I Can Feel Your Pain

by dreamy delta

And I ran off, and ran on to something that I swore was everything but beautiful. I only use that word for you. A Jacob Black analytical piece. No warnings.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

Author's Note: This song, I Can Feel Your Pain by Manchester Orchestra, almost brought me to tears. This story, did too. I'm always about analyzing Jacob. And this right here is some of the best I think I've done with it. I hope you do as well. Review Revolution! -Delta

I Can Feel Your Pain

Her face, it haunts me.

I imagine her human and beautiful, cheeks full of vitality and embarrassment. That smile I fell in love with, that beautiful smile that brought out the dimple in her chin, the sparkle in her chocolate brown eyes.

But now it's time, the clock has been ticking it down for months now, I just refused to listen.

Now all I see are graveyards and Charlie dressed in a suit, and Renee with his handkerchief under her eyes and an empty casket for us all to admire.

And then I see her.

Pale and lifeless, cold and heartless. I imagine blood red eyes in the face I once loved. The face I still loved.

Would it still be that same face? Would she still be Bella?

Did I even care anymore?

I can't lie to myself. But right now, as she sits locked up in that fancy house, I can almost feel her transform.

She told me briefly what it was supposed to be like, in a moment when I let friendship be friendship she explained the fire and the pain. And if I were ever to be in her situation, I know it would feel like this.

Skin turns to ash, the taste of it in my mouth. I feel it lick up my insides, eating me away.

I wonder if she feels this way too.

I wonder if it's started, or if it's almost done.

I want to call Charlie to ask but I'm almost afraid, I'm afraid of what he might say, afraid of what already might be.

What in the hell was I supposed to do anyways?

She didn't think about me in this instance.

And now, I can't stop thinking about her.

But the fire tears me down, it breaks me apart and I'm barely coherent.

I let it take me this time, I don't dare fight it anymore.

I let it eat me away, excruciatingly slow, and I hope that after it's done, I'll be gone.

Nothing but ash blowing in the Olympic Wind.

One can only hope for as much.

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