Hey, please dont kill me for taking too long for updating! I have my reasons, I really do:
1. The link to the story on my friend's account wasn't working for the LONGEST TIME! I will continue to publish on this account, however, this story will also appear on my own account. The pen name is Daedria. These are the ONLY two accounts that will publish Loss of Humanity.
2. Dealing with college in high school is a reall pain in the a**. I was absolutely swamped with work.
3. I have been paying special attention to the review from Bird That Flies At Dawn (I really apreciated your review):
What I really liked about this chapter is the mystery you put around it and how every time I tried to guess what would happen next, I was proved wrong! What I thought during the chapter was: Don't let Edward be the one who killed her mother! and Whe will Edward show up and see her doing all of this? I think that an improvement might be a little bit of more creative word usage or more "speaking" throughout the chapter. I really like this story. Keep going and have fun with it! PLEASE up date soon!
Thank you so much for your review! for this chapter I decided to tackle the 'creative writing' part of your review, so hopefuly I'll be able to work on something else that you mentioned in the next chapter.
4. Ahhh... reviews. well I did not get the 20 I asked for, but i still wasn't expecting so many:)
How about we take it down a notch and say 15? Can you guys get me 15 reviews? Well, you better because I'm almost done with the next chapter and I need proper motivation. But I need proper motivation so please review!
thanks especially to The smart 1 for her review, only she knows how many times ive read, and reread this chapter not believing it was good enough! hehe, thanks for your support!
anyway, before we begin can you guys do me a favor? when you review tell me this:
a) were the Edward parts juicy
b) or not juicy enough?
One last thing, if you all really, really, REALLY love this story and think it should be widely known, then please spread the word about the existence of this story!
thanx :)
THE ALPHA HAS SPOKEN!
Chapter 6 Limbo
Coming back to myself was not very pretty. My head felt as if three pounds of really sensitive mush had been thrown into my skull, but that was nothing compared to what followed. Raw, excruciating pain slammed throughout my bones, choking me to the point where nothing existed but the torture I was being put through. I felt my heart pounding within my ribcage, my blood racing through my system, then abruptly more pain speared through my muscles. Gritting my teeth, I forced back the screams that were threatening to explode from my mouth, like the outpour of water through a broken dam. Nothing but small whimpers escaped me. The world was spinning uncontrollably, and my eyes were being stabbed by the bright daylight . I was vaguely aware of my attempt to push myself to a sitting position despite the agony screaming from my bones. Nausea threw the turbulent world in to even more of a chaotic frenzy. My weakened arms trembled dangerously by the effort of supporting my weight, until giving away, my body collapsed hard onto the ground.
If the pain before was only unbearable, now it was so severe that there was not a single cell in my being that did not pray for some form of unconsciousness. I rolled over to my side, dry heaving onto the ground; the nausea was intense enough that I wanted to puke all of my insides out, so long as it would stop the spinning sensation in my head. The exertion involved in fighting the colossal torment from my lesions was incredibly taxing on whatever reserves of strength my fragile self still possessed. Instead of futilely fighting a losing battle, I stilled, and while the spinning diminished at a sluggish pace, my lungs allowed steady amounts of oxygen to flow into my system. My mind searched for calmness, but no matter how strenuously the search for that all-powerful peaceful feeling went on, the serenity that had possessed me before evaded me. The path was obstructed by bone-breaking pain all over my body. Frazzled thoughts, concerning the disturbing scene just witnessed crowded my head. I uttered a strangled cry as the agonizing pain incremented in my bones.
"Gah!" I shrieked as I felt my ribs being crushed, one of them felt like it was twisting inside of me.
Wincing, I lifted up my shirt — and was sickened at the sight of my ribs. They weren't broken, in fact they were still intact, but my skin was blackened by the worst bruising imaginable. My joints locked of their own accord, fearing any sort of movement would worsen my condition.
Crap.
I lifted the jean covering the leg that hurt the most, and sure enough, it was covered in nasty bruising on the exact place where my mother's leg broke.
If my ribs looked this nasty, the rest of me was sure to look a lot worse. I begged my muscles to cooperate with me, but the moment my legs were put under pressure in order to stand, I collapsed. Mom had always emphasized the dangers of revisiting memories, and at long last, her insistent warnings made sense. Getting other people's memories from the Mother was precarious, because not only did one witness the event, but one had to experience it. Such an experience marked a person (to a lesser extent) in the same way his or her host was marked. Only those who were mature enough to handle memories were safe from the unspeakable damage that could befall a body. My mother had told me that many of our kind were taken by the memories they decided to relive, making it nothing short of a miracle that I survived.
My actions, though, however inane they might have been, were not done in vain. The Mother provided me with more than just a glimpse of the bastard that practically murdered my mom. Sadly, my worst concerns were no longer "what if's", now that I had the identity of the man, I a) had no clue as to how to find him b) I had no idea of what I would do if I did find him, and c) I realized that I had nowhere near as much power to retaliate.
For once, the familiar repulsion of what was to become of me did not plague me, because clearly, this creature was far from human, so it was not in my best interest to remain human.
Just like the Cullens…
Even when taken aback by my own thoughts, it was impossible for me to deny the similarities that existed between the killer and the Cullens. Both were ghastly pale, frigid to the touch (according to the memory), inhumanly attractive (though the man in the memory was a more sinister form of attractive), and had unusual eyes. This final point was where they differed: the Cullens had golden eyes that apparently shifted to black, and the man had the most hideous blood red eyes that had ever graced the planet.
Somewhere, in the back of my approach to this problem, logic kept pushing that they had to be human—they had the appearance of a human, what else could they be? But, in my own hypocrisy, I was reminded that if I wasn't going to be human for much longer, then the possibility of other supernatural creatures was highly probable.
No sooner than the idea that the Cullens could be more than what they appeared to be solidified itself, automatically it was shoved from my brain— it was simply too absurd. Out of nowhere, the thought of Charlie interrupted my train of thought, so without another glance at the crime scene, I constrained myself to stand while attempting to disregard the stabbing pain. After testing the strength of my stomach, I limped back to my truck and drove home.
Maybe it was because I was highly perturbed with my mothers impending demise, or perhaps it was because my whole nature had been altered from calm to paranoid. In any case, it didn't matter. My nerves were sensing everything to the most acute degree. The silence, once comforting, was now brooding with an untold threat. There was no way to hide what I knew; and that could easily destroy the walls and defenses I had worked so hard to put up.
The house did not feel the same, it felt…desolate. I took the opportunity to asses all the damage done to me by taking a shower. Needless to say, I now had a sickening purple-ish/black color theme, and my face practically screamed Domestic Abuse. The bruising didn't cause my face to swell, however it was still nasty enough that no normal amount of makeup was going to cover it up. The frosting was added to the cake when I realized that I couldn't do anything without wincing or limping.
How the hell was all of this supposed to stay hidden from Charlie? Let alone, the rest of the world? I began fussing with the makeup I had gotten to cover my earthen marks. It took me over an hour to make sure that everything was decently covered up.
When the realization hit me that I had probably spent way too much time "getting Charlie's food", I finished getting dressed, and practically hobbled downstairs to prepare something for him, eager to return to the hospital.
When I glanced at the clock my eagerness made sense— it was eight in the evening.
"Shit." I cursed under my breath. I grabbed the food, and went out to my truck. Ominous clouds loomed across the sky, and a chilling breeze filled me with nothing but a dark presentiment. As I drove to the hospital, a heavy drizzle began to fall, and I prayed that this meant nothing.
I hated hospitals. They always reeked of illness and death, and yet, there was no way I could just leave without my mother.
I found my dad in the same position that I left him in.
Nothing had changed, if anything, he looked a little more depressed.
"Dad?" I whispered, in an effort to avoid startling him. He didn't answer, not one grunt or demonstration that he was still alive. His blank stare kept drilling a hole in the wall across from us.
"Dad?" I repeated louder this time, drawing a response from him.
"Hhmm?" he shook awake and grunted in response.
"Here is the food I brought you." I handed him the Tupperware.
He looked at the container as if I had just handed him Pandora's Box, "I'm not hungry." He grumbled lifelessly before returning his dead stare to the wall.
"Dad, you have to eat." I insisted, handing him the Tupperware again.
With reluctance clear in his eyes, he reached for the container and began to absently nibble at its contents.
"Do you know anything new?" the question came out before I even realized that I was speaking it.
"No, but she's due out in a few hours." His monotonous voice responded. He hardly looked at me, something for which I was thankful; the makeup probably didn't properly conceal my abused face, though I spent a great deal of time making sure that it did. Taking a risk such as that would be incredibly stupid.
I couldn't do anything as Charlie gradually shut himself off from the rest of the world and slowly nibbled at the food I had brought him. As if to prove how much we were related to each other, I did the same thing. I retreated into myself and let my mind descend into the Land of Torment and Eternal Darkness. My thoughts were entirely too depressing to relate.
"Mr. Swan?" Dr. Cullen's smooth but stern voice jerked us out of our thoughts. Charlie immediately jumped up like a statue brought to life. Ignoring my complaining muscles and bones, I tried to stand, but I unwillingly let out the smallest cry of pain. It was not meant for anyone else to hear, Charlie was so distracted anticipating news of my mom, but Dr. Cullen's eyes were drawn towards me. His stare shot through my defenses like a bullet through glass, and only one thought was present in my mind.
He could see.
Anxiety finally claiming him, my dad answered Dr. Cullen's call, "Yes, how is she?"
I could see the hesitation in his eyes as he forced himself to look at my father instead of me. My stomach twisted in nervousness.
"We have successfully managed to stop all internal bleeding, any broken bones have been reset, and her other injuries have received the necessary care." I wasn't sure if it was just me, but Dr. Cullen sounded eerily cool, calm, and collected. The way he spoke coupled with an expressionless face clearly gave the impression that he was all business. I didn't like it. It made me think that he didn't really care about my mother, let alone any one else that came under his care. Obviously a doctor couldn't get attached to his patients, but what happened to actually worrying for a patients well-being and comfort during their ailments? Surely, being so detached couldn't be so good?
As if on the same thought, I heard my dad sigh in frustration, "Will she be ok?
Dr. Cullen visibly hesitated, and his cool façade broke. I guiltily rejoiced that my mother wasn't in the hands of some cold, unfeeling stranger.
"Mr. Swan, I have to be honest, Renee has lost a lot of blood, and there were several severe internal injuries, as of this moment she has to be kept under heavy sedation to help her brain heal itself and hopefully prevent any more swelling. Though we managed to fix most other injuries, her chances right now are not good" He looked as if he had just delivered my mothers death knell.
I knew that I looked as if I just had the wind knocked out of me, indeed, that's exactly how I felt. Although it was sort of already known to me that my mother was pretty much close to her death, a very big part of me still hoped that my mother was out of any danger.
Charlie looked a lot worse than I did. Dr. Cullen's Sentence of Doom had completely done him in. after whispering "thanks doctor" in the most broken voice I have ever heard, his shoulders hunched and he slowly lowered himself down into his chair. Dr. Cullen's eyes darted to me, before turning his back and walking away, leaving me to stare at his retreating form. One look at my dad, and I knew that from that moment on this Charlie would be forever ingrained in my memory. He looked old and lost, like a child who had suddenly found out that his family had been taken from him.
And I had no idea what to do.
A parent was supposed to be a child's rock no mater what age, it is comforting to know that you always have that person to lean on when things in life go horribly astray.
But as I watched my dad's hunched back shake with quiet sobs, I suddenly felt as if I was floating on my own with this problem.
Awkwardly, I put my hand on his shoulder, "Dad, we have to go home for the night," I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, which read 11:23.
"I can't leave her here." was his simple answer. I went with another tactic,
"I know dad, but I have school tomorrow and you need to call Phil."
With that, he lifted his hands from his face and looked at me his expression was so vulnerable that I had to look away.
"Can't— can't you do it?" what could I respond to that?
"Dad, I don't think that is the best idea—"
"Please, do this for me." His pleading eyes pled into mine. He had unknowingly given me a card, and I pulled it.
"Ok, but you have to come with me for the night?"
I saw contemplation in his expression, "Fine."
We walked to the parking lot and wordlessly made our ways to our respective vehicles.
Once we were home, everything carried a silence that seemed impossible to break. In an effort to stall, I went into the kitchen, washed some of the dishes I had previously left there, and finally turned to the phone. My hand reached for it but inside I was thinking should I really do this?
I walked to the living room and found my dad staring blankly at the TV, which was turned off. Silently, I took a seat next to him, not speaking, too afraid to break the silence.
However, the silence would eventually be broken, might as well do it now,
"Dad, are you sure you don't want to do it?" I waited, but received no answer.
"Okay I'll do it then." I spoke mostly to myself as my finger shakily punched in the number.
It rang, and rang, then finally on the fourth ring a very groggy voice answered,
"Hello?"
"Phil, its Bella." My voice was steadier than I felt.
"Bella? Hi, did Renee get there ok? I know she left to see you in such a hurry as if she was being chased by the devil himself."
By that moment, tears began to prick my eyes, "Phil," the trembling in my voice was impossible to conceal.
"Bella?"
"Phil, it's horrible, my dad says that when she got here, instead of calling she rented a car. On her way to Forks she crashed and—"
"WHAT! Oh my god, no. How is she? She's not, you know —"his voice was thick with what I recognized as anguish. He almost literally had to choke his words out.
I was sobbing now, "No, thankfully she's not dead, but she's been through surgery and, it's bad."
"Ok listen Bella, I should be there within a couple of days. How is your father?"
"He's as well as to be expected."
"Ok, well, I'll see you soon. Take care."
The line disconnected.
"Bye." I whispered. Everything went back to silence, only broken by my occasional sniffle.
After a while, I told Charlie goodnight, pecked him on the cheek and went up to my room. I strived to get some much needed sleep, but every time I would close myself to the blackness that was supposed to comfort me, my mothers penetrating dead gaze stared up at me in the rain. Small whimpers left me as I adjusted my bruised body on the bed, but it seemed that comfort wanted to stay as far away from me as possible. Willing myself to ignore the throbbing pain, my gazed rested vacantly up at my dark ceiling. Time distortion followed, the pattering of the rain on the roof became the dull white noise that occupied my comatose state. Sometime later, it could have been five minutes, an hour, or three, darkness claimed me, and I fell into a painful sleep.
The morning brought with it absolutely next to no improvement on my battered body. Most of the bruising had receded, but only marginally. Instead of purely purple, a disgusting yellowish-green had taken over the edges. My face, it seemed, only worsened. The bruising was not as bad as the day before; most of it was yellowish-green excepting the areas that were affected the most. But my marks had strengthened in color, forcing me to use massive amounts of makeup to hide everything.
School required a vast amount of patience on my part. News about my mother's critical condition spread like wild fire.
Everyone watched me, apparently waiting for something to happen. Were they waiting for me in my zombie-like state to start eating people's brains out? Probably not, but they did treat me like a time bomb. Strange was the understatement of the decade, whenever I would walk down the hall, people parted the way as if I was Moses parting the Red Sea, leaving me free to limp through the sea of people. Except for an occasional "sorry about your mom" everyone mostly avoided me like the plague. Even Angela ate her lunch in silence, while I mainly pushed food around on my lunch tray.
Painting was as hard as ever. I yearned for the haze that had possessed me last time, but my mind refused to let me fall again. Without my permission, my body slowly turned itself to look at the offensive painting I created not long ago. It sat there in the dark corner of the classroom, shrouded by the cloth I had pulled over it.
"Come look at me." It said. Okay, maybe the haunting canvas wasn't actually talking, but I couldn't deny the sudden itch in my fingers, and the urge that came over me to go and uncover the painting. With a faltering resistance, my feet took me to the canvas. With quivering hands I carried the painting over to the stand on which I painted it, and let the cloth fall to the floor. My eyes lingered on the dark thing that was carrying my mother into the dark sky.
What the hell was it?
What ever it was, it sent chills up my spine. Shivering, I turned to the window, compelling myself to go to it in order to avoid looking at my creation. While staring at the drizzle outside, a few tears escaped my eyes. Ever since my mother landed in the hospital something hung heavily in my heart. There was no name for it; I only knew it was a mixture of pain, fear, and an inexplicable sense of loss. Everything in me screamed that danger was fast approaching, sadly, nothing told me what I had to be ready for.
My feet led me back to the painting, instead of looking at my mom, I looked at myself. Without thinking, my fingers traced along my outstretched hand to my tear-streaked face.
How could I have done this?
The bell interrupted my brooding. My body operated as if on autopilot. I took biology as an opportunity to distract myself. However, I couldn't ignore the moment Edward entered the room and took his seat next to mine. Nothing had changed between him and I. He still sat as far away from me as possible, and I began to unsuccessfully pretend that he didn't exist.
Mr. Banner began the lecture, and I took copious amounts of notes. I submerged myself in the world of viruses.
My ears barely registered the bell signaling the end of class, the classroom was half empty when I finally came back to my senses. While the students filed out, I took my own sweet time in gathering my things into my bag. As I reached for my pen, a pale hand appeared seemingly out of nowhere over mine. My hand froze under his, and reluctantly, I looked up. Sadness was evident in his eyes, "I'm sorry," Edward said softly, retrieving his hand. Even though his hand was icy, it left a warm sensation on mine.
"I heard about your mother."
I didn't expect this, yet I heard myself answering, "Your dad told you?"
"No—well, yes, but everyone knows about it as well, so I would have found out anyway." He looked oddly uncomfortable, as if he felt guilty about something, but I knew he was entirely blameless. It was when he began looking pointedly at my face that I ducked down, letting my hair shield me from his prying eyes.
"Well thanks, I guess." I made a move to turn and leave, when his hand caught my wrist, making me slowly turn back to him.
"Are those bruises?" his question was like a punch straight to my gut.
My sleeve had unexpectedly risen up a little higher than it was meant to, making some of the bruising on my forearm visible to him.
Shit.
"Uh… I fell." feeling just like a deer stuck in the head lights, I looked up at him with widened eyes.
"You're really not good at lying, what happened?" His eyes betrayed worry, and a possible hint of anger.
"I'm sorry Edward but I don't see how that's any of your business." I tried wrenching my arm from his grasp but his hand tightened around my wrist. Not enough to hurt me, but enough to let me know that he wasn't going to let me go that easily.
What the hell am I going to do now?
The moment he began raising the sleeve up my forearm, his eyes widened and anger blazed in his eyes as he looked at my fading bruises. I took his moment of bewilderment to wrench my wrist from his strong hold, and hastily covered my arm with the sleeve.
"What happened Bella?" He made a move towards me, hand outstretched as if to grab my arm again, I took a step back.
This made him stop. A horrified expression came over his face, as if he was just barely realizing what he was doing, and took a half step back, worry colored his countenance.
"They're on your face too." His statement made me hide myself from him, wondering how on earth he managed to see through all the makeup I had spread on my skin. And like the stupid person I was, I simply stood there, debating whether I should run from the room or not.
"Bella, are you ok? Who did this to you?" My anger flared at his last question for some unknown reason.
"No one did anything to me, just leave me alone and don't tell anyone about what you saw." My voice pathetically took on a begging tone by the end of my statement.
Edward looked torn, but it was clear that underneath was determination.
"I can't do that. someone is hurting you. You have to tell someone."
"Edward, I already told you that no one is hurting me. Why do you care anyway?"
I blurted out the last question before I even thought about it. I saw his eyes widen at my question, mirroring my own. When he didn't answer I pleaded again,
"Please just don't tell anyone." He ran his hand through his hair, and his eyes took on a frustrated, indecisive expression.
"Why?"
His question stumped me.
Should I tell him the truth, even when I didn't truly know who he was? I guess I could—if I had a death wish.
Desperate to make him understand my need to keep my cards under the table, I tried once more.
"Please," I detested the weakness that infused my voice, "nobody can know." I realized that we had subconsciously stepped closer to each other.
His face depicted the raging war that I was sure was going on inside, I could only pray that the outcome would be in my favor.
"Fine," I felt my body visibly relax, "just know that you can come to me if you ever need any help."
I searched his gaze for any sign that he might be lying, but I saw nothing but worry, and surprise at his sudden offer.
Wordlessly, I nodded and turned to leave, however my plans to exit the room without hurting myself were thwarted by the desk that jammed its corner into my stomach.
"Ow! Ow, crap! Why does this keep happening to me?" The complaining tone in my voice was evident as I wrapped my arms around my mid-section. Out of thin air, stone cold arms covered my own,
"Are you alright?" The velvety smoothness of his voice washed over me again, a trace of humor could be detected.
"Yeah, I think so." I tried to get out of his embrace, but his iron strength did not release me.
"At least let me be sure of it. I'm going to help you out to the parking lot." His statement left no room for refusal. He shouldered my bag, and led the way out of the room.
For a moment I couldn't move, where was the Edward that looked as if he wanted to kill me with is dark stare? A smile began to curl the corners of my lips.
Upon realizing that I was not behind him, Edward turned back to me at the door to the classroom with a questioning gaze, "Are you coming?"
His voice broke the spell that had maintained me immobile.
"Can you walk on your own?" He asked once I reached the door. My attempts at hiding my limp were apparently, unsuccessful.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Our walk over to my truck went without conversation, but once I was situated safely inside with my bag on the passenger seat he hesitated before closing the door.
He stood there looking as if he was unsure of what to do, when finally, his next words startled me,
"Bella, I promise you that my dad will do everything possible to care for your mother." His voice burned with a sincerity that was mirrored with an intense look in his golden eyes. I blinked furiously to keep my tears from falling. Desperately trying to avoid bawling in front of him, I nodded, turning my face away so he wouldn't be able to see me break.
"You're going to the hospital?"
I didn't trust myself enough to speak, so again, I nodded. Still looking straight at me, he reached into his own bag and pulled something out,
"I noticed that you didn't eat much today, and you're probably not going to take a detour home, so here." My stare dropped to his hand, and like before, he handed me an apple.
"It isn't much, but I would feel a lot better if you had some food in you." His voice was incredibly gentle and caring, and it totally made my insides melt. Cautiously, I took the apple from him, touched that he would worry so much.
"Why do you worry so much about me?" I really needed to control my case of word vomit.
His eyes were fixed on mine when he practically whispered, "I really don't know."
"Thank you." And at that moment, I truly meant my words. Whenever some one says 'thank you' do they really mean it? Or is it some sort of involuntary reflex drilled into everyone's heads as young kids? I knew that was my case, but this time was different. I was grateful that someone I barely knew was so willing to show some small degree of care towards me.
He simply nodded at my gratitude, and over his shoulder I spotted his family.
Talk about killing the moment.
His siblings were sending us glares that said that they wanted to burn Edward alive. All except for Alice. Her gaze was knowing with a hint of excitement.
"Edward you should go. Your siblings are waiting for you." I nodded towards them as inconspicuously as I could.
He glanced quickly their way and turned back to me, "I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, he walked to his family, who were already in his Volvo, and drove away. I couldn't move for a few moments.
I'll see you tomorrow
His words hung in the air like a promise, but what did that mean for me? It wasn't right for me to have felt the thrill run through me at his final statement, especially not with my mother dying at the moment. Above all, it wasn't right to feel my heart race every time he was near, to loose all train of thought every time he talked or every time he looked at me. I looked at the apple he had given me, still clutched in my hands.
No, it wasn't right.
I turned the key in the ignition letting the roar of the engine drown out all thoughts of Edward from my mind. I went straight to the hospital.
I gave the nurse my mothers name at the front desk and was promptly shown to her room. Before entering the nurse told me that my mother was not going to be the best thing to ever lay eyes on. I brushed her warning aside and entered the room. The door shut behind me with a chilling echo, and I took in the sight of my broken mother.
I instantly regretted not paying any heed to the nurse's warning. My mom's face was swollen with bruising one thousand times worse than mine, she wasn't even breathing on her own, various odd tubes were stuck all over her. Over half of her body was covered in a cast, and dozens of stitches covered the rest. My feet slowly trudged over to her, taking her hand in both of mine, I sat on the hard stool next to her bed and cried softly into the mattress.
What would I do if she were gone?
My eyes dried up some time later. I just sat there chewing on the apple that Edward had given me, absent from all coherent thought.
I came back to myself when my father's warm hand came down on my shoulder.
"Honey, please go home and get some rest, you look exhausted."
And I was. Seeing my mother so—so lifeless had drained me from whatever reserves of energy I had left.
"Ok dad, but you have to come home too. Don't stay here too late. Kay?"
He gave a guy like grunt in response. I freed the stool for him, before I left I hugged him so tightly as if to pour into him my understanding, and my need of him in these dark times.
That night, my mother's crash plagued my dreams.
I woke with an uncharacteristic buzz of energy the next morning.
I'll see you tomorrow
I knew it wasn't healthy. This was the worst time for any sort of distraction, but my mind kept shoving those four little words to the front of my brain, and my whole being felt more alive than ever. I was still weighed down by the sight of my mom on the hospital bed, yet everything in me told me that Edward would be there for me, weird as that sounds.
However, for all of my hoping, his famous shiny Volvo was conspicuously absent from the parking lot.
Suddenly I wasn't feeling so optimistic anymore. My classes dragged, and I had an even harder time trying to concentrate. When lunch arrived, one swift look told me that the Cullen Corner was absolutely deserted.
Feeling utterly betrayed. and for some reason, played, I told Angela that I wasn't very hungry and left for Mrs. Andrews' classroom. I used the key to get in, but once inside, I had no idea what to do. I grabbed my sketch book and began furiously drawing. Did my reserves of stupidity come from the Bottomless Pit of Stupidity? What was I thinking, when I let him get under my skin like that? Worse still, why had my heart hurt when I realized he was not in school?
Furious at myself for acting like a mindless flirt, I sketched furiously through my lunch and Painting periods. When the bell rang for my final class, I put my pencil down to observe my work—only to find Edward staring back at me from the page. I groaned in frustration, and slammed the book shut and, like I was five all over again, practically stomped to class.
My anger only abated when I found myself driving to the hospital; by then it had melted to what it had been before, a profound feeling of despair.
I hardly paused to give the nurse at the desk my mother's name, wanting to just go and be with her as much as I could. When I entered the room, the sight of her broken body hit me head on just like the first time. But when I lowered myself into the stool, my eyes stayed dry. Maybe it had something to do with the white room, or the fact that I was in a hospital, but every time I stepped into an environment like this, it seemed to suck the life out of me like a leech. Placing my hand in my mother's, I hardly noticed how cold her skin was, like the rain at night, the steady beeping of the heart monitor became white noise. A constant reassurance that my mom was still alive. I lost all notion of time, the only thing that existed for what seemed to be a very long time was my mom, the heart monitor, and I. During that time I came to notice how everyone seemed to desert me in one way or another. My mother was teetering on the precipice between life and death, my father was so consumed in his grief that he hardly came to notice my existence in his house.
Edward…
My anger from before flared again.
I'll see you tomorrow.
I cradled my head in my hands, hoping that it would keep that train of thought from resurfacing ever again. It was incredibly ridiculous of me to even assume that I had any right to inquire about Edward's whereabouts. After all, he was nothing to me, he couldn't mean anything to me.
That was when every machine in the room went crazy. The heart monitor was screaming and the breathing machinery was doing only God knows what. My body jumped up, knocking the stool over to the ground, but that was all I could do. The noise was so chaotic and grating on my ears, the only thing my body would do was just stand there as I watched my mother struggle for her life. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness I heard the door being slammed open, and rough hands ushered me out of the room. It was only when I returned to my self that I realized my surroundings were that of the hallway, not my mom's room. I ran to her window, horrified at the utter pandemonium occurring inside.
"Please, no." I found myself whispering to no one.
"Isabella?" I turned to see Dr. Cullen rushing towards me.
"I—I don't know what happened, I was just sitting next to her and then everything went crazy." My voice sounded weird; it was hollow, like I wasn't even in myself.
"Where is your father?"
"He's picking up my mother's husband." I said automatically
With a curt nod, Dr. Cullen rushed inside, and again, I was left with nothing but the window displaying the madness that was going on.
I took to pacing outside her room but eventually I gave that up too, I opted for curling up against the wall across her door.
Eventually Dr. Cullen walked out looking exhausted. As if on instinct, my feet made me jump up waiting for anything to happen.
His countenance held nothing but hopelessness, I stared at him with fear eating at my insides. When he finally looked at me I began to shake my head not wanting to hear his next words.
"She's in a coma."
The news stopped the world.
Everything was running in slow motion. My back pressed against the cold wall and slowly, my knees gave away to my previous curled position on the floor. I distantly heard Dr. Cullen's voice trying to get my attention, and I forced myself to look at him, I probably looked as lost as I felt. His lips were moving but it was as if he was speaking a different language. My mind only understood the last part.
"…she could wake. But don't get your hopes up."
So... what did you think?
