Chapter 4: Ruminate

As I neared the point in New Moon where the pages were blank- save the names of the months- I was a little startled to see that there was still a long way to go before I was finished with the book.

To be clear: I was not obtuse; I understood exactly where I was in coordination with this book, but if it started re-telling how I found this book and began reading it, I would never touch this book again. There was only so much cuckoo a girl could take.

And much to my surprise, the book did not tell its discovery. Instead, the book went on to depict things I had not heard of, things I had yet to experience. The names and faces were all perfectly described, the places almost familiar, but I couldn't bring myself to believe them, which might sound insane, but at this point, my life was basically (and literally, literally) a supernatural novel. Honestly, it feels like my rational thinking left me back in the airport in Phoenix.

Sure; Twilight was clearly telling my life. I knew that. Fact.

But my life couldn't possibly be exciting enough to make a sequel to. The more I thought about this whole situation, the less it made any sense. Who the hell is Stephenie Meyer? And how on earth did she know so much about me? Where did the book come from?

There were so many unanswered who's and what's. Things I knew to be myths seemed to be coming to fruition. Vampires, oddly enough, I could understand. There have been so many stories about them; that they had to come from somewhere. But something like this? A book all about me? I had no logical answers, and the internet could only provide so much information before I fell into a hole I never had any intention of entering.

So I created my own fantasy world. I took what little I knew about the book and pieced it together into a haphazard mess of a situation.

Stephenie Meyer, whomever she may be, found out about vampires. Obviously. Or maybe she didn't really, but instead possessed some kind of Alice-level psychic abilities and just so happened to focus on my life. Maybe she didn't understand that this was real life and just assumed that it was a brain-child and decided to turn it into a novel.

It's all guess-work at this point, so my theory was just as plausible as any. The author would probably be dead by this point. Things like this don't go unnoticed (or maybe they do?). Maybe she was killed and now her ghostly soul (Because, really: If vampires exist, don't try to tell me that ghosts don't.) was here, trying to tell me something.

Of course, this only made sense in my head. When I tried to use reason, I came up short. There is a series of novels that tell my life, and then some? In startling detail. Even vampires didn't make complete sense, and I knew that they were real. So I kept this delusion in my head, letting the story wash over me, forcing myself to believe it. I continued to read this book, taking in all of its contents.

Even the parts about Jacob. The tiny Quileute. I could believe that we would become friends.

That he's a werewolf? Not so believable. But I was learning to suspend my disbelief, slowly but surely.

Just the thought of me on a motorcycle was freighting. I read through the book, shaking my head half the time and biting my nails the other. When I finally finished the book, the sky was a shimmering purple/grey, the sun having just dipped under the horizon.

That night I had the first nightmare I had had of himin weeks. I spend a fitful night rolling around in my sheets before I woke up, completely in a daze, and went downstairs to fix a bit of cereal. I didn't eat it because— I wasn't sure why. At that exact moment I began to feel separate from myself, almost as if my mind was floating right above my body, looking down on the scene. Charlie walked into the room and spoke to me, but I wasn't able to respond. I was disassociated.

It was only when his fist came down on the table that I slammed back into my own body as well.

"That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."

"I am home," I mumbled, thoroughly confused.

"I'm sending you to Renee, to Jacksonville."

What? What about my book? Would it follow me? I was almost sure that if I left Forks, I would never see this book again. This novel was my grip on what I believed to be reality; a constantly changing, monster-filled reality, but a reality nonetheless. No one was going to take that away from me. I wasn't going to leave Forks.

"What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything. That's the problem. You never do anything."

So I should be misbehaving? I'd been the most obedient child in the history of non-rebellious children. I ate when I was supposed to, cooked, I slept when told to, mostly. I was a good girl, damn it. What was Charlie thinking?

"You want me to get into trouble?"

"Trouble would be better than this . . . this moping around all the time!"

The remark stung. And the pain triggered many words and phrases that, in turn, triggered more. Pain, loneliness, Edward, Twilight….

I suddenly realized why this all felt familiar. I read this.

I read all of this!

This was the moment where I stopped knowing how the story would unfold and was instead told by New Moon. My story was being acted out. I was acting it out and so was my dad.

Charlie continued, ignoring my silence. "Wrong word. Moping would be better- that would be doing something. You're just … lifeless, Bella. I think that's the word I want.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I attempted to keep a hold on what was being said and simultaneously remember if this was how New Moon predicted it would go.

"I don't want you to apologize." Well, he must want something. And he was being so vague- what else was I supposed to say?

"Then tell me what you want me to do." Simple enough.

"Bella. Honey, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."

Not terribly inaccurate, but still—he was probably wrong. Humans and vampires? I'd only seen it on television with the gruesome corn syrup-blood-drinking imposters and blonde damsels. This sort of thing didn't happen in real life.

"I know that."

"Listen honey. I think that- that maybe you need some help."

Wait.

What?

What kind of help? I immediately had visions of straight-jackets and men in white coats coming to take me away. I couldn't stay in a psyche ward. I couldn't even talk to a therapist, for crying out loud! I didn't know much about psychoanalysis, but I was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatively truthful. And if I were truthful, then I would be thrown in the nut house for sure.

"Help?"

"When your mother left and took you. Well, that was a really bad time for me. But I handled it. Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better. I think we both know It's not getting better."

"But I'm fine."

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one bit."

Of course he didn't understand why I couldn't go and get professional help, so maybe it wasn't exactly fair to get angry at him, but his insistence wasn't making anything any better.

"Look," I said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight. If it helps you sleep at night, I'll call Jess or Angela."

"That's not what I want," he argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through you trying harder. I've never seen anyone try so hard. It hurts to watch. I want you to be happy- no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you leave Forks."

Yeah, no. "I'm not leaving."

"Why not?"

"I'm in my last semester of school- it would screw everything up."

"You're a good student, you'll figure it out."

"I don't want to crowd Mom and Phil."

"Your mother's been dying to have you back."

"Florida is too hot. I have friends here. I've gotten to used to the rain." I pulled excuse after excuse, hoping that one would stall Charlie.

His fist came back down onto the table. "We both know what's really going on here, Bella, and it's not good for you. It's been months. No phone calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."

Ah. So he believed that I was waiting for him. Edward. In reality, I could very well be waiting for him. But in my mind- and that was the only place that mattered to me- I was waiting for the book to show me something truly worthwhile. In a very real way, I was dependent on him. I was dependent on just the idea of him.

"I'm not waiting for anything. I don't expect anything." I said in a low tone. I continued, cutting Charlie off. "I have to go to school. I'll make plans with Jessica."

I ran up to my room, pulled on my shoes and picked up New Moon,for the first time making my way out of the house with it.

Author's Note: I noticed that most ffners are online on Saturdays, so I remained on my computer for 3 hours tapping this out! Isn't it sad that this is all I wrote in 3 hours. *Sigh*

R&R plz.