This is my first FanFic. Please be aware my native language is German. We have slightly different grammar rules, especially for direct speech.
I still don't own Twilight *sob*.
Recently in After Dark: Emmett's POV.
I was angry and dangerous like hell. If anger itself was visible, it would have been radiating in waves off of me. I was wondering how long it would take until I would finally snap and kill my brother for the shit he had done to our family.
Chapter 2 – (Loud and Silent Suffering) – Bella's POV
Whenever I was "home" for a few days, I turned into a different person. Sometimes, I felt like I had two personalities and wondered if there was something seriously wrong with me or if I just had become a professional liar? Back in Forks, I was a sweet, friendly girl and a great, caring daughter and friend. I would cook dinner for Charlie as I used to when I was still living with him. I would visit Jacob and spend time with him in the garage, watching him fixing a bike or a car. I would talk a lot about my job in the library, about college and my interesting classes, about writing for the school paper, about living on campus or going out with friends. I would ask Charlie questions about his job, his work buddies, about my old classmates in Forks High, about his fishing trips and about life in Forks in general. I would ask Jacob about Billy, La Push and Jacob's future plans. I would discuss my future plans.
But there were no plans.
I wouldn't show anyone how it hurt to be home. How everything back here reminded me of HIM. The rain. The woods. My room. Charlie's kitchen. How I had trouble breathing when I lay awake at night, the window wide open. How I thought I could still smell him on me, no matter how many times I had washed my sheets, blankets and pillows. How I it seemed I could still feel him as if he were right next to me, watching over me as I was struggling not to fall asleep.
Whenever I came back from such a visit to Forks, I was sitting on my bed for hours, not able to move, not able to unpack my stuff. Staring at the walls, I felt so guilty about lying constantly to Charlie, to Renee, to Jacob, to everyone. Lying about the classes I had skipped for weeks. About the exams I had failed. About my room on campus I had given up to live in this crappy appartement near the red-light district. About the tuition fees I hadn't paid; about the fact I had definitely quit college. That I didn't hand out books in the library or write articles for the school paper, but was serving cocktails in a bar of questionable reputation. That I didn't have any friends, only a few work buddies I knew Charlie wouldn't like at all – because although they were really friendly to me and helpful, most of them also had a questionable reputation.
If I would tell Charlie the truth behind all these lies, he would have an aneurysm. Or a heart attack. Or both. Maybe he would yell at me for throwing my life away. Maybe he would sent me to Boot Camp. Or back to Renee. Maybe he would start mourning about the money and time he wasted on me; even regret that he had let me live with him. Or he would feel guilty that he wasn't able to raise his daughter properly. More likely, he would be ashamed about his once intelligent daughter with a bright future ahead, who was sitting all day in her dark room in her crappy apartment, staring at the walls, serving drinks every night in a crappy bar because she couldn't and didn't want to sleep anyway. Or maybe he would just look at me with pity in his eyes. As if I needed that again.
If I would tell Renee, she would call Charlie. If I would tell Jacob, he would probably tell Billy who would tell Charlie. If I would tell Angela, she maybe would tell her mom, who would tell Charlie. Either way, I would give my Dad a heart attack. Or an aneurysm.
Anyway, Renee had a totally different life now. She was even thinking of having another baby with Phil. She was still quite young and they could afford it. She was quite excited about it. I didn't want Jacob to feel bad. I had hurt him enough. And Angela… we weren't that close anymore. A few text messages, emails and phone calls every year. I didn't want to bother them.
What was there to tell Charlie, anyway? That I was unhappy? That I haven't moved on at all, that it was worse than before? That the time I had spent with my therapist had been fruitless? That I was on the verge on a breakdown, but he shouldn't worry about it? That I broke out in tears several times a day for no apparent reason? That I had nightmares and was afraid to sleep? Either way, I couldn't tell him. I couldn't rob him from his illusion that I got over it. That he had helped me getting over it. I couldn't risk that people started talking again behind his back. He had suffered enough.
Back then, three years ago, before the "incident", I had felt like I had so much ahead of me, so many opportunities. I was a smart person. I had a boyfriend who loved me. I had a family and siblings who loved me. I had the possibility to go to college if I just worked hard enough. There were people who liked me. There was this possibility to live with the love of my life forever. And I mean, FOREVER.
Now, I had nothing. I had a crappy room with crappy furniture and a crappy job, a few scars on my skin, a big hole in my heart. He had ruined my future. I had ruined my future. I had no will to change my life, but also no will to end it. So I just suffered through it and refused to tell anyone how unhappy, scared and broken I was.
After the "incident", I stayed home, crying all day. I didn't eat or drink, and I didn't move. I just stayed in my bed, curled up and crying my heart out. Charlie tried everything to cheer me up and to soothe me, but it didn't work. It hurt so much. In his misery, he even called Renee to take me back to Florida. I refused to go. It was a very unpleasant moment.
After another week, I had recovered somewhat. Or so I thought. I felt strong and confident again, full of energy and excited while planning my next steps. I went back to school and everything was back to normal. Charlie was happy to no end. But of course I didn't tell him about my plans.
I wanted to get my lover and soulmate back. I wanted to get my family back. I wanted to get my friend Alice back. I wanted a confrontation. I longed for an explanation. Or at least an apology. I wanted to know them how I felt, how I was falling apart. They should see what they had done to me. They should feel guilty. They should feel sorry. I was angry. And I was determined. So I decided to track them down.
First, I did hours of research on the internet every night. But I never came across anything. They had changed their cell phones, and I didn't know how to contact them. None of the Cullens had a profile on any of the social network sites. Of course not. That would have been too easy. It was even stupid to think about this possibility, but I had to check. There were no school records from Alice, there were no graduation pictures of Jasper, no proofs that Edward had ever attended medical school, no journal articles from the famous Dr Cullen. I couldn't find any pictures of the Cullens in the copies of the year books I retrieved online. There was no wedding announcement of Emmett and Rosalie in the local papers. There wasn't even a sign that Cullen siblings had ever been enrolled at Forks High or that the Cullens had ever lived in Forks. Nothing.
Then, I risked getting arrested and putting shame on Charlie for the rest of his life by hacking the computer in his office at the police station and the one at the municipal administration of Forks. But there was just this big nothing. No copies of Edwards driving license. No applications for any visa or a new passport although they were travelling all the time. No affirmations Esme had paid their taxes properly. I couldn't find anything to get a hold of them. Not even a speeding or parking ticket. No phone number. No address. Their entire fake "human" existence had vanished. It seemed as if they never had existed.
Of course, my resources were limited. I had no access to any other motor vehicle or public schools databases than the one for Forks. And I was quite sure they had already left the state of Washington, maybe even the country. Maybe they even had changed their names?
After hours of fruitless research I was so desperate I started calling hospitals in the area of Washington randomly, asking for any Dr Cullen. I moved on to Oregon, then to Alaska. I even checked private clinics and psychiatric facilities. Still no sign of Carlisle. I searched for information on the homepages of every University with a department or institute for Medicine. Maybe he was teaching somewhere? I checked the phone books for a Cullen, MD. Nothing.
Every day, my panic was growing that I wouldn't find them. My chances were getting slimmer the more time passed by without a trace. I had no pictures. No letters, no postcards. Nothing. I would start to forget how they looked like. How they smelled. How Edward's cool skin felt on mine. How Alice jumped up and down when she was excited. I didn't want to forget. I was so despaired I even considered travelling to Volterra and find the Volturi. Carlisle had lived with them for years. Maybe they knew how to contact him? Edward had told me there were "rules" to obey. If I threatened them to tell someone I knew about vampires, maybe they would agree to turn me? But besides the fact I didn't have enough money for a trip to Italy, I didn't know anything about the Volturi and how to find them. All my attempts to find a trace how to get in contact with the Volturi was as fruitless as my research on the Cullens.
In the end, it didn't matter if I was human or immortal, if the Volturi would help me to find them, if I would find them on my own. It didn't change the fact that Edward didn't love me. After a few weeks, I couldn't deny this fact anymore, although it was nagging me in my subconscious all the time. First, I had denied it. I had some serious research to do. I had classes to attend. I had to take care of Charlie. But it kept nagging. Then, I had to accept it. They didn't want to be found. They would not come back. He would not come back. Edward didn't love me.
At first, I got angry. How could he have done this to me? First, he pretended to be in love with me. He saved my life. He seemed to care about me. He made me fall in love with him. He let me meet his family. He gave me kisses, and love, and presents. Then he left and robbed me of my best friend, my family, my future and the love of my life. He took his kisses, his love, his presents and my life with him. He left me nothing than a few memories. Memories that were fading away really fast. Everyone was talking behind my back. Charlie worried about me all the time. I couldn't do anything without people watching me careful. I had lost all my interests in music, books, watching TV with my dad, a friendship with Jacob and classmates. And I couldn't even punish HIM for doing that to me. I couldn't yell at him, I couldn't shout at him, I couldn't hit or punch him. I couldn't show him my anger. I couldn't even write a goodbye letter to him because I had no address to send it to. I couldn't tell him about my anger. So, I punished myself for my stupidity of falling in love with him. It didn't help.
After that, I was sad. I cried a lot. It hurt so much. I didn't know what to do. Then, I got numb.
I went back to my zombie state and stayed like this for weeks. I just lay there on my bed, curled in a ball of pain. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to drink. I didn't even cry. I didn't want to do anything than just die or disappear already.
A lot of people kept visiting Charlie during these weeks, bringing dinner as an excuse to ask about me and how Charlie was holding up. Most of them really were concerned, especially Billy, Jacob, and a few of Charlie's friends from work. Billy and Harry Clearwater came often; sometimes several times a week. I could hear the faint whispering of the TV; they used to watch the games together. But I could never hear them yelling or shouting or clapping. They were just watching. They were just sitting with my dad to spend some time with him.
Jacob came to spend time with me. It was embarassing, but sweet.
Jacob just sat there in my room on the floor, giving me some company while I lay there, unmoving, staring at the wall behind him. He never asked anything. He never tried to give me advice; he never forced me out of my bed. He never told me I should forget this stupid guy, get over it and find someone new. And I could never see any sign of pity in his eyes. He just told me about his day and what was going on in Forks, what rumours he heard about me – he found them quite amusing – which car was in his garage to be fixed, which car he planned to fix next. It was really sweet and I felt guilty I couldn't thank him for trying, that I couldn't be a friend like he deserved it.
Others just wanted to peep at me and my strange behaviour. They wanted to see my scars. As if it was possible to see a broken heart. They kept giving Charlie advice what to do, arguing about hospitalizing me. They shared all their knowledge of depression, self-inflicted injuries and drugs with him. And they didn't even try to do this quietly so I wouldn't hear them. Charlie didn't talk much. He didn't argue. He just said thank you and goodbye. He didn't want to send me away. He was just worried. He wanted to take care of me until I got better, like a father should do.
But I wasn't getting better. I wouldn't get better. Charlie was worrying all day about me, sometimes not even able to show up for work. He had trouble sleeping – I knew, because I wasn't sleeping, either. I was afraid of the nightmares. And I was scared for Charlie. He looked unhealthy and pale. He drank too much beer. He didn't go fishing with Billy anymore, refusing to leave me alone for a few hours, even if Jacob assured him to stay with and watch over me.
Forks was a small town. And I knew that small towns didn't easily forget small scandals like the chief's daughter trying to kill herself because she couldn't live without the boy she only dated for a few months. It didn't forget the day they had organized a search party for me, the same day Sam Uley found me lying in the woods, unable to move and looking like a corpse. It didn't forget the chief's daughter in a catatonic and depressed state for weeks until she made another attempt for suicide. It didn't forget that this poor girl was into drugs and alcohol and cut herself. That she refused to eat.
According to Jacob, a lot of rumours were spread about me, and I had this feeling it was partially Jessica's and Lauren's and their family's fault. But I didn't care. And I didn't feel a need to explain anything to anyone. I only felt bad for Charlie. So I decided to ease his pain by "moving on".
I pretended to get better. I went back to school. I started cooking again and doing laundry. (Well, actually, I threw my misery into a massive cleaning, repairing, redecorating and cooking frenzy every day after school, but Charlie didn't dare to tell me to stop.) I got rid of all blue tops in my wardrobe, but dressed myself in all other happy colors, even when I felt black inside. I put make up on my face to hide the shadows under my eyes and my pale skin. I tried to gain some weight back. I stayed awake at night and took naps during lunch time in the school library so Charlie didn't have to hear my screams and worry about me. I forced myself to smile when I could feel the presence of other people's eyes on me. I dyed my hair, changed my shampoo, tried out new clothes and looks and spent hours on the phone with Angela like any other average girl of my age. I spent time with Jacob in La Push. We repaired some motorcycles and he taught me how to drive it. I did some stupid things like cliff diving, more alcohol and more drugs. I talked to Angela, Jessica, Mike, Ben and Eric at school. I even went out with them, going to the movies, to a party or doing some shopping. I had some unpleasant encounters with other vampires, some scary adventures with wolves and some romantic moments with Jacob. I finally finished high school with quite good marks, considering I had missed lots of classes and was still feeling like a zombie inside.
I thought I had managed quite well under these circumstances. I felt almost proud of myself, although I would never admit it. But Charlie was waiting for me to "really" move on. He wanted me to be happy – or at least, not to be miserable. He cared about my future. He expected me to go to college. To move away from Forks and start over. He thought I had a better chance by getting out here. Even if that meant I would leave him again.
At first, I couldn't let myself leave. I found many reasons to stay. I told Charlie I wanted to take a gap year to earn some money at Newton's Outfitters for travelling around the world or at least to visit Europe. That I had to save some money for college, too. That the Newton's needed me in the store. That I would stay until Jacob finished high school at the reservation so we could travel together. That someone needed to take care of Charlie. The longer I stayed, the more difficulties I had to come up with a reason to stay here Charlie would understand.
I guess I was secretly still waiting for THEM to return. I had to stay here in Forks, to know that he had existed. That they still existed. I stayed hours at the meadow. I imagined all of them at my feet, begging for forgiveness. I went to their deserted house to check if someone had come back and was living there unnoticed. Deep inside I already knew this wasn't going to happen. But everytime I found the house empty and the meadow without Edward, I was disappointed. And I was angry with myself that there was still hope in me that could be crushed.
Even if there was no trace of the Cullens, I knew I wouldn't forget them. I wouldn't get over it. I couldn't get over it. No matter if I stayed here or somewhere else.
Sometimes, I felt that Charlie knew what I was waiting for. But he never said anything. He just had this look on his face when he tried to talk me into going to college now and not to worry about the money. He promised me to give me some money to travel around Europe if I had succeeded my first year. He begged me not to wait too long with the application process. He tried to convince me it was a pity to ruin any chances for a good education. He told me I shouldn't put my life on hold like he had so many years ago. His look was killing me. After a few weeks, I decided to get the hell out of here. I couldn't stand his sad and pitying eyes any longer.
I got finally accepted for a scholarship in English Literature and moved. Charlie was happy. Renee was happy. Jacob was a bit sad, although he tried not to show it and to be happy for me.
My college wasn't that far away that I couldn't afford to go home for a few days during the semester holidays, but far enough not to be bothered by any surprise visits from my parents or people from Forks.
After all, Charlie had been right. It was easier to live trough when I was away from Forks. Not because of the painful memories around me fading away, but for the fact I didn't have to see Charlie's or Jacob's worried faces every day.
I kept myself busy. I was studying all night for my classes. I was prepared for my exams. I started working in the library to earn some money and to get in contact with other students and professors. I planned to get a job in my institute, so I made sure everyone knew my name and my face. I took so many classes I would graduate a year earlier if I could keep up with it. I went to see a therapist. I wrote articles for the school paper – a perfect excuse to work at nightly hours instead of sleeping. I went out with my roommates and did a few more stupid things like frat parties, more alcohol, more drugs and smoking pot. I kissed a few guys and even a girl because I was too drunk to care. I was nice to the other students, to the professors, to the cleaning ladies, to the personnel in the cafeteria. I was nice to everyone, not showing how I felt, playing my game. Not even my therapist could see through it. She thought I was getting better with the antidepressants and the sleeping pills she had prescribed me and that I was finally opening up and talking about the "incident". If she only knew…
If she only knew… of course, I had to lie to her. She wanted to help me. But I didn't want any help. There was no real help. I just wanted something to ease the pain. I only wanted a refill for the drugs. I only wanted to make Charlie happy. But for that, I had to lie to her. So I told her a heartbreaking story about this guy who had broken up with me and left… I mean, it wasn't really a lie. I didn't have to lie, there were just a few things I couldn't tell her…
If I had told her I was still mourning my ex-vampire-boyfriend who had left me because I was only trouble… that he had left me because he was sick of protecting me all the time while he was trying not to bite me… if I had told her that first this bad vampire James, then my sweet vampire brother Jasper, then fucking Laurent had tried to kill me… if I had told her I was still angry with him because I had wanted to be a vampire and he had constantly refused to turn me while assuring me he loved me… that he had left me and taken my vampire sister, my vampire siblings and my vampire parents with him after telling me he didn't love me anymore… if I had told her I still imagined seeing, hearing and feeling him now and then and broke out in tears when I noticed it had just been my imagination, she would have had me committed, no doubt. I couldn't do that to Charlie.
This went on for over a year. Then, I had given up. I was just living a big, fat lie. I was lying to Charlie. I was lying to Renee. I was lying to Angela in the letters and emails I wrote. I was lying to Jacob on the phone. I was lying to my therapist. I was lying to everyone. Even to myself. Because inside I already knew I wouldn't get better. I just pretended to myself that someday I would get better. But I knew that I wouldn't. And I didn't want to get better. There was no reason to. I had begun to like my silent suffering. Maybe a part of me needed the constant pain to keep reminding me all had been real. Or maybe I just got used to it and forgot how to be happy. I didn't know. I didn't care. It didn't matter.
I couldn't stop lying to them. I couldn't break their hearts. I didn't want to disappoint them. But I could at least stop lying to myself. So I stopped.
I stopped the antidepressants (but not the cigarettes, the drugs and the alcohol), I stopped going to therapy. I stopped bothering about make up and dressing in happy colors. I took the job in the bar to keep my mind occupied at nights. And I had finally a reason to wear black without being asked stupid questions. I quit the job in the library because I already had troubles staying awake in classes. I stopped going out with my "friends". I stopped reading and brought my old books to a second-hand bookstore. I told the editor I couldn't work for the school paper anymore because I needed more time studying. At the same time, I stopped doing my homework. My marks dropped. I failed my exams. I stopped cooking and doing laundry. I stopped paying my rent and had to move from campus. Then I stopped paying my tuition fees. And then I finally decided I wouldn't go back to college, because without Edward, I had no future anyway.
So I was sitting on my bed every day for hours until it was time to go to work. I stayed alive for Charlie, for Renee, for Jacob. I stayed alive mostly for Charlie. But not for myself.
Reviews are better than Bella fearing she's suffering from a multiple personality disorder.
Coming up next: Emmett's POV
While I was lying on my back, the amazing taste of bear still on my lips, it suddenly hit me. I would skip school.
