December:

The rain poured down all around me, dripping off the tree branches and soaking my skin to the bone. Somewhere in the distance, an animal stirred, rustling the leaves and crunching over them as though in a great hurry. Keeping my eyes shut tight, I felt my heart shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, each one cutting like a piece of glass, stabbing me from the inside. Soon, I would die.

Minutes passed slowly but death never came. Every inch of my body stung with pain, as though it were being stuck with needles; deeper and deeper they went. Suddenly, the light that was trying to break through my closed lids disappeared and I slowly cracked open my eyes.

A tall man was standing over me, looking down in concern. He picked me up and carried me through the forest as a fire erupted against the parts of my body that were touching him. I said nothing. He said nothing, just walked along, as though this was all part of his job—part of what he was meant to do.

"It will be as though I never existed."

The words ripped through my mind and an explosion of pain shot through my entire body. My mouth flew open as I screamed, trying to force it out of my system. In the distance, I could hear my name being called. I could feel the man holding me shake me, but I didn't stop. Louder and louder I screamed, trying anything to get the feeling out of my body. He shook harder, I screamed louder, and finally, I woke up.

"Bella, Bella! It's okay. It was just a dream." Charlie was sitting on the bed next to me, rubbing my head with one hand, his eyes with the other.

Turning towards the clock, I saw it was five in the morning, almost time for him to get up for work. It had been weeks since he had actually woke me up from my dreams. Most days he let them run their course, but from the look in his eyes, I could tell he was at his wits end with his new alarm clock.

Standing slowly, he walked out the door; the floor board creaked under the weight of his tired and heavy body. Before he closed it, he turned to look back at me; the pain in his eyes was nothing compared to what I was sure he saw in mine. It hurt to see what this was doing to him. Even though Charlie and I weren't close, he was still my father, and the thought that my being here was making his life worse only added to the thoughts running through my mind.

"Bells."

"Yes?" To my surprise, I actually managed to form words.

"Billy and Harry wanted me to come over and watch the game tonight, but I don't have to go if you'd rather I was here."

"No, go. I'll be, I mean, its okay, go. I know you want to." I couldn't say I'd be fine, I couldn't even say I'd be okay, because even though it didn't matter if he stayed or not, I wouldn't be.

"Alright. See you tonight." Closing the door slowly, I heard him walk back to his room to get ready for work.

Lying on the bed, I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them tightly. No tears slid down my cheeks--they hadn't for weeks. It was as though my body had forgotten how to make them. My eyes burned from their absence as I waited, listening for the sound that meant Charlie had left.

Once I heard the front door close, I ran to the bathroom, not able to hold the pain in any longer. Falling to my knees I retched and choked as the hurt tried to find another path out of my body. After a few minutes, my stomach subsided and I leaned back against the wall, working on catching my breath.

A shower was in order after that, and I followed all the same motions I did everyday in order to pretend I was living my life--brushing my teeth, combing my hair, using as little effort as possible, yet still putting on the show that I was trying. Throwing my pajamas back on, I descended the stairs to the living room and flipped on the television.

Weekends were the worst. There was no school and no homework to distract me since I did it during the week. Flipping through the channels, I tried to find something, anything, to watch that wouldn't bring up memories. It was hard, as everything I saw I could relate to him. My heart thumped loudly, protesting, yelling at me for even thinking of mentioning him.

Giving up on finding something to occupy my mind and pass the time, I headed into the kitchen to see if there was anything to clean in there. Of course, there wasn't; the house was spotless, just as it had been for the last two months. I knew there was a load of laundry in Charlie's room, and after last night's dream and the sweat I had worked up, I was sure my sheets could stand to be washed.

I moved slowly like a snail, making each step, each move, exact and precise, trying to waste away the minutes until nightfall. The clock read six a.m.; my shoulders slumped as I exhaled loudly. This Saturday would be like all the rest, and like all the rest, I wasn't sure if I'd make it through.

The television was still on in the living room, mumbling on about some product for sale that I'd never buy, or about some new movie coming out I'd never go see. It was just background noise, but it still entered my ears and placed images in my head. Rushing into the room, I hit the button to turn it off just as the announcer was describing the golden yellow glow of the latest style of sports car.

Grabbing my coat from the back of the chair, I ran outside, zipping it up tightly as I hit the front porch steps. Sleet was pounding down from the dark gray clouds, slopping to the ground, soaking and freezing me all at the same time. I had no idea where I was going, but I had to go somewhere, anywhere.

In front of me, my breath clouded my view in the morning haze, making it hard to see where I was going. Falling down several times didn't send me home, but pushed me to move faster, farther. My mind was clear, only able to focus on the chattering of my teeth, the shaking of my hands, the perfect solution to my over thinking problem.

The sun was now shining brightly overhead and I could feel hunger pangs bouncing around my stomach. I'd been walking all through the town, gone down every street, passed by every house, and just as I was ready to head home, I found myself there, as though my feet knew it was where I needed to go.

Sitting down in the kitchen, I fought to pull my boots off my feet. My socks were soaked all the way through, freezing my toes and feet. Stripping down, I ran up the stairs and turned the hot water on in the shower, jumping in and jolting my body back to a normal temperature. My whole body began to tingle and my head started to spin as I stood in the steam, taking in its warmth.

Climbing out of the shower, I wrapped the towel tightly around myself. I had taken my second shower of the day and used up another half an hour. Maybe I would just spend all of tomorrow showering; I'd be very clean, and the day would go by much quicker. Rubbing the water off the mirror, I looked at myself for a split second before turning away in disgust. I was somehow even paler then before, with dark circles under my eyes and a look of death all about me; it was as though I were... I couldn't say it, I could barely think it.

Heading to my room, I saw that it was one in the afternoon. Somehow I had walked the streets of Forks for over five hours. My legs should have hurt. My thighs should ache every time I tried to sit down, my calves should burn, my feet should throb, but they didn't. All the pain was in my chest, around my heart, just like it always was, and always would be.

Charlie would be calling soon. It was his lunch time, and he liked to check up on me on the weekends. For the first month he took weekends off, only working when he had to, but I convinced him it was okay; that he couldn't always be around, and that if he wanted things to be normal, he had to act normal. Even though they seemed to help him, they were just words to me--meaningless and useless.

Against my better judgment, I turned the television back on while I forced down my lunch. Every meal was now home cooked, if only to take up more time. I'd started making smaller amounts of food so there were no leftovers and added more courses to each meal. Most days I was glad we didn't have a dishwasher, as chores always helped eat up the time.

The first channel I tried was bad; it was showing a commercial for a new car stereo and my mind flashed to the one hidden in the back of my closet, ripped from its home. Switching it quickly to the next one, there was a scene of a birthday party. My heart slammed itself around in my chest as I jammed my finger down on the button. A woman appeared in the scene walking out onto a moss-covered balcony, her deep brown hair flowing down her back, her dress billowing behind her. Softly she spoke and loudly I broke.

Juliet was there, before me, in all her 1968 beauty. Pushing as hard as I could, I hit the off button and ran up the stairs, throwing myself onto my bed. Tightly, I clung to myself, fighting to keep the memories from that day at bay. All around me life was trying to bring them up, to push them into my mind.

Somewhere, it sounded far off, I could hear a phone ringing. Pulling myself together, I reached around, searching for the source of the sound. Finding the phone on the bedside table I answered it, clearing my voice as I coughed out the words.

"Hello?"

"Bells? Did you just wake up?"

"Sure."

"Why don't you come to town, meet me for lunch?"

"I already ate, Charlie."

"Oh, well I guess I'll go alone then."

"Okay." I should have told him that I'd packed him a lunch and that he'd forgot it, but my lungs were already protesting.

"Well, I'll see you tonight then. Bye."

Clicking the off button, I dropped the phone to the floor, the thud ringing loudly in my ears. I waited, knowing soon his face would flash before my eyes, bringing all the pains surging back, but nothing happened. The thought of him stung, but his face wasn't there; it was as though I'd forgotten what he looked like.

Frantic, I searched my mind for some thought of him, some real memory that I could grasp hold of, could be sure was real, but I found nothing. I tried and tried to build his face in my mind, reconstruct his chin, his hair, those golden eyes, but every time I tried, I came up with my own face.

How could this be? He was a thing of beauty, perfect in every way, and I wasn't even close to that. I was plain and simple; my face would never look like his, never go with his, unless I were the same thing he was, and that was never an option. The thing I had once dreamed about becoming would never come true; no matter what I did, that road was closed, and would never reopen.

My whole body was exhausted, drained physically and mentally from trying so desperately to cling to the past. One last time, I tried to see his face, hear his voice, but it was no use.

He was gone.

Forever.

Finally, the tears poured down my cheek, soaking my coverless pillow. Shaking, I pulled a blanket tightly over myself, wrapping it around me like a shield. There was no strength left in me, nothing holding the floodgates back, and I let them come crashing open.

"Edward," I tried, whispering his name at first. "Edward," I called, speaking his name, begging for him to come back. "Edward!" I was screaming his name, trying to cling on as tightly as I could, but it was no use.

I knew this was it; this was the moment I would die. All the pain I'd felt over the last few months would come back, they would all hit me at the same time and it would be too much for my body to handle. It would break me down so far I wouldn't be able to be put back together and my body would finally give in and give up.

Instead, something unexpected happened; everything went dark and my mind shut down. Before I could stop it, before I knew what was happening, I was asleep. And all my old dreams were gone, replaced by new ones, ones that were a thousand times worse, and a thousand times better.

That was the night my future changed.

That was the first night in months that I dreamt of Edward Cullen.