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
