Thanks to all who reviewed! Just another few hundred word drabble…

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Chiller

The chill; it's something that comes along with every winter. It's coldness, especially a moderate but uncomfortably penetrating coldness. It's a sensation of cold, usually with shivering, or a feeling of sudden fear, anxiety, or alarm, or a depressing influence or sensation. Whatever I'm feeling right now is definitely all of these four components of 'chill'. I feel cold, right from the outside to my inner core. I feel chilled right out of my wits. I shiver whenever I try to rub my arms against him, but he just disappears within thin air. I have sudden fear of anxiety or alarm, knowing that she is out there for me. I feel depressed, especially with the snow blanketing our mucky brown Forks.

I felt a slight chill from the open window. I walked towards it, and closed it faintly but not all the way closed. The news of him leaving me chilled me to the bone. I felt like the walking dead when he left me. It's December 31; New Year's Eve. Charlie was over at La Push with Billy and Harry celebrating the New Year together. He offered me to come, but I refused. He left without saying good-bye, just like that. At least it wasn't a permanent goodbye like he said to me.

I sighed, knowing that I wasn't very cooperative with Charlie over the past four months, but was I supposed to do? My soul left me, I feel like a living, chilled zombie, not vampire, and I want to go away and be alone from the people who say they love me, but I know they really don't.

I look out the window at the blanket of snow which has coated Forks. It has been very festive around the small town. There have been lights to statues of Rudolph and Santa everywhere. Yet, everything has been taken down, and the fireworks have begun. I looked at my clock, which says 11:59 p.m. I tried to keep a happy smile on, but I knew I couldn't. Especially when I knew that he wasn't going to be here with me celebrating. He was probably celebrating with another vampire. Pft. I sighed loudly as the clock struck midnight, marking the beginning of the New Year.

I looked at the scrapbook on my desk where his picture was ripped out eloquently. I shrugged, giving into the chill, muttering to myself, "Happy New Year, Bella."

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Forgiveness is the scent that a rose leaves on the heel that crushes it.

-Rosefire