Okay guys, this is my first fanfic. If you like it, review please. If I feel that no one really likes reading the story, I'll close it, but tell me what you think.
All Twilight characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. Because I own nothing. Except a wild imagination, and an urge to twist her characters a little.
This story begins a week after Edward breaks up with Bella in New Moon. She acts a little differently in this story, and so does Edward.
BPOV
A week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10080 minutes.
That was the last time I had ever felt any emotion other than pain. For the past week, I had just moped around the house, staring into space, remembering better times, and wincing in pain when I did.
Of course, as I thought about it, I had just totally set myself up for this. I knew he couldn't have loved me for very long, if at all. It wasn't like I knew it would be like that forever.
Still, I couldn't help but desperately wish. When he had left, I hadn't just lost my life. I lost my best friend, my family, the future that I had chosen for myself.
But wishing wasn't going to get me anywhere. In fact, it probably hurt me a lot more then it helped me. I knew I needed to get over it, but I couldn't even think his name without nearly blacking out in the sheer agony that ripped across my chest.
As I walked down the hallway to the cafeteria, I could feel the difference when people looked at me. They stared, almost scared to make a sound, in fear that I would break into endless tears, and have a panic attack. No one, save for Angela, talked to me anymore.
But I had no more tears. Now, I just let the pain eat away inside me. To be strong. To not let anyone see me cry. Of course, I still had nightmares, and woke up sobbing hysterically in the middle of the night.
Entering the cafeteria, I could sense immediately that something was wrong. Jessica, Mike, Tyler, Eric, Ben, all the people that sat at my table were avoiding eye contact with me. Sitting down next to Angela, I turned to her. But she, too, had an uncomfortable look in her eye, and refused to look at me. \
I sat in silence for a few minutes, and then, when time dragged on, I finally broke. Turning to face Angela, I immediately questioned her.
"What's wrong?"
Staring at a dirty scuff of dirt on the side of her shoe, Angela shifted uncomfortably. Finally, she spoke. "Well, I'm sure your dad told you about the house, right?" She emphasized the word the, as if it meant something of extreme significance.
"What house?" I frowned.
"Um, you know, the Cullen house." Angela cringed, as if she knew the name would send me into a full scale panic attack.
And she was right. The name sent a searing pain down the middle of my chest, and I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, to keep from falling apart. When I could finally breathe again, I croaked out, "What about it?"
Angela gave me a look, as if to say, "I'm not fooled." But she answered me. "Its going to be sold."
I squeezed my eyes shut, and I willed my heart to steady itself. But the thought of someone, anyone, other than them buying the house, living in the house, in his room, was already too much.
I curled into myself, clenching my fists, and gritting my teeth, trying to fight off the image that was in my mind. How could anyone live in that house? It was their house. His house. The reality set in. The house was to be sold. They weren't ever coming back. Ever. He wasn't coming back. I would never see him again. The last shred of hope that I had desperately clung on to drifted away, like a wisp of smoke, away, up into the sky.
Whimpering at the pain of the knowledge, I could faintly hear in the background all of my friends gathering around me, trying to decide what was wrong, and what to do. But I couldn't tell them. They would never understand. No one would understand, not ever, the pain and suffering that I was going through. No one would ever know, because no one had ever truly loved, like I had. No one had had the chance to spend time with an angel, with something far greater than I, or anyone, had ever dreamed of. A few short months, but the best of my life, I was sure. I wished for more, but if it made him happy, then I would be strong. For him. For Edward.
Already, his name cut like a sharp knife into my mind. Memories came flooding out, like a river, like a flood. I was knocked flat on my back, as they rushed over me, smothering me.
"You don't want me?"
"No."
"No."
"No."
The word echoed in my head, surrounding me. As I tried to escape, press my hands over my ears, I sobbed. I knew I wasn't good enough for him. I knew it. I always knew it. Knew I would never be enough, never be pretty enough, never be smart enough, or kind enough. Never be enough for an angel that wanted and deserved so much more.
I didn't blame him at all for leaving. But why, oh please why, did he have to leave this pain, this empty abyss, with me? When would it fill again? When would I be able to hear his name, and not feel this misery, this torture?
Screaming, I could feel myself hitting the floor, and hitting my head. Strangely enough, the only pain I felt was the pain inside my brain.
"No."
"NO."
"NO!"
As the voices grew louder, as they became more insistent and shrill, as my body shook with the anguish that it was going through, until I couldn't stand it anymore, I gave up. Letting go, I welcomed the blackness with open arms. Succumbing to the blackness, I felt nothing.