Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight; I don't.

But my words are my own.


BPOV


9.


No!

Sounding the alarm, I hit the "all" button, summoning the battalion.

Everyone's on alert—the Twitterers, Facebookers, and Fanfictioners—for Ed-Doesn't-Want-To-Be-Weird's whereabouts.

I won't surrender.

I know he'll show up somewhere.

He couldn't have just deserted us, deserted me.

I keep willing myself to believe—it's a mistake, just a glitch—he'll be back in no time.

But my reasonable self says my optimism hasn't any basis; it's empty.

My stomach senses the finality of his actions, yet my brain and especially my heart continue the motions.

Ten thousand responses later yield no sightings but a handful of clues.


A/N:

Please share your thoughts.


Thank you to my wonderful beta, Chayasara.


Thank you for reading.

PAD