BPOV

The sense of foreboding that had been intensifying exponentially for weeks prior came to a swift fruition when I awoke. The most dreaded of days was upon me; a hawk with outstretched talons headed towards my broken and tender body. Is that not what a birthday is? One more step forced by a disgruntled harpy. Marching to the solemn drumbeat of my empty heart, with every contraction bringing me one step father from him and one closer to merciful oblivion. Sweet fates, perhaps my harpy is an angel? To not be with him is to die and why be conscious of my death? The familiar thought of simply slitting my wrist rose to the forefront of my mind, yet I would not do that to my parents. What then was left, but to suffer a silent death as my lungs filled with cry-less tears, effectively suffocating me?

While I blow-dried my hair I took inventory of myself. Slender for sure, though perhaps too bony and flat. My dull brown waves were in a very simple bob, framing my overly pale and exhausted face. I somehow looked old while being frequently mistaken for one of my high school students. I recoiled from my reflection in disgust. It was no wonder that I was alone and had been alone sense he left me. No, it was only a wonder that at one point I was not alone. I gently traced the bite mark on my wrist; the only proof that anything out of the ordinary had actually happened.

As I dried off my breakfast dishes, I noticed that I had missed two calls, one from Charlie and the other from Jacob. Despite my distaste for birthdays, it was nice to hear from home. Forks seemed a thousand light years away, not the measly five-hundred or so miles that it indeed was. My memories of my home and all that went on in it seemed far off yet never far from my mind. At that moment I would have done well to have them out of mind or I would be late. I promised myself I would call my family back when I got home and shoved a mass amount of paper into my messenger bag.

EPOV

Contrary to our normal routine, we relocated to a new town in the middle of the school year. In the town of our last residence there lived an old woman who claimed to remember us from her girlhood. Fortunately the townsfolk brushed it off as dementia, but one cannot be too careful, so we were off to another monotonous, small town in Oregon.

In truth, I did not care where we were; anywhere without her was my personal hell. My innards had been ripped out and in there wake were dark flames consuming my flesh, though they did not have the kindness to destroy me. I am selfish enough that I would have killed myself, and in the process hurt my poor family, if it were not but a respite from my torture. I had brought my suffering on myself and, worse yet I brought suffering upon Bella, and so I deserved the agony and I would not only bear it, but embrace and revel in it.

The holographic image of my Bella, a constant companion, wore a displeased expression on her angelic face. My Bella did not like me to suffer, though I am sure after my cruelty the Bella who is no longer mine would gain solace in my suffering. The only thing I had ever been able to offer her was suffering in one form or another, yet if I had to do it all over again, I would still want to meet her. One glimpse of my angel's face gave my life meaning. She is the sun around which my world set its course, predestined and unalterable. If I thought for a second that there was the faintest glimmer of hope that she would take me back I would be there in a second, but after what I did to her, there was no going back, no making amends, no absolution for my sins.

I was lost in my self-pity when the sweetest scent filled my lungs; her. Joy, shock, and anxiety filled me to the brim, making me feel like I was alive once again. I knew she would hate me, rightfully so, but I could not resist seeing her one last time.

BPOV

I was taking attendance when I was caught momentarily off guard at having to call out the name of my new student, Edward Graham. It had been five years since my catastrophic eighteenth birthday party; five years since he was mine. I was, unfortunately and I feared permanently, still his in body, mind, and soul. I made a face at how utterly and revoltingly pathetic I had to seem to any sane person and spat out the name just in time to see him walk in, my favorite half-grin on his face.

"My apologies, I seemed to have gotten lost." He said, his voice flowed like honey while his amber eyes implored me, seemingly with regard to more than mere lateness.

I, dazzled, choked out a "That is quite alright."

Sitting himself at the desk nearest me, he watched intently as I stumbled through my lesson on Hamlet. I felt a whirl of intense, though muddled emotions. Most prominently, I felt sick.

When class let out he stayed behind to talk to me. My thoughts erupted in a flurry, my emotions were akin to a rubber band pulled forcefully in opposite directions, and my body acted as if it were on a roller-coaster.

"Bella, Bella." He said in a hushed tone. He raised his hand as if to touch my face, then he dropped it as he took note of my semi-negative reaction.

"Edward." I said with a nod; trying in vain to steel myself to him. My resolve was nearly broken by the look of pain on his face.

"Bella, please, can we talk? Sometime later today?" He said.

"Certainly, I have a lot to say to you. Perhaps you can come by my apartment around six?" I said while writing down directions.

"Thank you." He said and he was gone.