. Motherly? Mom? Renee?
I struggle with the darkness, trying to push it off me.
"Bella, honey, can you hear me? It's your mom." She hesitates. "Can… can you open your eyes, darling?"
Her voice sounds far away, like I'm listening to it through water. Am I underwater? My senses twitch a bit. No… I don't think so. But it is really dark… I push some more. I fight my eyelids, but they don't want to be dislodged. It's as if they were glued shut.
"They were closed long enough to have been," an impatient voice hisses from deep inside my consciousness. I recognize it from somewhere, but I refuse to search through the haze to find out where. It could be dangerous, and I'm so comfortably numb.
"It's like she's in a coma," Renee whispers. Fabric rustles. Is another person in the room?
"I know," a man mumbles, his voice tight. "I can't get a movement out of her, unless I burst in the room when she's screaming. And she looks at me with those eyes…" He trails off. I have the sensation of furrowing my brow. Screaming at night? Wouldn't I have heard that?
"Start packing her stuff," Renee commands softly. "I'll see if I can wake the dead."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Oh. I see. Footsteps. I want to chuckle at my stupidity, but I can't make anything move.
Suddenly something strikes a chord. Packing? Where am I going? I try to move my lips but they stay frozen in place.
"Bella," Renee whispers, closer this time. "You're going to stay with me for a while, okay? Come to Jacksonville with me and Phil. He's redoing your room. Some sun would be good for you, honey. You're so pale." She tops as her hand traces my cheek.
Touch. Touch. Someone is touching me. I can't be touched. I used to be stroked on the cheek. Long, white fingers flash to my mind. The darkness lessens a bit. I flinch clumsily away from Renee's hand, pushing the image away.
The hands freeze and yank themselves away. "Bella?" Renee marvels, her voice full of wonder. I listen without hearing. "Honey, are you there? Can you get up? We leave soon. To Jacksonville, your new home." Her voice is chipper, filling the room with joy that shouldn't be there.
Suddenly, words flow back into my mind. Ones that matter. Leaving. Jacksonville. New home. My mind puts them together. They don't make sense. Leaving Forks? I can't leave. I need to tell them that. I need to say something. Anything! A wave of horror washes throw me, drumming on the walls of my abyss. They crack. Light seeps through. I struggle to uphold them. I can't let them fall. I'll fall. I'll crack. I'll break open. No. No no no!
I begin to panic. Where are my lips? Where are my hands? I need to do something. I can feel my heartbeat accelerate, a strange sensation, but I don't have time to pause in wonder. I need to stop them—
"No," I manage. The words slip from my mouth like silk, nothing more then a gargled sigh. I cringe as my cocoon of numbness begins to crumble. But I can't leave.
The room freezes. The sound of clothes being thrown into a suitcase halts.
"Bella?" Renee whispers, not daring to believe it. "Sweetie? Oh, Bella! I've been so worried!" She yanks me into her arms. I hang there, limp. I need to find my eyes.
"No," I repeat, stronger this time. My eyelids flutter open. I can't see anything. Nothing at all. I blink. Dim light makes it into my consciousness. I can almost feel the monster of pain leading me out of my haven into the fiery light of hell.
"'No,' what, sweetie?" Renee asks, squeezing me tighter.
"I'm not leaving." I taste the words on my tongue, savoring each one. They roll out slowly.
"Of course you are," a new voice says gruffly. Charlie. "Jacksonville would be good for you. You need to get away from Forks."
Away from Forks. To Jacksonville. But he won't exist there. Nothing can exist there. Not in sunny, warm Florida. No. No no!
Panic fills me like a roaring wave. I blink again, trying to find him so I can glare. "No."
"Oh, you'll love it there!" Renee pulls away, her face glowing. "There are so many nice kids there, and the schools are great! Oh, and lots of boys—"
With a burst of life, I find my hands. I yank them too swiftly to my ears. My arms tingle and feel like Jell-O, but I keep my palms pressed against my skull. I can't think about boys.
"I'm. Not. Leaving." I hiss, my voice suddenly loud. "I. Refuse."
Renee tugs on my arms. I let them drop and glare blearily at her. I blink. Her face is a mask of confusion and relief. "Why not?"
"My home is in Forks," I mutter. It terrifies me to leave. Like everything before wouldn't have existed. It couldn't. Not in sunny, hot, cloudless Jacksonville. Beads of sweat form at the nape of my neck and I clench my fists. He can't exist in Florida. "I can't leave."
"Oh but you'll adore Florida—"
"NO!" I cry, bursting through the last of the haze. The walls of my safe cocoon shudder for a moment. Time is suspended for a brief second. With a ripping sigh, they cave into themselves. Everything I have crumbles, invisible to everyone else. My walls fall. I cringe away from the light, searching desperately. Searching, but not finding. I can't even remember what I'm searching for. Terror washes through me. Light sears, merciless and unforgiving. I cringe, folding into myself. I am exposed, helpless, and terrified.
Everything is too clear. I narrow my eyes, squinting against the light that threatens to split me open. I clutch randomly at my stomach, trying to hold myself together. I can feel myself shattering. I shove against Renee, rising slowly. My knees tremble. I grip my night table for support. Renee offers me her arms. I push them away. "I won't leave Forks!" I snarl through my teeth.
"It'll be good for you—" Charlie offers.
"IT ISN'T GOOD FOR ME!" I wail, finally breaking. Pieces of me fly in every direction, but nobody can see it. Everything pounces back, ripping at me with venomous claws. The reason for the numbness, the suitcase on the floor. The reason for Renee in my room. The heartbreaking memories. Him. Him. Him.
Pain.
I yelp in shock, moaning as it ruthlessly tears at me. The pain bubbles to my lips, pounding on them to open. I oblige.
"NO! I WON'T. I CAN'T. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!" I scream blindly, letting the way I feel pour out in words. "YOU DON'T WANT ME! YOU NEVER WANTED ME, AND I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE SHIPPING ME AWAY! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE LEAVING!" I wail, not bothering to notice the double meaning behind the words. I grab a bottle of lotion and hurl it across the room. It smacks into a framed picture, which drops to the floor and shatters.
Just like me. Just like my universe. Shattered. Gone. Just like my heart.
Nothing was coming back. Life, love, meaning… It is hopelessly destroyed beyond repair. He took everything with him, yanking the rug beneath my feet, leaving me bruised and bleeding and broken. But it doesn't matter, because I don't care. Because he doesn't care. Because he doesn't love. He couldn't love. His heart is cold. He doesn't want me, he never will. I am a horrible fool.
I stare at the destroyed frame, tears welling over. "All I wanted was a pretty picture," I moan. "And now it's DESTROYED!" I scream, my throat burning from sudden use. "EVERYTHING IS DESTROYED." I grip the suitcase and heave it against my dresser, which wobbles and falls. I can hear splintering wood, but it doesn't matter. "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? Why NOW? Why…?!" I feel like my chest has been sliced open. Someone grabbed my heart and mangled it. Mangled everything about me. Tore me up and didn't care. "I HATE YOU!" I screech, yanking books out of the shelves and throwing them around the room. I reach blindly for one and yank out the pages, the tearing sounds filling the silent room. My knees finally buckle. I flop down onto the floor amidst the rubble that is my room. That is me. I pound my fists against the floor and sob. "But I love you," I whisper, my voice strangled with pain.
For a fleeting moment, I wondered how I am still alive. Shouldn't someone with no heart die? I was long sine murdered, but I am still breathing. Still living. And I will continue living. I will live for Charlie. For Renee. For the lost and mangled hope that refuses to leave the essence of my being. I will live, as long as I stay in Forks.
My shoulders heave. Sobs tear through my body. Hands rush to soothe me. Renee gathers me into her arms and rocks me back and forth.
"Shh, shh. It's okay. You can stay. Stay in Forks," she croons, her voice shocked. I bury my nose in her shirt and let my tears run rentlessly. Maybe if I keep crying, my body will run out of tears. Maybe I'll cry out my soul.
At least that way, I won't have to feel.
Darkness envelopes me, and I have the sensation of falling. I wonder fleetingly how long it will take me to hit rock bottom. Or maybe I already have, and this is just what's left.