Chapter One: Vacuum.
Graduation.
The day that should have been fateful. The day that would signify a turning point in all of my classmates' lives. I had no particular feelings about graduation, one way or the other. It was just another day. One more day to get through. One more day of clawing at the wall of pain, trying to rescue some feeling, some personality, some semblance of myself. Just another empty day.
I'd lost count of the months that had passed since he left me. But for the clocks ticking by, but for the calendars turning, it could have been a year or it could have been an hour. Time was empty. Everything seemed empty. There was no substance to my existence; I didn't even have the energy to be hollow. My life was a vacuum; there was no room for emotion any more. It was like having the flu; you get to that point where you don't feel uncomfortable any more, just numb, where you can watch your hand turn the page of your book and not feel that it's really you doing it. Indifferent. Detached.
Standing in my bedroom as we were about to leave the house, I heard Charlie call my name. I looked into the mirror one last time. My body seemed flat, almost two-dimensional, in its apathy. My eyes were dead and empty. Even my hair was listless. I would have sighed as I pulled on the polyester robe, but I couldn't gather the motivation. I smushed the cap over my dull hair, stared out the window for a long moment, and headed down the stairs.
Charlie received me more hopefully than usually, giving me a hug and expressing his excitement about my graduation. When he felt my return hug—about as enthusiastic as a cardboard box—I saw worry kindle in his eyes. I must look more uninterested than usual, I realized. Try as I might, I just couldn't seem to care.
"You ready to go?" asked Charlie, his voice cautious, almost tentative.
"Sure. Yeah," I replied in a lifeless voice.
Charlie studied me for a moment. "You all right?" he finally asked me. I bit my lip, considering the question. No, I was not all right. Maybe he thought I'd go into one of my spasms of pain again. There hadn't been any of those in months—not since I'd realized the truth of the matter, that he was never coming back. That was when I had started to extricate every little bit of me with Edward imprinted on it, to completely efface his existence from my memory. To destroy myself bit by bit. I tore away at myself until there was nothing left. But I liked it better that way. I didn't have a high capacity for pain; it was easier, better, to feel nothing at all. But at Charlie's fatherly concern, a little spout of affection bubbled up into my face.
"What kind of question is that?" I asked, attempting a teasing tone, rearranging my muscles into a painful smile.
"I dunno, Bells. Sometimes…Well, I just wish…never mind. You could've, you know…" he looked at me with real pain in his eyes, the pain of a parent who thinks they have failed their child. "Sometimes I think you'd've been better off if you hadn't come here in the first place. Sometimes I think it'd be better if you went away now."
I shuddered. Yup, there was a little bit of annoyance in there too. "No, dad," I whispered with conviction. "We've already had this conversation. I absolutely cannot leave now."
"Well, I just worry…in three months you'll be in Seattle attending college, and what'll happen to you there if you're still like…like this? There's no guarantee you'll be okay…and maybe a change would do you some good. Nothing else seems to help, Bella. Nothing helps! I've tried everything! What do you want me to do?" His voice was louder now, and hoarse with emotion. He looked at me imploringly, no doubt thinking of all his failed attempts at resurrecting my personality—sending me to a shrink (ineffective, as I was unable to tell her anything important without betraying him), dragging me to Hoquiam to visit the Blacks (Jacob's eagerness had been unable to penetrate the protective shell I'd formed by that point, well into spring), even trying to send me to Florida to live with mom. That was where I had drawn the line…
"Dad, we're going to be late," I said tonelessly. Detaching myself to avoid the threat of becoming involved in the conversation. If I did that, it might all come rushing back…
"Okay, let's go," he said sadly. "I won't argue this any more. I just…"
"I know. Really, though, we have about five minutes to get there."
Charlie sighed and led the way out the door. As we entered the cruiser (I let him drive me now, I didn't care), I thought I saw a flash of something near the forest, but I couldn't be sure.
The preparations passed quickly, and I soon found myself walking robotically toward the cheap brown podium, preparing to take my diploma from a smiling assistant principal. I barely remembered to force a smile, I was trying so hard to stop my imagination running away with me. My mind was fixated on suppressing the vivid images I had…Images of him in the crowd, so clear I almost felt like I could hear is soft cheer, a whisper drowning beneath the layers of screams, a sigh from an insubstantial ghost. I shook my head a little, trying to shake off the cloud of feeling hovering over me.
Charlie insisted on taking me out to dinner. We went to the nicest restaurant in town, Charlie's favorite place for steak. I ordered, waited, and ate my whole burger without tasting it—almost resembling a normal human, from the outside. But I couldn't remember the last time I'd bothered to savor my food. Most of the time I was too busy trying to convince myself that there was a point in eating.
"Bella, honey, are you ready to go?" Charlie asked. He hadn't remarked on how quiet I'd been at dinner; he was used to it by now.
"Yeah," I replied, gathering my coat and putting it on. I followed him through the twilit parking lot and slid into the passenger seat of the cruiser, bland and silent as usual.
When we got home, I told Charlie I needed time alone. He understood, of course; When didn't I? I entered my room, sat on the bed, and stared out the window again. I forced myself to be empty, forced myself not to let all the memories that that window held return. Memories of his face, appearing night after night in the frame of that window. Memories of his cold arms around me as he sang my lullaby…
I sighed softly, knowing I couldn't let those memories return, wanting to relive them more than anything. Frustrated, I pulled off my red sweater and khaki skirt, threw on my pajamas, and got in bed. I tossed and turned for a moment, wondering impatiently why I couldn't just lay there silently, why sleep wouldn't come to me. It occurred to me that the light was still on. I got up, stormed over to the light switch, flicked it violently, and stumbled off to bed in the dark.
I lay there stiffly, contemplating whether to turn some relaxing music on. No, no music, I decided. Music was just another reminder.
The wind howling against the windowpanes made me restless, played tricks on my mind. The violent sound of the rain splattering against the vinyl siding of the house wasn't exactly relaxing either. My mind wandered at top speed, everything I'd been repressing broiling under the surface. I knew there would be no sleep for me tonight. Rather than leave my mind to its own devices in the dark, I turned the light back on and picked up Wuthering Heights. However, after a moment I grew tired of Cathy's shallow selfishness and Heathcliff's outright villainy. I slammed the book down, frustrated that I couldn't distract myself fully. I propped my head against the pillow and lay back, my muscles uncomfortable and burning to move. I fidgeted and twitched, trying my very best not to think.
I tried not to think, but the memories kept coming, and soon I couldn't help myself. I found myself trapped in my own mind, replaying everything I had lost. It was vivid in my memory; every touch, every kiss, every glimpse of his golden eyes stood out above all else. I found myself staring into the yellow light of the street lamp outside, thinking that was nothing compared to that butterscotch glow…
Then I couldn't help myself. My voice was bursting to feel his name again.
"Edward?" I whispered, searching. It was amazing how those two little syllables rang with significance, how they filled my head and took over my thoughts. I knew I was going to regret this. I knew the pain would return with a vengeance, worse than every before. But at the moment, I didn't care. I closed my eyes and savored the sound of his name.
Then, a miracle occurred…an answering whisper, so soft I could never have heard it if I hadn't been listening with my whole soul. Even though it had been eight months since I'd last heard it, even though it was so low now that there was no way I could be certain…I knew for a fact that this was the voice I'd been waiting to hear. And I knew it was real.
"Bella?" came the breath, soft and sweet and sad and pain-riddled. It couldn't be, I thought to myself. And yet, I couldn't help it; my whole being cried out to find the source of that voice.
I bolted upright, all thoughts gone from my head. That voice…I looked around…no, it couldn't be…
But it was. His face appeared out of the shadows, bringing everything rushing back. In that one moment, the moment I saw his face again, I felt everything I'd put off for the past…too many months. It was like being dumped headfirst into a pool of deep, cold water after spending a year in the desert. There was a sudden clarity, a burst of feeling. I felt ragged, I felt whole, I felt like imploding and exploding all at the same time. I felt that I could fill the whole world with my joy, and at the same time I felt horribly, crushingly, heart-breakingly sad. The universe could have collapsed and I wouldn't have noticed, because he was there. Tangibly, beyond shadow of a doubt, Edward Cullen was right in front of me.
"Bella," he whispered again. He seemed to be testing the words, tasting them on his lips. "Isabella Swan." His face was apprehensive, almost scared, as if he wasn't quite sure why he was there. Like it was wrong of him to be there.
And I didn't care, at that moment, what he was there for. Edward filled my mind, occupied my soul, eclipsed any sense of self or surroundings that I might have had. I should have called his name. I should have asked him why he was there. Instead, all I could think of was jumping out of bed and running into his cold embrace.
His arms were waiting. I touched his marble skin, smelled his unbearably sweet breath, and felt like a human again.
"Edward," I said, pronouncing his name as carefully as he had mine. I looked up into his face and lost control; it was all I could do not to let out a squeal of joy. "You're home!" I hugged him tighter, and he buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. He sighed.
"Without a doubt," his beautiful, wonderful, velvety voice said with conviction. "This is home."
A/N: Before you review, remember—this is based on the idea that Bella never went to Port Angeles with Jessica, therefore never hearing Edward's voice. Which means she never bought the motorcycles. Which means she never went to see Jacob. This is an AU, and though I'm starting in character, they will develop slightly differently. Please keep that in mind.
