Well, this really wasn't going to be a story, but a few people suggested it, so I thought I might try it. I'd like to just throw out a few ideas and see where they take me; hopefully I won't ruin the characters. (except Jacob – just warning you right now – he'll be ooc and you'll probably hate him – sorry Jake lovers but I can't stand that dog) I didn't think I was going to make this one into a story and I'm not sure where it's going so please, please review so I know if you like it or not – thanks!!

The tears were falling faster now as I folded my note and placed it gently in an envelope. On the front of the envelope I wrote the one word that had become my entire life, the reason for its existence, and its end.

Edward.

I felt a jolt of pain and nausea as I wrote his name. In the last few months I had tried my best not to speak or think of the word to avoid the crushing pain and depression that it would bring, but none of that was comparable to the searing pain that I felt now as I slowly spelled the name; my last written word in this life. I put the envelope where I knew he would enter, the ledge of my window, and turned my back on the horrid paper. It seemed crazy to me that one seemingly harmless sheet of notebook paper could become so incredibly powerful and important to me.

When I could no longer see the envelope my familiar numbness started to slowly flow back into my body, fading away the intense pain, and leaving a throbbing ache over every inch of my pale skin. I still hurt all over, but this was at least bearable. Then, for the first time in weeks, I thought about my parents. They would hate me. But how could they ever understand? I could never explain it or justify it to anyone, it was just…the only thing I wanted. It had been months of constant pain. I didn't want to eat or speak or move. Every simple action had become a struggle for me, and the only thing I wanted to do, my one comfort, was ruined. I wanted freedom, I wanted to escape, I wanted to be somewhere that didn't remind me of him every second of every minute. I wanted to sleep. But I couldn't, I was exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. I would lie in bed for hours, staring at the window, never allowing myself to think about it, but still, I would just stare at the window, waiting. When my body would finally give in and sleep would come, it was always in short, uncomfortable shifts. And the nightmares…they were terrifying to put it lightly. I almost always woke up screaming as I was attacked by unseen forces. At first Charlie had come running every night to my room. He would sit with me like I was five years old, scared of the monsters under my bed, in the closet, in my head. But after a while, he stopped coming. I didn't blame him for it, I was actually glad that he started ignoring me; it was nice to be left alone. I was so tired of everyone pretending that they cared and promising that it would get better. They would try to appeal to my logic, saying that I was being unhealthy and unfair to myself and to everyone who was still here for me. But I didn't care, how could they even fathom what I was feeling? I wanted to ask them what they would do if they were the only person alive on this earth. I wanted to make them feel how alone that really was, because that's how alone I was. He was more important than anyone else, than everyone else, and now I was utterly alone. Of course I was still surrounded by people at school and Charlie at home, but those were just bodies moving through their own lives while I stood still, not moving, not speaking.

In fact, I hardly ever spoke anymore, saying only what was necessary. Charlie might even be relieved when I was gone. He had been living with a dead person for so long, at least this way I wouldn't be taking up space anymore. I knew I should feel guilty about my choice; that people would think it was selfish, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Even if I was being selfish; honestly, what did it matter? I had already ostracized myself from anyone that I had ever considered my friend, including the one that had tried to help, Jacob. I knew what he was, but it was okay. He may have seen himself as a freak at first, but I saw him as a fragile connection to a world that had been taken from me, as if it had never existed.

The day that we had seen the cliffs I knew what I would do; it was just a matter of time. And then today at school, it was decided for me. We had a 'free day' in English; we were ahead on the curriculum and my horrible teacher decided we would watch a movie that we hadn't had time for earlier in the semester. It was Romeo and Juliet, the old version. Fortunately I didn't have to sit through it though; instead I rushed to the bathroom to throw up and spent the rest of the day in and out of the nurse's office.

When I got home I saw the house; really saw it for the first time in months. It was a mess; there was a mountain of laundry in the hallway leading to the washer and dirty dishes overflowing the kitchen. I didn't bother to check the phone for messages from Charlie. I didn't care if he would be home late again. Recently he had started finding excuses to stay at the station later and later every night, hoping that I would be in bed by the time he got home. Of course I was always in bed, but never sleeping like he thought. Never sleeping.

I felt the numbness sweeping over me and took the opportunity to grab my keys and go. It was good that I wouldn't have any trouble leaving the house, otherwise I might not have had the fortitude to go through with my plans. I drove out of the drive way and turned my rearview mirror up to the roof; I didn't want to see. I didn't need to see.

It didn't take me long to reach the highest point of the cliffs. I shut off the engine and sat in the truck, unable to move. I was more than terrified of what I was about to do, but that fear was only in the back of my mind. The most urgent fear was a voice; a small insignificant voice, "you promised to stay safe. You said you wouldn't do anything stupid. You promised…" The voice was getting louder in the cab of the truck. I took it as a signal that it was time to go outside. I slowly opened the door, trying to memorize every detail of this stupid old truck that I loved. It was the only thing that had never hurt me and I wanted to return the favor. Climbing back in the cab I pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled one last message.

Jacob can have the truck.

I threw the paper on the dashboard and left the keys swinging in the ignition. I stepped outside and shivered, the wind was whipping the mist and rain in all directions. I crossed the road and stepped over the guardrail. As I approached the edge of the cliff, a sudden strong gust of wind pushed at me from behind. I caught my balance and waited for the surge of panic when I realized that the weather had almost pushed me over, but I felt nothing. I was cold, and wet, and I was trembling violently, almost to the point of convulsions, but there was nothing else. The fear was gone, the sadness, the pain even had disappeared. Here I was, standing on the edge of oblivion, and I felt…empty. It was a nice feeling though; almost comforting in a way. I had felt the same ache for so long. But now there was nothing, not even the guilt that I knew I should be feeling. I tested this new emptiness, taking another unsteady step towards the edge, but still nothing. A small smile played at the edge of my mouth, this was a nice feeling; nothingness. The wind threw rain and sleet into my face and I closed my eyes against the assault. When I could see only darkness I was relieved. Over the past months I couldn't close my eyes without seeing the red-eyed faces of monsters staring back at me. But now I saw nothing, just blackness. And then, a pair of familiar golden eyes, and a soft mouth breathing the words I needed to hear.

Don't worry, I'll catch you.

I took a one last deep breath, squeezed my eyes as tightly shut as I could manage, and took the last small step towards him…