The pain had yet to subside. If anything, it was getting worse. It did not come in lulls, like the waxing and waning of the moon; it was a constant, torturous throbbing racking through my bloodless veins, the broken record that was my mind perpetually playing the most vibrant, spellbinding, euphoric note in the song that was my existence.
I had never been carefree in love, I couldn't afford to be, not with someone so special and fragile in my grasp. Yet, despite the continual self restraint I had to exert around her, I had never been happier.
When I fell inexplicably into love with my angel, it was as if the sun came up on my never-ending gloom of night. She came into my life and set everything alight, dazzling me with her beautiful soul, giving me a reason to be, completing me. There had been a huge void in my life, before she appeared; I had been the odd man out, desolate, longing for something yet not knowing what, and then she appeared and filled that gaping hole. My one, my everything, my soul mate. And now, it was emptier than ever.
I had known when I left that it would be near impossible to get over my one true love, but being apart from her had utterly destroyed me in a way I could never have predicted. I knew not if I had been here for an hour, a day, a year... what did it matter? An eternity without her would be an eternity of nothing. I had returned to my perennial night.
Words simply could not describe the excruciating pain I was enduring. I could liken it only to the pain of a blind man who has his sight returned to him, his life altered completely as he finds himself able to truly appreciate the awe of the world around him, before having it cruelly torn from him again and returning to infinite darkness. Nothing would the same; he would only be able to weep for what he had lost.
I knew it was pathetic of me, to be wallowing in this bottomless pit of despair, but it was unavoidable. Before I had experienced true love, it was incomprehensible how agonizing the pain of seperation would be... I had only watched those in love around me constantly, but I had never truly understood the tenderness behind every touch, every stolen glance, every blissful moment spent together, the excitement of seeing their face, the sorrow at being apart. How it felt to know that you would sacrifice every ounce of yourself, endure any amount of torture purely to spare them from any harm. I could never understand how every conscious thought could be dedicated to one sole being, how someone could never just "pop" into your head, because they were never truly out of your thoughts. The unimaginable mangle of feelings exploding during every touch, every hug, every kiss...
A tearless sob escaped my body and I wished, as I had done so often since my departure from Forks, that I could cry, and allow the heartache to manifest itself and escape from my body. I knew my eyes must now be stygian, a mirror image of the bleakness of my never-beating heart. I cared not. I never noticed hunger anymore; it was like a tiny, meek voice straining against the ceaseless screaming of her name.
I fretted over her, constantly. Inside my mind a series of conflicts raged constantly; should I have stayed, to protect her? She was so delicate, so weak, and I couldn't help but worry about every single thing that could happen to her. Disease, assault, tripping over her own two feet... every human was easily injured but throw her blunderous nature into the mix, coupled with the radar that drew her to anything remotely dangerous within a 100 mile radius, and you had a recipe for disaster. I reminded myself that I was the most dangerous thing she could encounter, and therefore the worst she was liable to do was to graze her hand. Even at that, the thought of her getting hurt horrified me.
The second army of thought viciously attacking my will raised their weapons and I had to brace myself - this platoon had the most convincing argument, and it took every shred of resolve within me to resist. She only had a limited amount of time left on this earth. Every second that ticked by, she was one step closer to the end of her life; one step closer to finding someone, settling down, having a family, growing old with someone who loved her. This was what caused the laceration to my heart. Unfair was not the word for it, knowing that I could never give her what every person deserved from life, that we could never have had a "normal" relationship, that I could never kiss her or hold her or make love to her without a constant fear it would be me to prematurely end her life. What had I done to deserve this?
Monster, a low voice hissed in the back of my mind, and I hung my head. Murderer. I didn't deserve her. I never would. No matter how I tried to escape what I was, I could not. Just to be with her, to touch her, to smell her without fear of what the beast within wanted to do... I would walk to the ends of the earth for it. I would die a thousand mortal deaths, just to spend one lifetime with her. I would forsake my family if it went I could be with my paramour, so all-consuming was my love... I could almost feel my willpower weakening as I pictured her in my mind, looking at me with grief in her almond-shaped brown eyes, staring at me in disbelief. How could I hurt her so?
Sensing the time was right, the cavalry reared their ugly heads and I hung my head in my hands. She wanted you, forever. She wanted me, she wanted to be one of us, she wanted to spend an eternity side by side with me. But how could I possibly do that to her, someone so pure, so untainted, so good? I could not condemn her soul, I could not turn her into a hellion, no matter how huge a part of me longed for nothing but her, forever. I could not subject her to a lifetime of darkness and bloodthirst. I had to endure this pain; to save her, it would all be worth it. Well, so I tried to convince myself.
I constantly told myself that she was human, and although I had to hurt her, had to make her believe I didn't want her, (and how could she?!), she would eventually forget me. Humans were surprisingly resilient, and the wounds would heal. She would move on. She would spend her life with someone who was not a monster, and there would be a day where she could no longer picture my face, remember my voice, her memories of the times we shared fuzzy and practically forgotten.
The beast within me roared with jealousy at this thought as rage consumed me. Why did you do this to me, Carlisle?! Almost as soon as this idea passed my mind, I dismissed it angrily. I could never blame my father for this, and I would never resent nor regret that he had transformed me. I loved him, I loved my family, and they had shown their loyalty to me when they instantly packed up and left, even if I could hear their despair and unhappiness with my plan. They had taken my word and left me to it, not making or attempting to make any form of contact since I left. I sighed. I missed them. I even missed Rosalie.
The devil inside me took this opportunity to whisper a sly thought. You could turn her... she could be yours, forever. This, again, was an idea that never fully escaped my mind, but one I could not allow myself to dwell on. Even stronger than the disgrace I would feel at turning her into a monster was the fear that I wouldn't be able to stop... and living with the knowledge I had killed her, the image of her pale white corpse imbedded in my brain for all the ages, would destroy me utterly, pain me even more than being apart from her did.
I sighed again. How could any greater pain be possible?
My head snapped up as a vibrating noise shattered the silence. I looked to the floor of the cabin in disbelief; my cell phone was still working, it's battery not yet spent. Perhaps I hadn't been here for very long at all... I flicked it open and my eyes narrowed as I looked at the date. Five months since I had left Forks? Unbelievable. Five long, excruciating months where any number of terrible fates could have befallen her...
I answered the call without saying anything. I could hardly remember how to speak.
"Edward?"
I registered that this was my father, and decided I had better reply.
"Carlisle?"
"Son. I..." he paused, apparently struggling for words. "You need to come home."
I frowned. No. I needed to deal with this unending grief on my own; I would not subject them to seeing me like this, little more than a statue. It would destroy Esme. "I can't," I whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion as I thought of my mother, her heartbroken thoughts pounding in my mind as she watched me leave...
"Edward, you have to!" a high-pitched voice yelled in the background. Alice. Again, I felt another stab in my heart at the sound of my sister...
"I can't," I repeated, this time with less conviction. I had been so utterly consumed with thoughts of my love that, although I missed my family, I hadn't realised entirely how much. Speaking to them was driving this home.
"It's Bella." I felt a fresh onslaught on knife wounds as I heard her name spoken; my whole body was numb as my mind went into a state of panic. What could have happened to her?! She couldn't be... not... no... NO!
"What?! What is it?! Tell me now, Carlisle, TELL ME NOW!" I roared urgently, leaping to my feet for the first time in months and resenting the fact that I couldn't read either of their thoughts. She couldn't be gone, she couldn't be, she had to be fine, I couldn't live with myself if anything had happened to her-
"Just come home. Now. We need to talk... face to face," he said firmly; I could tell from the finality of his tone of voice that no amount of persuading or wheedling would break him and allow him to tell me over the phone.
In less than half a second my phone was snapped shut and I was through the window, tearing through the snow, my legs little more than a blur and churning up a stream of white behind me as I pelted south, my mind racing and repeating the one name over and over and over.
Bella.
