October 4

Dear Journal,

I've noticed recently that my clothes are fitting looser than they used to. Of course I haven't really had an appetite since his departure. Renee always said that I did have a finicky stomach – as soon as something bothered me, food was the last thing I wanted.

Granted, I hadn't really ever gone this many days without eating a proper meal. Every once in a while my stomach would growl, but I know from past experiences that food and emotions don't always go well together.

When I was ten years old, my best friend from next door moved to California. We both cried as we hugged each other goodbye, promising that we'd write and stay in touch. That night, I couldn't eat. Renee got some takeout food, hoping that it might spike my appetite, but I went to bed with an empty stomach. The next morning, Renee successfully made scrambled eggs. I was hungry, but as soon as I put a forkful in my mouth, my gag reflex kicked in. I was so upset by her leaving that it took me four days to be able to eat anything again. I can't imagine that this situation would be any different. I got by, though.

I continued to make Charlie his meals on most nights. He knew spaghetti was one of my favorites and when he suggested I make a batch for dinner one night, I did it to appease him. I knew that he wanted more than anything for me to regain my appetite and eat a full plate, but I couldn't manage more than a couple forkfuls of the saucy noodles and a couple bites of bread before I dragged myself back upstairs. I was more upset at wasting good food than Charlie was for me not eating. I tried, I really tried, for Charlie's sake, but I figured that eating on my upset stomach and depositing it into the toilet later would be more upsetting than me not eating at all. He doesn't pressure me to eat, though. He hasn't said that I'm not eating enough and for that, I'm grateful.

October 9

Dear Journal,

I guess I wrote too soon about Charlie not pressuring me about my non-existent food intake. I was in my room when Charlie came home from work this afternoon. I eyed my bookshelf, wanting nothing more than to pick one out and dive in, but I just couldn't do it. Not yet. The last thing I wanted was to pick up a romance novel and be reminded of what I had with Edward.

When I finally did decide that I should go greet Charlie, he was pulling something out of the microwave. It did smell good, but without a doubt nausea rolled my stomach and a light sweat broke out on my arms and neck. It was a blueberry muffin and he explained that one of his co-workers' wives sent breakfast with her husband to the station and there were leftovers. Charlie then got the margarine out of the fridge and placed it on the table. He then told me that I had to eat at least half before returning to my room.

A panic settled over me. I searched my mind for an excuse; I debated on whether or not to tell him about the dangerous combination my stomach and emotions can be. He just didn't understand that I couldn't manage anything right now. I thought about telling him that my appetite would return in time, but I couldn't stare into his face and lie to him like that. I started to protest before he cut me off. He said that he saw me go without eating long enough and it had to stop. I guess Charlie could see the stubbornness in me coming out, because he actually threatened to take me to the hospital and have someone hook me up to an IV if I didn't change. Knowing that I was deathly afraid of needles actually proved to be useful to Charlie. My eyes actually welled with tears. I'd never been forced into eating anything I didn't want in my whole life. Why couldn't it stay that way?

Charlie then sat down at the table, apparently letting me know that he was serious. The last thing in the world that I wanted was to hurt him. This household already had one member with a broken heart; it certainly didn't need another. I knew that Charlie was only doing this because he was worried about me, but forcing me to eat something I didn't want wasn't going to help the situation at all. Weighing my options, I figured that the worse that could happen at this point would be gagging on it if I tried to eat some of it. Being taken to the hospital against my will and having an IV inserted into my arm was something I definitely wanted to avoid at all costs.

I filled a glass with water from the sink, knowing that I was going to need as much assistance as I could get if I had any hope of eating anything. I sat down at the table and saw my hand shake as I slowly reached for half of the muffin. Charlie would never let me talk him out of doing this. It would be no use to even try to walk away from the situation now. We had never had a shouting match and I preferred to keep it that way.

I took a small bite and chewed, trying to swallow down my nauseous spell and calm my nervous stomach. I avoided Charlie's gaze at all costs and I hated that it got to the point where he needed to watch me eat just to make sure that I was. I have to admit that it tasted great, but the taste wasn't the problem. It was the flips and tumbles my stomach was doing as I chewed. Anxiety and food for me didn't mix well. You can do this, I mentally repeated to myself over and over. I took a drink of water, hoping that it would help to further break down the bite I was working on. Maybe if I could get just half of it down Charlie would let me off the hook for tonight. I finally swallowed, still avoiding Charlie's gaze because of the way he was treating me.

I kept taking small bites while draining my water until one half of it was eaten. My gag reflex never kicked in, bile never rose to my throat, so I considered that a success. I looked from the table to Charlie's eyes and he was smiling at my small progress. I asked him if I could go back to my room since I was done. I knew that he wanted to argue, but he finally gave me permission and I waited until I was in the safety of my room before crawling on my bed and crying.

That whole experience was so upsetting. I knew that Charlie only wanted what was best for me, but that wouldn't be happening again. I was not going to be punished like a child because I wasn't eating a lot. Wasn't my broken heart punishment enough? I laid there and eventually went to sleep, thankful that the food I had just eaten didn't make another appearance in the toilet that night.

October 16

Dear Journal,

Today was awful. Like most days since he left me behind, I found my day filled with the same stuff it always was – school, homework, chores around the household. Up until this point, I was always careful to not look towards the woods at the side of my house since that particular afternoon. I already had constant reminders that he left, I didn't need to relive that moment any more than I had to.

But on the way out to my truck this morning, I turned on my wiper blades to combat the rain that was falling and I saw the opening in the trees that led deeper into the woods. I didn't want to see it, but my eye just couldn't look away fast enough. That afternoon crashed into my memory like an arrow hitting a target. I remembered coming home, finally happy to see him at my house again since he hadn't been there since that night. He said he wanted to go into the woods to talk. I found that peculiar at the time since we could just as easily go into the house, but I didn't argue and faithfully followed him. I wish more than anything I could have been prepared for what he was going to say next.

They were leaving Forks. Carlisle looked older than he should have been. His family was already gone. I wasn't good for him. I didn't belong in his world. He would never interfere in my life again. My brain felt like eggs scrambled in a skillet; I tried to think of anything to get him to stay, but it was fruitless. His mind had been made up for quite some time and apparently nothing I could say or do would change that. I said that I wasn't good enough for him. I had believed that for quite some time now, but to actually voice it and have it out there in the open and for him to not deny it hurt.

Before it knew it, I was following after him, but again I knew that it was useless. I had seen firsthand his supernatural abilities and there was no way I was going to find him again unless he wanted me to. I remembered how I searched for him until there was no more daylight and I eventually gave up, collapsing onto the forest floor. I had no idea how long I laid there until that guy found me. Sam, I think I heard Charlie call him. I hadn't fully realized I'd be found until I was being shifted into Charlie's open arms and placed on the couch. He was really gone and there wasn't a thing I could do to change that.

Since then life has been unbearable sometimes. But, I guess I should just be thankful that I got to know Edward at all. Just because he couldn't stay in my life doesn't mean that he didn't change it. As I was recounting the worst night of my life, I snapped out of it and realized that I was still in my truck, blankly staring towards that section of the yard until I realized that I was late for school.

October 20

Dear Journal,

I was given a paper to write as an assignment for English class today and while I never found schoolwork hard to do, I was genuinely happy that I had something to distract me from life. When Charlie arrived home that night he asked me if I had anything to eat recently. Trying to avoid another force feeding, I lied to him. I know that I shouldn't have, but I wasn't going through that again. I told him that Jessica and Angela had decided to get something to eat at the diner after school and invited me along. I don't actually remember the last time I had talked to either of them. I know that I'm being an awful friend, but it was better this way. There were just things that they couldn't know, so there was no use in pretending that they could understand what I was going through.

October 25

Dear Journal,

Charlie surprised me with a night off from cooking by bringing home a pizza. I was in my room working on my paper before I finally made my way downstairs to greet him. Truthfully, the smell of the pizza had wafted up the stairs and for once – since it happened – my stomach turned in hunger. Charlie was watching a baseball game as I walked to the kitchen. I filled a glass with water and put a slice on a plate before heading towards the living room instead of returning to my room. Charlie had a slice on his plate and in his hand and smiled in greeting. I took a seat on the sofa and began slowly eating my slice. This was comfortable, nice. Just like old times before my world turned to hell.

I continued to eat slowly, not wanting my stomach to take a turn for the worse until I had the majority of it down. I looked at Charlie and he was smiling and for once I didn't have to force myself to smile back. It was a genuine smile. We ate in silence, him watching the game and me thinking about what else I needed to include in my paper. When I was finished, I asked Charlie if he wanted another slice before I wrapped the rest in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge. It was a supreme pizza, my favorite kind. I suspect that Charlie did this on purpose, considering that his favorite kind is meat lovers.

October 28

Dear Journal,

School was uneventful today. It wasn't until after the last bell rang that I was miserable again. I was passing by my friends – I guess you could call them that even if you hadn't spoken to them in over a month – and walking to my locker when I heard them talking about Halloween. Angela was saying that her little brother was dressing up as a vampire and her little sister as a princess this year. Her mom asked her to go to a party store in Port Angeles to pick up some last minute supplies, including a set of plastic set of vampire teeth to complete his outfit. My tongue almost had a mind of its own because I almost blurted out to Angela that she shouldn't worry about the vampire fangs. That would be something that I couldn't logically explain to her. My eyes immediately fell to the floor as I made my way out to the parking lot and to the sanctuary of my empty truck cab.

I got to thinking about the last trip I took to Port Angeles with Angela as I drove home. Such an innocent time in my life, before I knew that some aspects of mythology were indeed correct and true love did exist. He had warned me a hundred times, sometimes subtly that we shouldn't be friends. I thought he was insane at the time. And annoying. I had never pursued a boy back in Phoenix or anywhere else for that matter, but I was crazy about him. I couldn't even put a finger on why I was, but he just consumed my mind. It wasn't even his good looks, I wasn't that shallow, but the good heart that rested inside of him. I still had a hard time understanding why he thought of himself as this horrible monster. His self control was something to be proud of, but instead he focused on his negative doings years past.

I brushed away the tears that were falling from my eyes as I pulled up alongside the curb in front of my house. If only I had known then what I know now. As I made my way up the stairs I realized that it didn't matter. Had I known the truth I probably would have still ensued him. Even though I was broken hearted now, it was worth it. This pain was worth every brush of his lips against mine, every time his hand engulfed my own, every caress of his hand against my back. Every time his arm encircled my waist, all the time I spent looking at him in the sunlight when he finally revealed himself, the first time he told me he loved me, when I awoke in the hospital in Phoenix to see him faithfully by my bedside, all of that was worth it. I was honored to be his first love; I just wish it could have been enough. And because the memories burned too bright and cut too deep, I rolled into bed and let my sorrow consume me.

AN: I'm sorry that it's taken me over a month to update. FXX has been showing Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse recently and I get sucked in every single time.

Since my last update, I've seen the movie Labor Day and if you can, do yourself a favor and check it out. I don't use the "p" word often when it comes to actors, but the young boy who played Kate Winslet's son was phenomenal. Too bad I'm too old for him.

Thank you to my wonderful beta, SydneyAlice. I'd hate to see what this would look like without you polishing everything up, girl. And thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and added this to their Favorites list! I'm beyond flattered considering that this is my first attempt at fanfiction. I hope my story doesn't totally let you down!

It should be blaringly obvious by now that I am not Stephenie Meyer. My title comes from the hauntingly gorgeous "Possibility" by Lykke Li.