The Twilight Twenty-Five - thetwilight25 dot com
Prompt: #19
Pen Name: Maddie-the-Muse
Pairing/Character(s): Jacob/Bella
Rating: K
Word Count: 395
Photo prompts can be found here: thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts
He went to visit her grave every year on her birthday, despite knowing that she didn't actually lie in the casket buried there. He knew that, technically, she wasn't dead, but also that she could never again be described as alive.
He'd sit on the dried grass covering her grave, and lean back against the headstone carved with dates that represented nothing. As far as he was concerned, she had died long before the date carved there—the date that her death was faked for her family's benefit. That was the day he knew that he would never see her again. It had been nearly 20 years now, and he came to sit in this spot every year, no longer having to wait until Charlie had come and gone since he had passed away himself a couple of years ago.
He spoke to her, knowing that she would never hear him. It was easier to pretend that she was actually dead than walking around somewhere, undead.
"Hey, Bells. Happy Birthday." His voice shaky with emotions he felt ashamed at still carrying around. Taking a deep breath he kneeled facing the headstone and slowly let the breath out as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know why I still come here. Habit I guess."
He sat quietly, listening to the birds chirping in the distance. "I can't do it anymore, Bella. I need to move on. I'm too old and too tired to carry around the memory of a girl that was too damn stupid to live her life. I'm sorry. I love you, but I'm done. I hope you're happy, where ever you are."
After another long quite moment, he wiped the tears that had spilled out over his lower lashes and rose to his feet.
She watched from her perch in the tree tops downwind from the grave yard as he turned and slowly walked back to his truck parked at the gate. The tension in her chest she felt every time she listened to him speak at her headstone tightened until she felt like it might break her in half. She had come every year to listen to the stories he told the empty grave, pretending for just one day that she had made the right decision; that she hadn't thrown her life away—that Jacob could really be hers.
