Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga, it belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do own any grammar mistakes, and the right to warn you that this involves violence, mentions of rape, and a few heavy things. Do not read if you're under the age of sixteen.
It was dark, the moon and stars veiled by thick and weighted clouds. They stretched across the sky, dipping low enough to spread fog across the streets. I could see my breath as I stumbled down the sidewalk, itching to claw at my skin.
The face of my attacker would forever be engrained within the caves of my mind. I could feel his calloused skin rub against my flesh, his breath at my ear as he whispered everything he did. I remembered each word, every action, every feeling.
Six months hadn't been long enough to wait before attempting to walk at night. I was assaulted all over again by a ghost.
Burrowing my chin and mouth further into my scarf, I squinted past the fog and searched for a landmark. My apartment was a mile from my work—a mile I had trekked many times before. I knew the pavement like the back of my hand. But this time it was different.
As I approached the spot where my world began to unravel, I could feel my body shudder as image after image flooded my mind. I couldn't erase that night, those memories.
I hoped that facing it head on instead of running away in fear would help me shut the door on my attack and move on with my life. I had lost everything because the man chose to rape me.
My fiancée, my mental stability, my confidence, my hopes, my dreams, my life; all ripped away from me.
Blinking away the tears that never failed to fall when I thought about what my life used to be, I felt for the can of pepper spray I kept in my coat pocket. The metal was cool against my fingers, giving me a false sense of security.
I was never safe.
Keeping my focus straight ahead, I listened as my foot falls echoed like whispered voices. I knew the weather was playing tricks on my mind—easing me into paranoia. My pace quickened, my eyes darted from left to right. I could feel the anxiety creep up my spine, tightening my stomach.
I can't do this.
Ripping my hand from my pocket, I forced my feet to move faster. I couldn't walk past any of this; it was all too much. Pounding my sneaker-clad feet onto the sidewalk, I willed myself to run faster and faster.
Buildings passed in a blur, my eyes blurring as the cold air stung them without mercy. I couldn't see where I was going—but I knew I was getting away from the memories.
It all happened so fast.
One minute I was fleeing from the ghost chasing me, and the next I was flying. A car's horn blared, a crash, my body sliding down cold metal and landing with a thud against the road.
And then I could see myself lying on the ground, ivory lids closed. My chest wasn't moving, my right leg twisted at an odd angle. Blood whispered from a large gash on my forehead, down my pale cheek like thick tears.
"Oh my god," a female voice screamed, throwing the driver door open and screaming louder as it bounced back at her. I looked between her and myself, unsure of how I could see us both.
Raising my hands, I stared at my solid form. I could move, I could breathe… but the me on the ground wasn't moving at all.
"Edward, oh my god! Oh my god!"
A second pair of feet appeared as the passenger door flew open, a mess of reddish-brown hair appearing as a lanky body stood to its full height and raced around the car, falling to his knee's and hovering his hands over my body.
I watched the scene in confusion, so uncertain of why there was two of me.
It wasn't until he reached two slim fingers up to my neck and pressed against my skin that I realized what was going on.
I was dying.
In that second, I wanted nothing more than to feel the constraints of my life to release. I wanted to be free of the memories, the hands, the voices, and the ghost.
Lunging for the man, I pulled and tugged at his shoulders, trying in vain to pull him away from my body. I screamed and begged—pleaded for him to let me die.
But my actions, my words, they all fell on deaf ears.
They couldn't see me.
The woman fluttered her hands over my body, mascara running down her face as tears flooded her eyes. She kept chanting 'oh my god', her chest wracking with sobs as the man—Edward, she had said—began CPR.
Each chest compression hit me like a six ton weight. I struggled for my own air as my body found none. Each exhale of breath from Edward's lungs entered mine full force; drowning me.
Still, my body laid unmoving on the concrete, blood thickening in my brown hair.
I could see my skin losing its color, its life.
I could feel my form begin to wane.
"No, don't you die on me!"
Please, let me go.
Harder, faster, he pressed down on my chest, his body shaking with the force as he tried valiantly to save my life.
But can you save someone who doesn't want to live?
Was this really how I wanted to go? Did I want to spend my last day on earth running from the man who had broken me? Did I want to allow him to steal me away completely?
The questions assaulted me, leaving me to clutch my head and gasp for air as Edward continued to try to breathe life into my lungs.
How was I supposed to live after what he had done? Could I survive living in fear every day, wondering when the man would turn up again and finish me off?
No, could I really live again after tonight?
Watching as two strangers tried in vain to save my life—even after the woman had called nine-one-one and collapsed beside my body in tears—I knew the answer.
Edward compressed my chest one last time, leaning down to place his lips over my parted one, and exhaled.
And everything went black.
A/N: I know cliffhangers are a biznatch, but Bella decided to end it there, and I wasn't going to force her any further. I'd love to know what you think her decision was. And I do hope you liked it. I know my writing has been on the heavy topics side lately. But I like merging realism and supernatural things. Or just writing realism.
Much love,
Beloved