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Chapter 2: BPOV 6:30 p.m.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

I listened to the ring of the phone, tapping my foot impatiently. I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, after a long day at the office. My shoulder held up the phone while my hands tried to get my heels off.

I don't know why I am calling Edward after 3 years. I just grabbed the phone and dialed the number I had memorized five years earlier.

I'm unsure if I want him to pick up, or I want to get the machine. I feel like he deserves an explanation, but I don't know if I could give him one. My head is screaming 'you idiot after all we have worked for' while my heart says 'I hope that he picks up and says he's coming for me"

Ring…Ring…

Then the voice I haven't heard in what has felt like forever came through the speaker.

"Hello, you have reached Edward Masen's cell phone. I'm not able to pick up the phone, so leave a message at the beep." His voice sounded off, like it was depressed and hallow. A zombie could have said it and I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Did I cause that?

I snap my phone shut and I close my eyes, taking deep breathes.

That was excruciating. I never believed it would be that hard to hear him again. I had spent three years trying to forget, but always failing. I think I cried myself to sleep for the first year I was away. But I remember why I left, and stayed here, every time.

For the most part, leaving was because I did have a job offer that would have been very hard to pass up, but I know I could have. I had to leave, the town, the people, that life. I couldn't take it anymore. I left Edward for other reasons too. I could have had Edward come with me, but choose not to.

I have tried to keep tabs on him. Forks has an online newspaper that I get on sometimes. It has a people section that Edward frequently stars in. I have certain articles printed out, like my favorite was when it said that he was single, and all the women in town were getting desperate, but he showed no interest.

Over the years, I have considered going back, explaining why I left, but always convinced my self not to. I hoped that maybe he could get over me. I sure knew I never would get over him, he was my life. Besides, I was never anything special, I always assumed he would move on when the next tall blonde walked by.

I got up to check my email, a read the many emails I had from work. I was offered a job at a newspaper here in San Francisco. I have always loved the city from a trip my dad took me when I was nine. Even now, I love to sit out on a bench and watch as the fog rolls in from ocean, taking the Golden Gate Bridge from my view. I sit all day, just to clear my mind of anything, and everything. It is very calming. The city is a wonderful place to forget when one needs to.

The newspaper I work at had heard of me from my work on the school newspaper and yearbook. Also, my English and Business classes that I took were Advanced Placement. I moved up in the three years I had been here, and am now the head Editor. I love the work, for the most part distracting me of being at home.

My apartment that I have had since I moved from Forks, is small, but cozy. It has nothing fancy, or expensive, nor is it in the expensive part of town. But a farmer's market is close, so I go there and get most of my cooking ingredients there. I love the walk; it was always something different, new. In Forks, everything was always the same.

Once all the emails were replied to and my laptop shut down, I changed into my nightgown, plugging my Blackberry in so it can charge. I have no idea what I was thinking when I called Edward. Maybe the hole in my heart has begun to bleed again. All the men ask me on a date, but I always turn them down. My heart just can't take it any more. I miss him everyday.

Wow. It's 9:00. I better get to bed. I have a newspaper to put out in the morning. But, like very night for three years, tears begin to fall from my eyes, and my silent sobs take me to the black of the night.

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