Insomnia
Chapter 9
My relationship with Jasper teetered dangerously on the edge for another week. He would pick me up every morning, drive me to school, walk me to each of my classes, save a table for me at lunch, drive me back to the Webers' house. Two days earlier, he had taken to asking me any question that popped into his head, asking things such as what my favorite color was, or what my favorite book was. I was immensely thankful that he avoided delving into the topic he was the most interested in - I wasn't ready to tell him that. To tell anyone that.
As I stared unseeingly at my math homework, I couldn't ignore the feeling that I should turn on my cell phone. All day I had caught myself absently reaching for it. Every time I'd stopped myself in hopes of the feeling vanishing, but the feeling had only intensified as the hours wore on.
I was tapping my pencil against my notebook now, keeping my hand busy. Another lapse in attention would surely mean I would grab the small silver device sitting next to me. Its close proximity did not lessen the nagging sensation. I figured I should put it away, but something stopped me.
Shifting uncomfortably, I tried and failed to concentrate on the page full of math problems before me. It was no use. All I could think of was the phone.
"Fine, fine. You win," I grumbled to myself, snatching the cell phone and turning it on, impatiently waiting for it to start up. Not two minutes after I set it back down across from me on the bed did it ring loudly, signifying that I'd received a text message. It could only be one of three people: Cynthia, my mom, or my dad. I wasn't sure why I had a cell phone in the first place, seeing as I didn't have anyone to call, but my parents had insisted that I carry one with me at all times back when I'd lived in Biloxi.
It was much to my relief to see the familiar number. Cynthia.
Mom's calling in a few. Just a heads up.
Miss you tons.
xx Cynthia
All of the color drained from my face.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
I was trying to leave my past behind, get over everything that had happened before Forks. I'd been so sure that I would be able to get away without speaking to either of my parents for at least a few months. Why would my mother call me? What motive did she have? She didn't care about me.
Blankly, I stared at the text message, reading it and rereading it in hopes that the text would somehow change to read a different message, to be nothing more than a friendly greeting from my little sister.
But no, no matter how many times I read the text message, the words remained the same.
There was only one thing I could do. Wait.
The seconds dragged by, each one feeling like an hour. My phone lay silently next to me, though it seemed to grow bigger with each passing minute. It was almost as though it was taunting me, for it knew that I could do nothing about my present situation. I could turn off the wretched thing, but my mother would throw a hissy fit if I didn't answer, thinking I was avoiding her. In her perfect little world, I didn't have a reason to be angry with her. After all, she was 'helping' me get over my supposed mental illness. My parents had known about my insomnia for years, and had never done anything about that, but the moment anything they thought was too abnormal about me they had sprung into action.
Sighing, I leaned against my pillows and rubbed my forehead, my anxiety level gradually growing. Why couldn't it just ring already? I almost wished that I'd had no warning. I could have been saved all of this unnecessary stress. Then again, if I'd been taken completely off guard by the call, I probably wouldn't have been able to make words come out of my mouth.
What felt like a lifetime later, my phone finally rang, my ringtone breaking the silence, and buzzed across my bed. I hesitated before grabbing it and pressing it to my ear, not entirely sure I wanted to go through with this, but it was better now than later. I couldn't hide forever.
"Hello?" I asked formally, despite the fact I knew exactly who it was. Giving Cynthia away would only mean bad things for her.
"Mary?" my mom demanded. "Yes, it's you, of course it is..."
I ground my teeth together. She had called me Alice all my life. Since when had I become Mary? The last person I could remember calling me Mary before I had come to Forks had been my preschool class' student teacher.
"Yes, it's Alice," I confirmed dryly.
"How are things over there in Forks?" she asked casually, ignoring my correction. I wondered what she was getting at - she wouldn't have called just to check up on me. Actually caring was out of character for her.
"Fantastic," I deadpanned, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "How's Cynthia holding up?"
There was a moment of silence. I automatically assumed the worst. Just as I opened my mouth to voice my accusations, my mother said, "She's okay. A little lonely, though. We're considering sending her to public school so she can make some friends."
I bit my lip, wondering how well my sister would adapt to the change. She, like myself, wasn't exactly fond of big changes. It took me longer to react to things, though. She would go right into hysterics if something changed that she couldn't handle. I, on the other hand, would bottle it all up for days, even weeks, and once I couldn't hold my emotions in any longer, I broke down.
"Great," was all I could manage to say, unsure of what I felt. Where was Jasper when I needed him? He would have been able to tell me exactly what my emotions were.
Another long stretch of silence. I didn't want to be the one to break it. Momentarily, I hoped that she'd hung up, or fallen asleep, or something, but no, eventually my mother spoke. "Don't forget that your first appointment with Dr. Campbell is on Monday, dear."
That set me off. Dear? She thought she could call me dear? After all of the things she'd let happen to me, she still thought she was entitled to the right of calling me dear?
"Dear? Don't bother pretending to care - you and I both know that you don't," I spat, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turned white.
"Alice, you know that he - we - only did what we did for your own good. We didn't want our oldest daughter to suffer-"
I cut her off. "You still think you can call me your daughter, after all of this? No, you more or less disowned me when you sent me here. You have no right to call me your daughter anymore, Sally."
"I'm sorry. Your father-" she paused, as though she weren't sure she wanted to continue, "-and I didn't want to do what we did, but we had to," my mom said softly. I didn't believe her for a second. If she cared, if she really cared, she would have never let my dad send me here. She would have stood up for me. "I miss you."
I was beyond furious, though I knew my fury was unjustly directed at her. Only a fool would have been able to miss the underlying pain in her words, but, honestly? I didn't have it in me to forgive her for what she let happen. She had just let my dad send me away. How could she miss me if she hadn't tried to stop him?
"Yeah, save your remorse for someone who believes it."
Not giving her the chance to respond, I snapped my phone shut and threw it down onto the bed - I must have stood up at some point during the conversation. My arms were shaking, and my desire to tear something apart was stronger than I could recall it ever having been before in my life.
How dare she phone me, just thinking she could waltz back into my life, uninvited? Had I not made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her - with them - anymore?
I stood staring at my duvet for a few moments, seething, before finally deciding that being cooped up in the Weber house would accomplish nothing except perhaps scaring the living daylights out of every single human being in the vicinity with my building anger. Breathing deeply, I forced my legs carry me in the general direction of my bedroom's door, twisting the doorknob with more force than necessary and stomping down the stairs.
"I'm going out," I told my aunt curtly. She looked up from the dishes and nodded, her expression twisting into one of confusion as she registered my mood. "I don't know when I'll be back, so don't worry about me."
Not waiting for a response, I stormed out the front door, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. Why did I always have to cry? Why couldn't I keep control of myself, like everyone else? After all, if I had self-control, I would be in Forks in the first place. Perhaps I did need this treatment from Dr. Campbell, just for different reasons than my parents believed. I wasn't crazy as they were convinced I was.
Was I?
I was almost positive that I couldn't have just dreamt up Jasper on my own when I was fifteen. The odds were stacked against that possibility. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder...
Without realizing it, I had walked quite far into the forest bordering the house. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I kicked at a bush, sending the raindrops resting there flying through the air. Why was I doubting myself now? For years I'd been so sure of myself, so positive that I was simply different. And now... it was pathetic. I was pathetic,
Whatever was watching over me certainly wasn't feeling generous. Was it not enough to tear away my old life away? Did I have to have the sense of security I had been lulled into snatched away as well? My beliefs? Did all that have to be taken away, too?
Lashing out at shrubbery wasn't accomplishing anything, I realized. In fact, I could feel my chest tightening painfully, and my breathing was quickening with each step I took. I let out a sob, feeling more than desperate. Now was not the time for my asthma to act up. I'd left my inhaler back at the Webers' house.
Instead of putting any more strain on myself than necessary, I gave into myself, for once, and allowed myself to crumple into a heap beside a tree, the effort of staying on my feet not seeming worth it.
I don't know how long I sat there, curled into a ball amongst the mud and grass, and I wasn't entirely sure when it had begun to rain, or if it had really begun to rain at all, and I was just covered in sweat and tears.
What I did know, however, was that when I opened my eyes, night had fallen, and I was no longer alone.
"Jasper?" I peered up at the tall figure in front of me.
"Alice?" His surprised tone matched mine exactly.
"Go 'way," I muttered, turning my face back into my knees.
I could practically feel his determination. No one ever listened to me. "No, I'm not leaving you out here. Come on." A split second later, two strong arms lifted me from the ground. I struggled weakly for a few moments before deciding that it wasn't worth the effort. What use would it be to resist a vampire, anyways?
"Where are we going?" I asked weakly, my chattering teeth making it hard to speak.
Unfortunately, I never got an answer, for before I could even stumble in whatever direction we were heading in, I had collapsed from exhaustion.
