Dangerous Dream
A day inside the head of Bella Swan. Because not all of us have the real thing.
A one-shot I wrote for a contest on Twilighted (and it was one of the winners).
Its written so it could be a chapter from the December after Edward leaves Bella in New Moon.
Disclaimer: I'm not even going to attempt to claim I own anything except the idea. The other stuff belongs to their respective owners, which in this case is probably Stephenie Meyer.
Reviews are lovely!!
Thanks, Only By The Night.
Behind my closed eyes, the well known dream played out again. You couldn't really call it a dream. A dream is usually pleasant, and what I was witnessing was anything but. If I was being totally meticulous, it was much worse than a nightmare, despite not being "cliché". It never failed to make an appearance. I knew what would happen, and I had no way to stop it. I just had to wait. It would be over soon.
My ear-piercing scream was muffled by the pillow, but it was still loud enough to be heard down the hall in my father's bedroom. It was just the same as the last night. And the night before it. Every night would be the same now. I had a nightly routine. Sleep, nightmare, scream, repeat.
I could feel my body trembling, but I was not cold. Despite it being the depth of winter and in Forks, Washington nonetheless-the house was warm and comfortable. A drastic change to the cold arms I had once become accustomed to.
I lay face down-the pillow wet from the tears which had fallen whilst I attempted sleeping- as I waited for Charlie to get up to check on me, like he usually would. I could hear him sighing as he pushed open my bedroom. I could imagine the twisted expression of pain that would be on his face. I knew it well as I would get a quick glance at it every time Charlie saw my vacant expression, before he could hide it from me. I felt awful, for waking Charlie up each morning with a blood-curdling scream that I had no control over but also for subjecting him to…this. To me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt anyone else. Just because I was suffering, I didn't need to make the people around me unhappy, too. The door shut again with a quiet click.
I rolled over and wiped away the last remnants of the nights' tears from under my eyes to stare at the somehow mocking clock.
5.48am. The green light let me know that it was December 25th. Christmas morning.
100 days since he left.
I wouldn't dare to try and sleep again. I knew better than to even hope the nightmare wouldn't take place. With that thought still rolling around in my head, I slowly got out of my bed and made my way to the window. I slowly lifted my hand, and ran my fingertips softly down the window frame, barely touching it. Looking out, I let my eyes adjust to the canvas of white. Snow. I couldn't say I was surprised. There had been snow every day for the past month. But I knew I would put up with it, and Forks.
I stood motionless as I gazed out of the window, hand still raised. I wasn't thinking of the tree in Charlie's front yard that my eyes bore holes into, but of someone. And that was dangerous if I had any intentions to cook Charlie's Christmas dinner, and not break down completely. I tried my hardest not to think about him, and I was getting better at it. But my mind often slipped. It was just too painful to remember that he didn't want to be with me anymore. I'm sure my face crumpled as I remembered that bitter truth.
I was determined not to mope about it, however, in a hope I could try to enjoy the festivities. I pivoted, and walked towards the door, not taking a second glance at the window which had become his. Just like my heart and soul. There was no changing that, try as he might.
I made my way to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. I didn't want to surrender to the tears, but the aching and nagging burn at the back of my throat told me I would have no say in the matter. I removed my night clothes with an unnecessary sigh and climbed under the fall of warm water. I don't know how long I stood there or how long it took for the tears to start. A loud, screeching noise manifested over the sound of the shower, causing my tortured sobs to cease, or at least quieten. It then dawned on me that the shrill, strangled sounds were coming from me, and not, in fact, the shower.
It will be as if I'd never existed, his promise echoed through my head.
Remembering his promise only spurred on the agonised cries of distress. How could…he- I could not manage to even mutter the six letter name- even think of promising such a thing. I knew then-and now- that I could and would not forget such an important part of my life. He is the reason I didn't die in Phoenix when I ran-well, running is an overstatement. When I 'stumbled with style' off to face a thirsty vampire. He is my reason for living. He is my life. I'm just not his…
I just about noticed when the water turned colder, and I was brought back to the harsh reality which was now my life. I needed to pretend for Charlie today. I would not ruin his Christmas over this.
I shut off the shower, and grabbed a towel as I stepped out of the shower. The contrast in temperatures alerted me as I stalked off to my bedroom, refusing to even look in the mirror at my reflection. I didn't need to see the physical effect this ordeal was having over me, as well as the mental. I didn't need a mirror to prove that my eyes had dulled, since the most beautiful things they had ever seen left me behind.
I stood in front of my open wardrobe pondering over my outfit choice. How would Charlie react if I showed up downstairs in my sweat pants and baggy hoodie, which had almost become a second skin to me in the last few months. With a forfeiting sigh, I pulled out a pair of dark wash jeans and a white blouse-purposely dodging the blue blouse I wore when I…
With a violent shake of my head, I swiftly got changed and ventured back to the bathroom to tame my hair which had almost air dried. I robotically took care of my mother human needs and a pang or pain tore through the shield on numbness I had managed to create at the slight reminder of the others that roamed this world.
Slumping down the stairs with a lessened-of an already frivolous- enthusiasm, I made my way into the living room, where Charlie was standing next to the Christmas tree, looking out of the window.
The tree was a perfect metaphor of how I felt. It was not particularly healthy-looking, but green enough to serve its purpose. It was poorly disguised with gaudy decorations, but not through lack of effort.
Seeing the decorations that I remembered from my childhood Christmases in Forks brought back a surge of emotions, which I had not felt in what seemed an eternity. Charlie, still unaware of my presence turned to the tree, and picked up a small wooden tree of the pads of his fingertips. It was a decoration I had made for him, when I was four. I painted it myself, and covered it with sequins and glitter. I thought I saw a small smile appear on Charlie's face, followed by a look of sadness. I realised I was the reason for this.
"Happy Christmas, Dad.", I whispered from my spot, still in the doorway, in a barely audible voice.
With a quick spin where he stood, Charlie slowly paced over to me, and stopped just short of my feet.
"Bells?", he questioned.
I tried to force a smile, but it came out feeble. The tears were beginning to build up behind my eyes, so I gave him a small nod. He brought me into his arms and hugged me close. This urged my tears closer to the edge, and a solemn tear rolled down my cheek.
As a general rule, Charlie and I rarely showed our true emotions, so this moment meant a lot. To both of us.
"Happy Christmas, Bella.", he spoke into my head.
I sniffed back my tears and said, albeit in a rather monotonous voice, "Okay, I should start cooking." With that, I walked off into the kitchen, glancing backwards to see Charlie giving me an encouraging smile. My smile was a second too late, as he turned around and sat down in his chair.
Conversation over the meal was scarce, not that we usually spoke much whilst eating. After we were done, Charlie helped me to tidy up the leftovers, and praised my culinary skills. We washed the dishes together, and I could tell Charlie was attempting to make me feel better. I was grateful, even though he was not particularly successful in his goal. Him helping just left me with more time where I wouldn't have anything to do-and I tried to avoid spare time at all costs.
Later, when Charlie gave me my present, I didn't know what to expect. I was difficult to buy for before I stopped doing the things that reminded me of him. But I don't know if Charlie had seen me throw out my CD's, and I'm not sure he would even know what type of book to get me. So when I opened the paper and saw the small black box, I was truly surprised. Upon opening it, Charlie called out quietly, "It was your Grandma Swan's."
"Ch-Dad, its…", I didn't know what to say as I looked at the fragile silver chain and oval shaped locket, "Thank you."
"She would have wanted you to have it, Bells. The inside is, uh, empty, though." The last part he said in a whisper.
I looked up at him, and I was sure my face would have been expressionless, despite my efforts to seem otherwise. That fact was a harsh reminder that I couldn't put a photograph in something so close to my heart, when I didn't know where my heart really was anymore.
My coherent thoughts turned off at some point after that. I wasn't sure what was really going on around me, as Charlie and I both watched-or so he believed-Christmas programming. I was sure Charlie would rather be watching sports, but he persisted with it, I assume, to make me want to stay there, and not disappear elsewhere. If I was 100 percent there, it would have meant so much more to me at the time.
At some point, the phone started to ring, and Charlie got up to answer it. I unconsciously made no attempts to move from my position of staring at the television screen, not taking in anything that was being said by the people who may or may not be moving around on the screen. I could vaguely hear Charlie's gruff 'Hello' followed by a small cough. I tried to pay attention to what was going on in the kitchen, and I was sure nothing was being said, rather than I was hearing nothing. Charlie repeated his greeting, and I could detect a trace of anger in his voice.
"I'm hanging up now. Goodbye.", he almost shouted, and forcefully put the phone back into the receiver
When he came back in he mumbled, "You would think that kids would know better than to crank call the Chief of Police, of all people. And it wasn't even a good crank call. They didn't even say anything. Just a sigh, and then they hung up."
My brain hadn't really registered what Charlie had just said, but I nodded. At least I think I did. My mind had wandered, but I didn't know where. My thoughts were blank as I tried to make sense of my life. I felt sorry for Charlie having to be in my-almost- company.
Getting up without saying a word, I slowly walked out the room, and up the stairs. When I reached my room I walked over to the window. I looked out and it was snowing. But instead of being repulsed like I normally would, the snow looked…comforting. Looking at the clock, I realised just how much of the day had passed. It turned out, not that much. It was only 4.17pm but it had already got quite dark.
That's when I decided to go outside. The fresh air might help my thoughts to come back. When I went back downstairs, I realised I should inform Charlie of my actions. When I did, I could tell he was surprised-as much as he tried to act nonchalant. I didn't go out anymore. Exceptions were school, work and going to the shop.
I pulled on my jacket and some winter boots, and called a goodbye to Charlie, the volume of which I am unsure of. As I stepped outside, a breeze of chilling and remarkably calming air hit my face, and sent my hair flying around me. I stepped off the balcony and-carefully-walked down the hidden pathway. As I did, I could hear something in the background. I tried my hardest to focus on the noise, and came to the conclusion it was local children out carol singing.
I remembered when I once went carol singing with Renné, back when I was living in Phoenix. We weren't very good, but we were having fun. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, and started to walk along the sidewalk in no particular direction.
Or so I thought.
Before I could do much about it, I had reached the edge of the forest. I hadn't been in the forest since Sam found me that night. It was too close to my recurring nightmare, and it would make things so much more real. Bring them to life. That's why I was so annoyed at myself when my feet took me further into the darkness of the forest. I couldn't see any particular path, all I could see was the snow, and the way my feet compacted it down with each stupid step I took further and further into my nightmare.
In ever darkening canopy of shadow from overhead I started to feel uneasy, and so I came to a halt. Where I was standing looked strangely familiar, even though all the trees looked the same.
At that moment my thoughts returned, but they were forbidden thoughts. I remembered what he said, how he acted. How he left.
"Bella, I don't want you to come with me."
"You…don't…want me?"
"No."
"You're not good for me, Bella."
"I promise that this will be the last time you see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without anymore interference from me. It will be as if I never existed."
It will be as if I never existed.
As if I never existed.
A tortured scream clawed its way out of my chest and through my throat. I fell to my knees and I began to cry hysterically. I never meant for this to happen to me, but I was unable to control myself. My hands were hidden by the snow, and were freezing. My whole body was shivering from the cold. But I couldn't find the strength to care. I looked upwards into the tree tops, and snowflakes fell onto my saltwater tears, melting at the contact. I was oblivious to my surroundings as another shriek of-what one would assume as agony-rippled through me.
I fell onto my side, and my hands tangled themselves in my hair, tugging at it in pointless distress, the cold making the pain more intense. But I felt nothing except a tearing pain deep inside. The white around me turned into the deepest shade of black and I didn't know if my eyes were open or closed. It didn't matter at that moment.
I don't know how long I might have stayed there-in a foetal position- but a layer of snow started to settle upon my raised side. I was making myself ill by staying there, and I knew that I should move, but I couldn't find the power inside of myself to rise. The tears continued to fall, unfaltering, as I realised something.
I was in pain because of what I was thinking. And what I was thinking was bad. What if I thought of good things. I'd still be in agony, but…it would be worth it. Wouldn't it? Even to imagine things were not as they seemed to be. Wouldn't that be much better than reliving the worst moments of my life? I know I'd rather suffer being happier than going through this.
The idea of living precious moments-albeit fantasy ones-with…him-I still wouldn't say his name-gave me enough strength to sit up. I pulled my hands from my hair, my scalp stinging- I didn't realise I had still been pulling on my hair. The loud sobs had turned into quieter tears, and I wiped under my eyes. Sniffing, I slowly rose up off of the ground, and grabbed onto the closest thing to me for support.
I blinked rapidly in an attempt to become aware of my surroundings, and I then realised it had gotten much darker. The thought of that I was causing more upset to Charlie than was necessary gave me determination, and I stumbled back through the trees. I hadn't been so deep in the forest that I could see the faint glow of the streetlights, and soon I emerged back onto the street. Soon I was leaning against the inside of Charlie's door. Remembering that my face would give me away, I rushed towards the stairs.
"Bella? Where were you?"
"I…uh. I went to see the town Christmas tree.", I lied, continuing: "I'm going to bed, Ch--Dad. I'm kind of tired. Goodnight."
I thought he was going to say something, but I'm sure he just sighed and returned to his chair. My thoughts became more coherent as I quickly walked up the stairs. I knew what I was going to do to myself by allowing such thoughts: I was going to make things worse than they really needed to be. But I needed to see him and I didn't really care how.
Once I reached my bedroom, I removed all of my wet clothes and pulled on a pair of old sweats and a fluffy hoodie. I was walking over to my bed when I paused next to the window. I shut my eyes and allowed my imagination, and memory to bring up an image of the best Christmas present I could imagine. Dishevelled bronze hair and all. A stabbing pain hit the centre of my chest, and so I walked over to my bed.
Once I was under the covers-wrapped in a cocoon of duvet, I shut my eyes tight and let my mind wander. I allowed this dangerous dream to take place-whatever the consequences.
I was lying alone in my bed, staring out of the window. As I blinked, a tear rolled down my cheek. In that blink I missed something significant.
"Bella?"
I gasped and frantically looked around to find the source of the velvet voice which could make my heart stutter.
"Bella, what's the matter?", the voice continued.
Soon I was being help my the coldest, and most wonderful feeling arms I had ever known. The voice whispered in my ear, cool breath rushing past and sending a shiver down my spine: "Bella…"
I closed my eyes and slowly turned around to face the velvet voice. I hid my face deep into the crook of his neck.
"Bella, look at me." the voice demanded in a gentle tone. A hand reached to stroke my jaw.
And who was I to disobey such a melodious voice?
I slowly raised my head, eyes still closed. When I opened them, I was met with the clearest topaz colored eyes which showed genuine concern for my wellbeing.
"What is wrong? Please tell me, Bella. I can't stand seeing you cry.", he pleaded.
"You're….here? You didn't leave me?", I asked, my voice quavering.
"Oh, Bella.", he pulled me closer than I thought possible to him, "I love you too much to leave you. I couldn't leave you."
With a content sigh and a sniff, I replied, "I love you, too."
With a faint chuckle, and my favourite crooked grin, he whispered, "Happy Christmas, Bella."
"Happy Christmas…Edward."
And then he lowered his head to my level, and kissed me.
I had allowed this dangerous dream to take place. I knew what the consequences would be. And I didn't regret a minute of it.
Thanks for reading!