Ch. 10

The Chasm Runs Deep

Bella:

I feel like everyone's looking at me. Like they know something is terribly wrong with me. I hear voices in my head and have hallucinations . . . and I like it. What does that mean?

But it's not entirely my fault. I have no control over what the hallucinations look like. Why can't he just be some regular boy like that average guy over there? I glanced toward the sandy haired teen walking along the beach, hands clasped with an equally average girl. He noticed my conspicuous stare and gave me a wink, which made his girlfriend none too happy. I looked over my shoulder, searching for a hidden person behind me, but there was no one. Surely he couldn't possibly mean that for me. I was just as average, maybe even more so. He smiled then—triggering a slap from the livid girl—and I quickly diverted my eyes, an all too familiar warmth spreading over my cheeks. It wouldn't be so obvious if I only had a tan, but that was a matter of humor. I could already feel the slight burn on my ivory skin.

I felt a gentle nudge on my arm. "Bella, dear? Are you listening to me?"

I immediately felt impolite; Aunt Mae had been talking to me, and I had missed every last bit of it because of my wayward thoughts. They always seemed to revert back to him, that strangely beautiful face in my mind.

"Sorry. I was just thinking. Go ahead."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked me politely, giving me the option of denying easily.

I thought about it. It wasn't easy to share my feelings and thoughts, never had been, except with Renee. But Mae offered that same ear to listen, and she gave a little more—the maternal nature that had mostly been absent with my own mother. I had always taken on that role, and perhaps now it would be nice to hand over my old position.

I smiled sheepishly. "You'll laugh. It sounds crazy."

"I promise I won't."

I hesitated, gathering my thoughts. "Don't say I didn't warn you." I took a deep breath and plunged on. "The past few days I've been having these vivid dreams and, here's the crazy part, hallucinations . . . I start hearing things that I know aren't real. . ." I could feel the heat of the blush plastered permanently on my face.

"Hmm . . . Hallucinations you say? Like you're seeing things?" Her voice held no contempt or mockery in it, which calmed me, and I could feel the heat begin to recede.

"Well, yes. It started the first day we were out here. Jake took me riding, and suddenly, it just happened. I was wide awake, but yet I was having these dreams that seemed so real. It's strange; I can't control them . . . And then last night, he was speaking to me, which was a first. This sounds bizarre, but it seems so familiar."

I hadn't intended to spill everything like that, but she put me at ease. It was like she had the ability to calm my nerves. I had another wave of déjà vu, but I shook it off. It made no sense at all—the illusions, the voices, the feeling of disconcerting familiarity. I was falling apart, imploding, starting with my mind.

"I've heard stranger stories than that, dear, so don't worry. You're not losing your mind. There are many legends in our tribe that would explain why this is happening to you, but the truth is, most are not completely logical, so I'll give you the rational version that I learned in Psych. Sometimes when our minds are under a lot of stress, they have to find other ways to cope. You've been dealing with a lot of stress lately, so that seems plausible. Another explanation could be that you have something repressed, and it's just trying to get out. It's another coping mechanism."

"Repressed." I repeated. "Like what?" I wasn't sure why, but this possibility grabbed my attention and held it.

"Like memories or thoughts, anything really. Just whatever your mind can't deal with. It sort of locks it away until you can, I guess. And then one day, your subconscious gets a mind of its own and shows you all these little signs. It's confusing and definitely scary when you believe you're going crazy, but it's just your way of working through the stress. Most of the time, familiar environments, objects, or even people trigger the mind, and suddenly, you just remember, like it had never been repressed at all. They do that with people who have amnesia, and then everything just falls into place. It's similar; if it works for them, it might work for you. The only question is, who or what is going to unlock your secrets." She glanced over at me, and her eyes twinkled in the bright sunlight.

Despite the warm beam of light, I shivered. I didn't know why, but this was all very strange. If she was correct, then what memories had I unconsciously hidden and why? Had the shock of moving to Forks and leaving behind my mom and my comfort zone sent me off the edge? Maybe all the while, even as everything seemed fine, I had really been plunging into the dark unknown of the abyss and didn't realize.

I shivered again. I no longer felt whole. My body felt like it was shattered into a million different pieces, scattered across the surface of the bottom of the abyss. How was I to put myself back together when everything was in ruins? I would need help, but who was bold enough to throw himself down into the chasm with me and save me?

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my chest. A sudden ache wound its way through my torso, seizing my heart and squeezing until it felt like I was on the verge of rupturing. I drew in a ragged breath, willing myself to hold it together. I couldn't lose it here with Aunt Mae. If I didn't even know what was happening to me, then how was she likely to understand why my body was shutting down.

I had to be strong. I had to figure this thing out, to find the source of my dull ache and apparent mental distress. I had to reveal the repressed memories that my mind was stifling. I had to bare them, so that I could finally start to piece myself back together. These missing links were like the border of a puzzle; without them, you couldn't fill in the middle and complete the picture. I was this confused picture with millions of tiny pieces in disarray, waiting patiently to be united. But who was to be my sculptor?

*****

Jacob:

Life is like a game of chess; I don't understand it and I don't care to. It's unpredictable, frustrating, and your plan always get foiled by another. As is the case now.

Walker thinks I'm delusional, among other things and refuses to participate in my plan. I can honestly say I know how Sam felt when I was going through my transformation. I was just plain, down right obnoxious. And rude. But that can't be helped; it's just in my nature. When you grow up with two older bullies of sisters, whose favorite pastime had been to dress their poor brother up as a girl—full-blown makeup and heels—then you automatically develop a necessity for rudeness. There's no escaping it. And I prefer it this way anyway. That and sarcasm allow me to hide my emotions. I guess it runs in the family because Walker is all about being rude.

I didn't know how to get it across to him, but I guessed, soon enough, he'd understand. It'd take four legs, claws, and a muzzle to make him see the light. And then he'd come running with terror to me. I considered the idea of leaving him on his own, all alone in his permanent wolf state—for obviously he wouldn't have figured out how to transform back—to teach him a lesson. The idea was growing and so was my humor. Yep, I loved a good joke just as much as the next person.

You see, our's is a love/hate relationship. I hate him 'cause he's irritating; I love him 'cause I have to. Once upon a time, we'd been really close, but he'd hit puberty and thought he was every girl's gift. His time had been too monopolized for me, and we had grown apart. He rationalized it as he was two years older than me and far too mature. Oh how the tide has changed. Physically and mentally, I'm like 25, while he's still stuck at fifteen. And so, I treat him as such.

He's irresponsible and reckless, been that way since my uncle died. I see it as this: You either go one way or the other. For me, I'd been forced to grow up fast, probably too soon, but it'd been my responsibility to care for Billy and look out for my sisters—I'd had to step into the man-of-the-house role. Walker was quite the opposite. He'd become rebellious and simply stupid, completely self-absorbed. His approach to life was that the world belonged to him and everyone should bow down. I had, long ago, thought of the perfect description: egotistical.

It wasn't likely that this transformation would straighten him out, but I had my fingers crossed. A lifetime of him in my head was gonna be hell. I was still working out the kinks in my plan. I figured he couldn't be left alone, so I'd just dump him off on the res, let Sam put some character into him. It was the only way Bells and I could be alone. But this would only take place after the leech was killed. And that was about it to my so called plan. I'd never been any good at planning ahead; procrastination was more my kinda thing.

I supposed the only thing I could do was just sit and wait. Wait for Walker to get really mad, and then bam, the change would happen. In the meantime, I'd protect Bella and fend off the reeking bloodsucker. And most importantly—work on making her fall in love with me. It'd only be a short time now before she realized. And I'd be waiting with open arms.

*****

Bella:

The road flew past us. I had stopped trying to gaze out the window a long time ago; the speed made me dizzy, and it hurt my eyes straining to make out some form or shape. I leaned my head back against the supple leather headrest, forcing my heart to return to its normal beat.

There was a tangible electricity in the car on this night. It was unmistakable; it made my skin feel alive. It tingled and quivered involuntarily.

As calmly as possible, I glanced to my left. He was still there, his beautiful face focused on the road, his strong jaw clenched and tight. But why? He always appeared to be restraining himself. I wanted answers, but I didn't know where to begin. He seemed deep in thought, and I wondered what his exact thoughts were at this particular moment.

As if our minds were connected, he turned his face to me and smiled. If I hadn't been sitting, my knees would have buckled under the warmth of his gaze. The honey tint glistened and its depths were indefinite. I could get lost in that gaze easily.

"What are you thinking about?" He looked puzzled, but still amused, the tension in his jaw erased completely. I must have been imagining it, for he didn't seem the least bit anxious or angry. Nothing but relaxed and beautiful.

I swallowed, hoping my voice would cooperate. "You," I told him truthfully. I hadn't intended to blurt out the truth, but there was something about his eyes that coaxed me into doing things I might never have done. They were mesmerizing. I had a definite weakness.

His mouth twitched slightly and he held my gaze. I couldn't read anything in those eyes of his, despite my desperate attempts. My breath came out in irregular sputters. He probably either thought I was incredibly childish or I had severe asthma; both were not very attractive in this situation, with our heads inclined toward each other.

"Is that so?" His voice was so quiet, but yet so melodic.

I turned away, sensing my blush. It didn't seem fair that my body always betrayed me. There were so many different ways—blushing seemed the most innocent, but then there was the lack of coordination involving my untrustworthy limbs, not to mention my uncontrollable, involuntary breathing.

I was still unsuccessfully working on the latter, so I simply nodded. I could see from the corner of my eye that he seemed pleased that he'd flustered me yet again. It bothered me, though I didn't know why. I didn't enjoy him laughing at my expense, which occurred more than often.

He surprised me, however, by reaching over and gently resting his hand just above my knee. The electricity was palpable again. It seemed to be radiating from our touch. Coldness seeped through the thick material of my jeans, mingling with the current, and sending a wave of shivers down my spine. I looked up at him, but then his hand was back on the steering wheel as if nothing happened. The cold lingered for a moment and dissipated.

"So are you going to enlighten me on your thoughts, considering I was the primary focus?" The sing-song quality of his voice wreaked havoc to my heart.

"Negative."

"Please, Bella. I'm interested in hearing this. For me?" That same roguish smile caught me off guard, and I folded.

"You are such a mixture of ambiguity. You're annoying and frustrating because of your incessant taunting, but yet I find you appealing and charming, simultaneously. How do you do that?" I bit my bottom lip; once again, he had compelled me to reveal everything. I hated that.

"So now I'm appealing? Hmm, I rather like that description." He was grinning from ear to ear, much to my chagrin. I wished I had a stronger will, so I wouldn't disclose my inner thoughts whenever he so much as smiled at me. He was definitely reveling this way too much.

"Now I just find you obnoxious," I muttered. "Okay, fine. It's your turn. What were you thinking about me a second ago?" This should be interesting.

"Who said I was thinking of you just now?"—He chuckled at my annoyed response. "Sorry to disappoint, but my thoughts were actually consumed with other matters presently. I'll have to get back with you on that." He was taunting me again, and I didn't like it.

"Whatever," I said bitterly. For all I cared, this was the end of our conversation.

"Ah, Bella, you seem upset. Why is it that I bother you so much?" Again, he was far more amused than perplexed. He knew exactly what he was doing; feigning ignorance was not endearing at the moment.

"You're so confounding. Why don't you answer some of my questions, like where are we going for starters?"

"That's a secret. I told you that when I picked you up, don't you recall?"

"You never answer any of my questions. I recall that perfectly well. Why are you so secretive about yourself? Who are you? What's your past? Tell me something, anything . . . Just let me in." He was forever doing the questioning, but never on the receiving end. I was on the verge of pulling my hair out.

"It's not the right time for these answers, Bella. Besides, if my past is any indication of the future, then you don't want to be a part of it." He glanced over at the clock on the dashboard. "And sadly, our time is up. Don't worry, love. You'll know when it's the right time. I'll be coming for you. Stay on your toes."

Everything went black. I searched all around me, but he was gone. I opened my eyes, and I was back in the bedroom at the guest house. No speeding silver Volvo attempting to surpass the speed of light, no mysterious delusion intent on crushing the remnants of my sanity. I was all alone. Well, partially . . . I still had the voices—they were just concealed momentarily.

I'd only wanted to take a quick nap, but the hours had flown by. Soft gray light entered through the window, and I guessed it to be around dusk. Twilight—my favorite time of the day.

I gathered the sheet around me and considered my dream. How was it even possible that something that real was in fact just my imagination? I thought back to earlier on the beach, when I'd confided to Aunt Mae. This is obviously what she meant about repressed memories, but how did I make myself understand them? There was something so familiar about this beautiful illusion of mine. It bothered me that he knew me so well in my dreams, but yet I didn't have a hint as to who he was.

The only way to figure this out was to delve right into it. I sounded ridiculous considering this, but I would need his help in unraveling my secrets. And I would have to seek him out. The best way appeared to be by provoking him, since he had always shown up when I was in danger. That would have to be my goal, then—put myself in dangerous situations. But it seemed worth it if I could solve this mystery that I had unknowingly become.

I crawled out of bed and pulled on my jeans that were dangling from the chair. The sound of Jacob's laughter reached my ears, and I realized I wasn't totally alone. The bedroom door was half-open and he was within my line of sight, sitting in a chair and watching TV. He'd obviously moved the chair closer to the door to keep an eye on me while I slept, because I didn't recall it ever being there before.

I walked towards the door just as he turned his mischievous smile on me. In one long stride, he had pulled me in his arms, my cheek resting against his brawny chest. I breathed in his familiar scent and sudden remorse filled me. I remembered just how mean I had been to him the afternoon before the incident.

"Sleeping Beauty's finally awake, huh?" He gave me a lopsided smile, running one massive hand through the tangles in my hair.

"Jake, I just want to apologize for being the unpleasant fiend that I was to you yesterd—" He cut me off with an absent-minded wave of his hand.

"Nah, I've already forgotten that episode, Bells. No hard feelings. It's in the past, and what's in the past should be left alone and forgotten."

I stared at him for a moment. There was something to that last statement—a double meaning that he wasn't going to tell me about. I hated being the outsider of an inside joke, but he quickly changed the subject before I could question it.

"Mae brought over some dinner; I can heat it up if you're ready now."

"You're so domestic now," I replied sarcastically. "But I think I'll wait a little bit. I was going to hop in the shower. Do you see the state I'm in?" I pulled at the lumps in my hair as evidence.

"I only see you, Bella. Nothing else." He pulled me closer and I fought back a self-conscious laugh. The intense look in his eyes was making me nothing short of nervous. "You know the way I feel about you." He grinned.

"Thank you," I mumbled and scrambled out of his grasp. "I'll just be ten minutes."

I threw the door closed on his bewildered and amused face and sat down on the end of the bed to steady myself. I had never been caught in this dilemma before. I was in love with two different guys, one that wasn't entirely real—rather a figment of my imagination—and the other who had once been like family. I needed a psychiatrist badly.

On recovering wobbly legs, I raced into the bathroom and turned on the shower faucet. It was loud enough that he could hear, so he'd think I was credible. And he probably wouldn't guess that I was about to sneak out yet again, especially after what happened last night. But I'd made up my mind to seek out danger, and apparently danger preferred me over anyone else, so it shouldn't be that hard of a task.

With only a soft scrape of the window, I managed to evade discovery. And I was outside, the light breeze rustling the leaves and sending my knotted hair flying. It was still light enough that I distinguished the worn path in the trees and headed towards the barn. Anticipation filled me; I was eager to see him.