Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, have no wish to own Twilight, and do not profit monetarily from writing this fanfiction.

10 – NOISY UNCONTROLLABLE HEART-WRENCHING – 10

By the time class is over, I'm seriously wishing I had just refused his offer to give me a ride and ridden my bike. I'm not the only one who noticed his intense look of concern, and Mrs. Najera actually pulled him aside to talk after class. I'd be an idiot to think it wasn't about how he was acting.

My entire body burning in embarrassment, I quickly gather up my things and head out to his jeep to wait for him. He doesn't take long.

I watch him approach, and it's like he doesn't see anything or anyone as he makes a beeline towards me across the parking lot.

"Hey," he says, slowing up as he reaches me.

I say something that sounds like a cross between hey and hi and he grins. I look away.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

The awkwardness of this ride is ten times worse than this morning. In fact, I'm so busy trying to look down and away from Jared that I completely miss that we're not going in the direction of my house. In fact, we're about to leave the reservation entirely.

"Um, where… where are we going?" I say, wary.

He glances at me and grins. "I thought I'd surprise you today. I'm taking you on a date; a real one. Not to my house or your house, and I didn't pack a picnic."

"But…" My voice trails off as we leave the reservation.

"I know this really great restaurant in Port Angeles. It's kind of got the vibe of a coffee shop and they sometimes have live music while people are eating. I figured you'd really like it because it's not like… loud or anything. The atmosphere isn't, I mean."

I open my mouth, unsure what I'm going to say when my phone buzzes in my bag.

'Home early! Where are you?'

It's my mom; my extremely lenient mother who would probably not be too happy to know that I've skipped town with Jared Thail for a romantic rendezvous… and on a school night… without telling her anything.

I open my mouth again. "I have to go home," I say.

"Why?" Jared asks. "It's not like Miss Najera gave us challenging homework, or anything. Hey, if you want, we can do it together. And I know I have to turn that project, but I can probably get that done in my sleep."

"No, it's not…" I start to say, but my voice trails off again. I feel sheepish. And for some reason, the way he talks about the project bothers me.

I'm probably being silly, though. My mom has always been pretty cool about things, and even though I've never done anything remotely close to this, I'm sure she would understand if it just… slipped my mind to call her before we left school.

Resigned, I pick up my phone. "I just… I have to call my mom and let her know."

"Yeah, cool, should I be really quiet? Should I pull over?" he asks.

I give him a confused look.

"So, you know, you can come up with something and she won't hear you. You can say we're working on another project or doing homework or something."

I feel my face getting hot. "I… I wasn't going to lie to her."

"I thought you said she wouldn't let you date?" he asks.

I blush harder. Oh, right. I did say that, didn't I?

I look away from him. "Sh-she knows we're friends," I say, really quietly. She knows we're more than that. After all, it's not my mom that I'm lying to, it's Jared.

I dial her number quickly and she answers on the first ring.

"Hi Kimmy! Where are you? I brought us some food for the diner because I didn't really feel like cooking tonight. Are you on your way?"

"No, I'm actually, um..." And just like that, I suddenly feel like I'm going to cry.

"Kim? Is everything okay?" Mom asks on the other line, as Jared slowly coasts to the side of the road to pull the car over.

Jeez, what's wrong with me?

"Fine," I say, my voice wobbly. "J-Jared and I are… we're um…" on our way to Port Angeles. It's on the tip of my tongue, but if I say another word, the tears will escape.

Jared has managed to pull the car to a complete stop by this time, and he effortlessly plucks the cell phone from my hand. For a split second, I'm horrified at the presumption that he's going to hang up on my mom, but he doesn't. Instead, he puts the phone to his ear.

"Hi Ms. Connweller, it's Jared. Kim didn't have such a great day in school today and that's totally my fault for dropping the ball on our school project, so I thought I'd take her out to Port Angeles as an apology…" He pauses as he listens to my mom talk, and surprisingly, I find myself hoping she'll get upset and demand that I be brought back home.

"Yeah, you're right. I wasn't thinking. I should've had her call you or asked you directly first if it was okay," Jared says, politely. He pauses again.

"Yes, definitely. We won't be out too late at all," he grins and my stomach sinks while it simultaneously catches butterflies. It's the weirdest feeling.

"Cool, thanks, Ms. Connweller. Bye," Jared hangs up and hands my phone back over, cool as ever.

I wipe my few fallen tears away ungracefully, grateful at least that my nose isn't running.

"Ready to go?"

No. I want to say. No, I just want to go home. But he's smiling at me and being so nice and he talked to my mom for me, and this is his way of making things up to me… I swallow my sigh and nod –

- nod at everything he says, although it should be clear that I'm not really listening. I wonder again what time it is. We've been out here for a couple hours already and it's no short drive back.

I'm upset. I'm getting more upset by the minute and I didn't really want to come, don't really want to be here, and I feel like it should show on my face, but either it doesn't or he's totally ignoring it. Either way, I hate that I'm too nervous to speak up or do anything about it. It's not like he would keep me here against my will or anything. I'm sure that as soon as I say something, I can be on my way back to La Push. Yeah, it'll probably be a really awkward ride back, but…

" – and Paul says that Emily's doing better, and it's really Sam we should be worried about. He just feels so guilty about – well, that he wasn't there, I guess."

I tune back in, completely lost. I have no idea what Jared is talking about.

"I'm thinking about taking you to meet them next week, depending on what Sam says."

Without asking me. Again.

The upset feeling abruptly turns to frustration and it must suddenly be showing on my face because he stops talking in the middle of a sentence.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking startled.

I shake my head and look down, staring into my own lap. My hair falls in front of my face, partially hiding me from his view. I can't say it. Even now, when I'm so… upset, I can't just look him in the eye and tell him how I feel. What is wrong with me? Is it because I feel guilty? Because of how I stormed his house yesterday and demanded he hand the project over to me?

I feel myself blush. Is it possible that I can only ask for what I want when I'm angry? It is that I have to wait for the feelings to swell up and explode before I can express myself?

I can't do that. I have to –

"Do you want to go?" he asks, the concern practically oozing off of him.

I look up at him. He genuinely looks as upset as I feel. Is it even fair to be upset or angry with him when I'm the one who can't – who won't – speak up?

I bring my palm up to my face as my tears overflow, again. I'm always crying. Always crying, and never doing anything. I'm tired of this.

I nod, as I choke on a sob. I still can't say what it –

- it would be too easy.

I wouldn't have to do much. Just shuffle forward a few feet. And lean, maybe. I could make it look like an accident.

My eyes swept across the station, searching for signs of someone watching me. I had a theatre professor once that told my class that when we were on stage, we were being watched at every moment, all the time, by at least one audience member, even if we didn't feel all that significant. Whether it was true or not, it was helpful towards staying in character.

I wondered who was watching me now.

I stared at the ground, at the row of yellow light circles that aligned the edge of the foundation. They started to blink, slower, and then faster, a warning to Deaf people that a train was approaching.

If I was going to do it, it would have to be now. I needed to be closer.

I surged forward with a few dozen others. This wasn't even my train. I wondered if someone would catch that, later on, if someone would wonder where I was going and wonder why if this wasn't my train, why I was so close to the track.

The train sounded its horn loudly, causing the obvious tourists in the crowd to jump, look around at each other, and giggle at their novice mistake.

Gotcha. We know who you are now.

If I was going to do it, it would have to be now. I couldn't afford to think about other people this time, whether someone's life would be ruined because first one person would claim I was pushed, and a dozen others would swear they saw the whole thing. The person second closest to me would be turned in by the person right next to me, who could've saved me, but didn't because she was too horrified and simultaneously worried that she would be blamed if she tried and failed.

I spared a glance at her. She was blonde, mid-thirties. Judging by her appearance, I would guess she was a "cool mom" who insisted on shopping at the same stores as the teenage daughter she was too young to have.

My death wouldn't affect her, much. Nah, she would just thank her lucky stars that she hadn't screwed her own daughter up quite as much, and then pop one more sleeping pill than usual tonight.

I could see it approaching now. The lights coming out of the tunnel. People pressed behind and beside me. I was surrounded. I couldn't back up if I wanted to. If I didn't do it, if I didn't do it right this second, I was going to have to get on this train.

But on the train is not where I wanted to be.

I glanced at the blonde woman again. She glared at me. I smiled at her, hoping it was apologetic, hoping it would make up somewhat for the fact that I was about to completely ruin her day.

But it probably wouldn't. My smile would probably haunt her for a little while, instead. Maybe. I hoped not.

I was out of time now, so I closed my eyes and took a step forward into nothingness.

I stare at the lines in my diary, a little sickened by what I've just written. I've never… been quite so dark before. And it's also been a long time since I've written about anything other than Jared.

But… it's good. I reread it. It's really good. I like it. I'm impressed by it. It sounds nothing like me.

On a whim, and probably more than a little adrenaline, I power up my computer and transfer the words from my diary to a blank document. I search around my room until I find the small card that Shavon in Port Angeles gave me.

I attach the document to my email address, label the email Writing Group and type: Is this too much for your writing group or is it allowed? I've never written anything for anyone but myself, but I guess I just wanted a second opinion this time. I was in Port Angeles today and -

I erase the last line. I'm overthinking it. Instead I just put: Is this too much for your writing group or is it allowed? I've never written anything for anyone but myself, but I wanted a second opinion this time. Thank you. I sign my name K. Connweller, not Kim, or Kimmy, or Kimberly, and before I lose my nerve completely, I hit send.

Then, I jump a foot into the air when my mom knocks on my bedroom door.

"Kim? Are you home?"

I nod, before remembering that she can't see through walls. "Y-Yes, I'm here."

"Can I come in? I want to talk to you." She waits, and I feel something like dread filling me up.

"Y-Yes," I stammer.

She opens my bedroom door and sure enough, she looks unhappy… and disappointed.

"I'm going to get right to it," she says, crossing her arms. "I don't like what happened today. Jared Thail is a perfectly nice boy and all, but I trust you because you talk to me, and I never have to ask you what's going on. You usually tell me, and when you didn't, it makes me wonder if you think I'd have had a different opinion about you going up to Port Angeles – "

"I'm sorry, Mom," I interrupt her, my face burning. "I didn't even want to go. I thought… I thought Jared was taking me home, but he started driving away and – " She interrupts me right back, which is probably a good thing because I was starting to, unintentionally, make Jared sound like a kidnapper.

"Whose fault is that? If you didn't want to go, you should've said so," she says, raising her eyebrows.

"I know," I say, miserably.

"Look," Her voice softens, "I know you like Jared, Bunny, but if you're in a situation where you feel like you can't talk to him or he doesn't listen to you, then maybe you shouldn't put yourself into that situation. However, if you do say no, and he continues to push you or pressure you into anything, you come straight to me. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"Kimberly Connweller, you have to learn how to stand up for yourself and what you want, otherwise how will anyone ever know what you're thinking?" She says, but I know it's a rhetorical question.

I sigh. "I know," I say again.

She crosses the room then and hugs me tightly where I'm sitting. "I love you more than anyone," she says and kisses me on the forehead.

I hug her back just as tightly. I think she's the only person in the world that I can honestly say I love without any doubt. I don't know if that makes me sad or happy.

She cracks a joke then that takes the frown off my face before she yawns and says she's heading to bed.

As soon as she leaves, the frown returns, because now I know what I have to do. I just have no idea how to -

- to write to him comes to me in the middle of the night, and I feel like I can't go back to sleep until I get up and do it. Yawning widely, I climb out of bed and turn the light on in my room, blinking in the sudden brightness.

I reach for a piece of paper and a pen and I start putting words to paper. If I can't physically talk to Jared, then maybe this is the next best thing.

Once I have everything written that I want to say, I fold up the letter and put it in an envelope that I place immediately into my bag. I don't want to forget it at home by mistake tomorrow, or more accurately, later today.

I climb back into the bed and fall asleep the second I hit the pillow.

My alarm clock seems to wake me up the instant I fall asleep. It's like I closed my eyes and someone hit fast-forward on everything. The feeling continues as I get ready for school, but that's only because I'm really not looking forward to the day.

I look at my bed longingly, wanting to climb back into it, but that would be a bad idea and my mom would most definitely get mad, especially after yesterday.

I shower and dress quicker than I want to, eat breakfast much quicker than I want to, and peek out of the front window. My heart sinks, then it starts to pound. Jared's here.

I steel myself. The power is in your hands, Kim, I tell myself. You have to tell him how you feel… what you want. Okay… okay.

I open the door, the letter clutched in my hand. Would it better if I went for my bike first? It would allow me to make a quick getaway. Or I could… give it to him after school? It's almost Friday. I could wait until then… give us both until Monday before we really have to speak again.

Even as I thinking these things, my feet betray me and lead me down the walkway towards him.

He gets out of the car before I can reach him and comes around to hold the passenger door open for me. My heart hurts.

"Um," I say, ungracefully. I try to smile, but I'm sure it doesn't come off that way. I feel my face kind of scrunch up, so I give up, and instead hold the letter out to him.

"What's this?" He looks surprised, hopeful even. I feel sick.

I can't do this. I realize I'm really not going to be able to do this. My mother is going to kill me, but I open my mouth to mumble, "I'm quitting summer school."

Then, I hightail it back up the walkway and fumble with the key until I manage to get the door open. I close it, not sure if he is following me or not. I lock it, double lock it, and sprint all the way up to my room, where I slam my bedroom door, lock that as well, and fling myself onto the bed dramatically.

Well, not really. I sort of fall onto the bed, flat on my face and stay there until I can't breathe, my heart pounding like I've just run a marathon. And won. And then I burst into tears; loud, noisy, uncontrollable, heart-wrenching, my soul is hurting tears.

Because I just did the unthinkable.

Because I handed Jared Freaking Thail a letter detailing exactly how I feel about him.

And then I broke up with him.

Dear Jared,

I want to start off by saying I'm sorry I can't do this in person. I'm a coward. I find it really hard to talk to you in real life, but I think I'm a better writer than a talker, so I thought I would try to talk to you this way instead.

I'm sorry for being a total weirdo and freaking out on you yesterday instead of just saying I didn't want to go to Port Angeles. Sometimes words get stuck behind my tongue and even though they're right there, they won't come out.

I swear I'm not trying to get you to pity me or tell me that I'm pretty again, but I don't understand why you like someone who doesn't talk to you, who's hardly ever talked to you. I've always thought you were a great person, and I guess I can be fearless enough in this letter to say that I even had a big crush on you for a long time, and since I'm being honest, I probably always will.

I should get to the point, though. This is a break-up letter. In school today, I'm going to pull Mrs. Najera aside and tell her that I'm quitting summer school, and that I'll take the F and make up the class in the fall.

None of it is your fault. I just don't think I can handle sitting near you knowing that I'm not dating you anymore and knowing that it's because I couldn't speak up enough to tell you simple things like I don't like when people make decisions for me. I can't date anyone with the way I am now. I don't trust myself to make good decisions for me. I know you wouldn't take advantage of me if you actually knew how I felt or what I was thinking, but if I'm too scared to tell you, you're never going to know.

So that's it. I'm not brave enough to be your girlfriend, or anyone's girlfriend. And it's totally embarrassing that I'm even giving you this letter in the first place, so I'm sorry if this hurts you, but I can't be your friend, either. Please don't text me or come to my house anymore.

Sorry again and sincerely,

Kimberly Connweller

- FadingSlowly

I couldn't make this chapter as long as the others without making the letter super lengthy and sappy, and it was very hard not to do that because I so owe you guys if any of my original readers are still reading this. Hi everyone! I've been gone. I'm back now. These are not excuses, but I have a crazy ton of things going on in my life now: Such as, I'm pregnant! Ahhh! By my "imprint" that I mentioned at the end of last chapter. Also, we're engaged. Ahhh! Also, I moved to a different state, so now I live about an hour away from Nashville, TN. Ahhh! (Again). Also, did I happen to mention that my imprint's name is Jasper? Funny, right? Just throwing that out there. (No, he's not a vampire, before you ask, and his last name isn't Cullen or Hale). But yeah, with the baby growing bigger and all, and me having type 1 diabetes, it's getting harder and harder for me to find a job out here, especially since I've been in the hospital for a few days again. Dark side? No monies. Bright side? All the time in the world to write. Brighten it up a little more and tell me what you think of this chapter? Thank you, as always, for reading!