Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all, except my poorly cooked red velvet chocolate-chip cookies.

Afflicted by love's madness all are blind

How can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms
The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won

But I gave you all

~ I gave you all ~ Mumford & Sons

EPOV

It was raining, pouring down. I could hear it, smell it, feel it. But not see it. No, never see it. Somehow I could still remember what the rain would look like. It was one of the few things I could still remember, being reminded of it every time it rained. Stupid Forks. Always downing buckets of rain on our heads. It felt like it was just to bother me, just to remind me of what a miserable excuse of a man I had been, and was. Just to remind me of what I had lost, and could never gain again. Just to fucking mess with my head.

I really needed to move.

xXxXx

I slowly made my way out in the rain, and started walking the few blocks to my home. Forks was a small town, it was easy to get around. Even for a blind man, with poor morals there was no trouble to get around in Forks. Just another thing I hated about the place that I knew I would never leave. How could I leave? Where would I go? How would I start over?

A few people I knew said short 'hello's as they ran past me, to acknowledge their presence. As if they needed to speak for me to know they were there; I could hear their running footsteps from a mile away. Running to get out of this weather, and to prevent getting wet. I almost wanted to yell at them for being so stupid. There are more important things in life then not getting wet in the rain, I wanted to yell. I had run once, but never again. The pace would surely kill me now, as I wasn't able to see the path ahead of me. Last time I ran it didn't cost me my life, only my sight.

It's true as they say: when you lose one sense the other senses will develop to make up for the lost one. Just thinking about that stupid saying made me want to snort. As if a better hearing could ever make up for the constant darkness I was surrounded in. As if smelling a wet dog better would ever make me be okay with never seeing colours again. As if life could ever be the same without my eyesight.

From the store to my apartment took 37 minutes, with groceries in my hand. Without I could make it in 34. For a person with an actual vision of where he, or she, was stepping it would probably have taken 15 minutes, with or without groceries. When entering my loft, which I knew was perfectly decorated not because I had seen it but because my mother had done it, I once again cursed the way my life had turned out. And ten seconds after, while putting down the groceries, I cursed myself for being such a pitiful excuse of a man.

"Like it is anyone else's fault, but your own, Edward," I sighed while taking my clothes of.

While still seeing I could have put the groceries away in a matter of minutes, but every task became harder with losing my sight, unsurprisingly. Every move I made had to be better calculated, slower and more intentional. What used to take minutes could now take hours. As soon as I was done with the groceries, I walked carefully into my study. Just to sit, as I had done so many times before.

And as so many times before I let one of my hands stroke gently over the canvas. Feeling the dried paint on parts of it, but even more; feeling the parts of it that was without paint. I let my fingers roam downwards, until I found one of the brushes. Slowly I stroked the clean brush over the canvas, knowing perfectly well that it wouldn't leave a trace. I let the brush fall back again. The dried paint I knew was there was pain enough, but the real pain lay within the blank spots. The spots I had never gotten a chance to fill.

The painting showed a young girl in a meadow. Or rather; it should have shown a young girl in a meadow. What it showed now was the unfinished face of an unknown girl, sitting in something that could resemble grass. I knew every detail of it, and every detail that was missing. My biggest regret was that I never got to finish it, and therefore I knew exactly how I had left it.

xXxXx

As I sat in my study the night came creeping in. I knew, but not because I could see it. I could not see the darkness that slowly laid its blanket over the town, or the stars that would soon peek out from under it. No, I had a watch that told me the time, and that was it.

Carefully I spent the usual half-hour getting ready for bed. And as I lay under the duvets and closed my eyes I once again noticed how closing my eyes didn't even make a difference.

BPOV

Returning to dreary and gray Forks had never been a dream of mine. I had never fit in here in the first place, and nothing would make me believe that I did so any more now than I had before. Now I would be the prodigal daughter that returned, after her father's death. I knew what it looked like. It looked like the only reason I came back was to take over the house.

I didn't even want the stupid house, but my father had asked me so sweetly to take care of it, and what was I supposed to do? Deny a dying man his last wish?

No, I wouldn't do that. So I would stand strong against the gossip and live my life just the way I wanted. If the old church ladies couldn't deal with it that would be their problem, and not mine.

I slumped back in the chair. The chair that Charlie had sat in so often that it was pretty much still warm. I could almost hear his laughter bellowing of the walls. And I knew I could hear his soft pleas of sorrow from the day I left. Staying just hadn't been an option for me, once I turned eighteen I had to get out. It had never been my intention to break my father's heart, but, like I said, Forks was gray and boring and I was colourful and lively. Forks just couldn't contain all I had to give; the old bats of the town would never have accepted my brilliant ideas for what they were. There were greater, bigger cities out there that would. Cities that would recognize the colourful me, and see me for what I was worth. They would open their arms and embrace all my talents and riches.

Or so I had thought.

Nevertheless, I knew now that I wasn't good enough to make it. Looking back I realised that no matter what I had tried I had fallen flat on my face. And all that pain was gathered up inside me, festering on me. I was aware of all the pent up pain and rage, and I knew that every therapist would have told me to let it out, but I couldn't. The world was right; I had thought to highly of myself, and this pain was my punishment. I was indeed a nothing.

So maybe returning to Forks wasn't the worst idea in the world. At least I didn't have to worry about rent anymore. And I wouldn't have to worry about any of my crazy ideas actually taking form, just to lash out and hit me in the face later on.

Forks could be safety. Forks could be a break. Because God knew I needed a break. I needed to recuperate. And when it was time I would return to the big city, and this time I would be prepared. I would not let anyone stand in my way. The next time I would make it.

xXxXx

The crick in my neck was a killer.

"That's what you get for falling asleep in an old chair, Bells," I whispered to the darkened house.

While I had been sleeping the night had spread it wings over my new, or was it old, home. Carefully I stretched my arms over my head, while trying to crack my neck into its right position again. After a little stretch I finally got out of the chair and made my way over to the light switch. Just as I was about to turn the lights on I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the darkened windows.

I couldn't help but stare at myself. How could I really have believed that I would make it anywhere? How could I believe it now?

To make it you had to be something special. You had to be extraordinary. I was just plain ordinary. Maybe even a little boring. There was nothing special about my pale skin, drawn face and tired hair. Or my lifeless eyes. He had been right all along. There was nothing, neither within me nor on the outside that could make anyone look twice.

The burning words that suddenly rang loud and clear, as if he was standing in the room with me, made me cringe. So I turned the lights back on. Without the reflection I was at least safe from the demon that was me.

xXxXx

I made my way to the kitchen. Apprehensive of what I would actually find there. Since I had, so far, spent all my time in here sleeping in the old chair I hadn't really had any time to explore what existed in the house.

What I found was a fairly well equipped kitchen, not that I knew why; Charlie had never been a cook far beyond the microwave. So I set to work with putting away the groceries I had brought with me. It didn't take nearly enough time. For a short while I stood looking out into the night.

"Ah, hell, it's not like I'll get any sleep now anyway," I said exasperated to the darkness. "I might as well make good use of the hours."

I set up the equipment I needed and made a batch of my favourite cookies, followed by a batch of scones and a round of cake. Then some bread and a couple of rounds of cupcakes.

By the time the morning sun crept over the horizon, making the raindrops in the grass into magic, I stood there with enough baked goods to feed an entire army.

God, I'll get fat if I eat all this myself, I thought before I packed it all away and went to bed.

A/N

So, this is going to be my first fanfic with more than one chapter. Usually I have a friend read it all over before I would even consider posting anything. This time I'm just throwing it out there, so have mercy on me.

Now, please have some mercy on me. I don't have all the time in the world.
You will probably also see that so far I'm a fan of shorter chapters.

The part about Bella baking in the middle of the night is all inspired by angstgoodess003's Wide Awake. If you haven't read it, then do so.

Also, the title is a quote by Sextus Propertius.

Hope you enjoyed, and that you will read the continuance; when it gets here.

Love.