Chapter 8 – Finding Home
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Half in sunlight
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And half in shade
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Words in collision
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I bend to your shape
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I fly down the stairs, the quick tread of my feet in tandem with the quick thumping of my heart. Blood rushes through my veins, roaring in my ears, and my head throbs at the sudden jolting it's taking. But I don't slow down. I sure as heck don't stop.
I can't tell if he's following me or not because my body is beating too noisily in my ears. If I'm lucky, maybe he's still turned around where I left him.
Maybe.
The front door is easy to find as it's the only one with any light spilling out from under it. I pull it open and dart outside without any hassle. Then I run.
Only when I've been running for as long and hard as I can, until my lungs are burning and my head feels like it's fit to bursting, do I stop. When I come to a complete halt I cast a nervous glance behind me.
The house has disappeared, swallowed back up by the forest.
I let out a relieved breath, listening for a minute for any sounds. When I hear none, I slink down onto a nearby rock and drop my head into my palms. My heart beat starts to slow as I once more take comfort in being in the familiar arms of alone.
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In the daylight, the forest is not nearly so menacing. The sweet sound of the birds and the gentle breeze that caresses the trees feels so much friendlier in the light of day. I recall why I was drawn here yesterday afternoon, but halt my mind before it can spiral any further.
All this green and peace turns out to be a most welcome distraction.
Every ten minutes or so I pull out my phone to check for signal. I figure that way I could at least tell if I was nearing civilisation, but the bars remain unhelpfully empty. After hours of walking – in circles, for all I knew – I come to a stop.
As the day had progressed, the sun had only grown higher and hotter. I feel it now, beating down on me relentlessly. Yesterday's storm seemed to have cleared the air for a rare sunny day in Forks, which wasn't great . . . but I suppose anything beat the rain and wind I'd been caught in last night. Grumbling, I pull off my coat, wiping my nose on my sleeve for what seemed like the hundredth time.
I tug on my hair as I sink to my knees, pressing my forehead against the forest floor – because the soil still held some of the damp – and threw my coat over my head to ward off the incongruous sun.
My forehead pounds and I sniffle.
I would never again wander off if I could just find home.
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Edward had known she was going to run before he even turned around. There was something tight and desperate in her face that told him she wouldn't stay. And even though he knew this, even as he listened to the muffled sound of her feet turning on the carpet, the quiet way she grasped the brass metal before darting away, her feet hitting the stairs in a way which resonated throughout Edward's body, making him feel a little more hollow with each step she took away . . . even though he knew, even as he heard and felt . . . still, he let her go.
He let her go.
Moments before she had first awoken, Edward had pulled himself away from her bedside, flying across the room until he was out of the window and sitting on the roof.
He couldn't really explain his strange behaviour, but his heart had been beating so quickly in his chest at the time, so he never stopped to analyse his actions. Instead, he listened as the human rose from their sleep, his hearing focused so intently on the sound of her breathing, the rustle of the sheets as she moved.
When he heard the soft tread of her footfalls on the carpet – heading away from him – he couldn't stay away any longer. He leapt from the roof through the window and into the room in a single bound. His landing was silent.
But for a moment he stood immobile.
Her back was to him . . . and all that hair tumbled down her shoulders to the middle of her spine like thick ivy. He gazed at the curled ends hugging her snow-white skin in fascination, recalling the feel of it between his fingers as he stroked it across the floor last night, wanting to feel it now . . .
He stared until he heard her hand on the doorknob.
She had only rested it there, but to his ears it sounded like a blow.
The please was out of his mouth before he could stem it. It seemed to arrive from someplace new, as it made him think that even if he could have stopped it, he wouldn't have.
He knew what he was pleading for. He didn't want her to go. The switch in his demeanour from yesterday morning to now was confounding – indeed, he might have laughed at the prospect of coming to be so entangled with a human only 24 hours ago. But he wasn't laughing now.
He was waiting.
She had slept for hours, so peacefully. But now that she was awake, he didn't want her to leave before he could see her face again, this time animated with life.
When she eventually had turned around, he was unprepared.
Asleep she was tantalising, tempting; something to watch over and wonder. Awake she was . . .
She was blinding.
He'd stood in frozen shock while he watched her eyes flash at him. He caught them from across the room – the splash of inviting brown that reminded him of the warm barks of the trees in the summer.
They burned him.
His heart leapt up to his throat, and he couldn't help it.
He took a step forward.
With her hair like climbing ivy, her eyes like warm trees and her skin like the pale snow canvas of the sky – how could he resist?
But then she'd thrown her arms up, she'd yelled, "Stop!"
So he had.
In the ensuing moments of stillness, where he watched her arms tremble as she held them out in front of her, and her gaze dart away from his he felt . . . strange. He hadn't thought about how she'd react, but this didn't seem good.
She had asked about her clothes. Twice. Edward's response was empty the first time because he was having a hard time concentrating – a sudden flush had bloomed in her cheeks just as she'd said the words – and Edward found himself in sensory overload. But when she'd snapped her gaze to his – that warm brown, the same rich colour as her hair – he'd found his voice again.
"I removed them," he'd said.
Strangely, he watched the red in her cheeks drain at his response. They suddenly turned pale again, and a feeling of worry niggled at his stomach.
Her whispered why had sounded so forlorn, but he didn't know why.
He'd told her his reasons with a heavy feeling of confusion settling inside of him. He thought it should have been obvious. What other possible cause could he have for removing her clothes?
When she had dropped her arms it felt like he had done something right. Feeling so pleased, he'd almost took another step forward. But then his gaze had dropped downwards, and he was suddenly aware again of her unclothed state. From even across the room, he could see the tiny bumps on her arms and something gnawed at his stomach in worry again.
She had been so cold last night, and now she didn't have the thick duvet for protection anymore. And Edward knew – and as was so clearly demonstrated last night – humans were so very fragile.
His eyes had darted over to the bed so quickly then right back to hers. He looked at her and his lips had offered out an urgent please again.
But she'd only asked for her clothes again.
A swell of guilt had crept up on him as he realised that her clothes were still lying in a heap on the floor. He knew they were still wet, but she had been insistent on getting them back. When she had crept closer to retrieve them, Edward gaze remained steadfastly fixed on her. She was within arm's reach, and her eyes were so deep even though she wouldn't look directly at him.
He had been so lost in staring at her – again – that she was back across the room and asking him to turn around before he realised she was no longer closer enough to touch.
Her skin was hidden and her eyes were determined. He had known.
He had known that when he turned around she would be gone.
But still, he obeyed her request.
His gaze left her for the first time since she'd awoken.
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It had taken Edward two seconds to realise his mistake.
Five for the panic to mount.
Seven to yell at himself for his immobility.
Nine for the rush of empty that made him wince.
And ten until he was down the stairs, out of the house, and sky high as he tracked the human running away from him and into the forest.
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I let myself rest there, on the forest floor, knowing very well that it was only succeeding in wasting time, but unable to summon all the guilt necessary as I find a momentary shelter.
But Charlie's face rears again, making me bang my forehead against the earth. I hate knowing that he's probably worrying over me somewhere – it won't be home because he won't be able to sit still. He'll be looking for me, this I know. Just like he went looking for her.
Only he had been too late then.
I heave out a groan, shaking my head from side to side to try to wipe the horrible feeling away. But it lingers, clinging onto the thread bare fibres in my mind. They never truly leave, and the pain is bearable only when it's ignored.
It is so much easier not to feel.
Being alone keeps me safe.
But I keep heart for Charlie even if I don't show it via gregarious gestures; a hug to say hello or a kiss on the cheek goodnight. I'll always love him too much, because he's all I have left, and the only person I don't want to leave me.
I don't want him to think I've left him, too.
So I snap my eyes open, my arms pushing up off the ground. But before I can, I feel something hard and solid encircle my waist, lifting me up and then picking me up. The coat is removed from my head and all I can do for a moment is blink in the bright sunlight.
I turn my head to find my gaze inches away from the boys, and level, because he's holding me like I'm a baby.
I blink again, because his eyes are brighter than the sun.
"Please," he whispers softly, his voice holding the gentle dulcet tones of a lullaby. "Let me help you."
I don't say yes and I don't say no.
Instead I say, brokenly, "I just want to go home."
He nods and his eyes are pillow-soft like he understands. Maybe he does.
One minute we're on the ground.
And in the next, we're in the air.
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A/N: Have to admit, giggled a little when writing – "What other possible cause could he have for removing her clothes?" Edward is 100% winning in the adorably clueless department. :')
Might not get a chapter out tomorrow because my brother is coming back from his holiday and he might want to talk to me (probably consisting of him reprimanding me for not having started watching Game of Thrones yet). You guys know how it is.
Either way... see you soon!
