Disclaimer: I do not own characters – they are property of Stephenie Meyer.
She finally awoke from yet another long night of nightmares. Nightmares where she searched and searched, until that final moment of realization that there was nothing left to search for. The only thing that mattered had left. Edward had been out of her life for 15 years now. But somehow she still could not accept that fact.
She struggled to find some motivation to get out of bed, as she did every morning. Charlie had died several years earlier, and she didn't feel much need to do anything with her life. But the bills had to be paid, and the welfare check wasn't due for another couple of weeks.
She still worked at Newton's sports store, as she had since before it happened. Before he had left, before her world was shattered. The income wasn't great, but at least she didn't have a family that she had to support. Even if she wanted to marry, nobody had or would ever try to break past her anti-social barrier that she had unconsciously put up.
She dragged herself to her bathroom to clean up. It felt odd, still living in this same house…it still held too many painful reminders, but she was too masochistic to move out and away from them. Nor did she have the money to.
She stared at herself in the mirror for several dragging moments. Her mouth was plastered in its usual frown, her eyes curiously dead. She was as pale as ever – if not paler. She had lost too much weight since it happened, she was a mere 105 pounds. She remembered that first week after he had left, how the doctors had told Charlie she was possibly catatonic.
Her hair was streaked with gray, too early for a normal person. She was only 32, yet there were already deep lines on her face, making her appear to always be tired, worn out. She was no longer the beauty she had once been. Time had stripped her of nearly everything she had, and so many things she loved.
Her skin glowed with an unhealthy gray tint, she hardly ever saw the sun – she didn't even bother to go outside on those rare sunny days in Forks. Her eyes were also gray – no longer the choclaty-brown color that he had loved. Perhaps so many tears had simply drained the color from them.
Her health was bad, she had several forms of cancer, but no money for treatment. Her conditions didn't bother her, she wasn't afraid to die. She had no fears left, now that he was gone. No fears but one – to forget. To think about him was too painful, but she always kept him on the edge of her conscious mind.
She forbade herself to remember, but was terrified to forget.