A/N: This chapter is one some of you may have been waiting for. I hope it meets expectations :) I don't own anything. Enjoy!
Give Me a Sign
Chapter Ten
Broken
I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart; I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain is there healing?
In your name, I find meaning
So I'm holding on
I'm barely holding on to you
- Broken – Lifehouse
Renesmee
I grumbled to myself as I sat at my desk on Friday, waiting for a phone call. Praying one never came. I'd gotten written up again; the third time since I was hired. Was it really my fault the stupid people on the other end of the phone kept reminding me of my dad?
Push the thought away. Don't think of it.
I sighed.
The last four weeks that I'd been on the phones had been a mixture of wonderful and horrible. Wonderful any and every time I got to see Jake and horrible when I was at work. The novelty that was me seemed to have died down a lot, but I'd still hear a few whispers after I'd have to run away from the phone call to keep from falling apart in the middle of the room.
I tried to keep my focus on Jacob every day that I was there. Jacob's voice, Jacob's arms, Jacob's… everything. I would gladly remember every part of him from his black hair to his huge feet. And sometimes, I would even smile through my pain.
Jacob was the rock in my very unstable life. Every time I was with him, I would talk and it felt so good to be able to focus on something other than my dad. He'd tell me about his life, and I'd tell him as much about mine as I could before I started feeling the crushing weight that told me I'd said too much. It never failed that once I started to feel that, Jacob would change the subject, and I wouldn't think about it anymore. Even if it seemed like he wanted to pry, he never did. He caught me every single time I started falling, and it was amazing.
My life was perfect.
Well, okay, it was far from perfect, but it was as perfect as my life could ever hope to get. Even if my supervisor didn't like me, I still had a job and a paycheck, and I could pay the bills and buy food easily. The taxes on the house still weighed over my head, but I was able to push that back and focus on more immediate needs. I even bought Jacob lunch once and he seemed happy about it. Not that he was ever unhappy when he bought me food, but it was still nice to do it for him for a change.
Every now and then, we'd do something with Leah. She was nice when I got to know her, and I loved hearing her and Jake talk back and forth. It was like watching two grown children. Leah seemed okay with me, too, which I was happy about. Sam kept his distance, but I wasn't sure if that was because he didn't like me or if it was just who he was. He never joined in the bickering between Leah and Jake, but he did step in between them once. It kind of surprised me. It was even more surprising to see Jacob back down. He told me later that day that Sam was very protective of Leah and didn't like it when his teasing got too close to home.
I nodded like I understood, but I really didn't.
I took three more phone calls before I was finally released to go home. I was excited and nervous, just biding my time until the next day when I could see Jake again. He had told me that we would be going to over to Leah's house for a while. It was a new development. When we did things with Leah and Sam, we went out somewhere. I didn't know what we'd be doing at Leah's, but I was eager to find out.
I woke up early on Saturday from another dream about my dad. I lay in bed for a long time to just think about him and cry. When my alarm went off at eleven, I wiped my eyes and forced myself to get up and shower.
Jacob would be there to pick me up at one, and I wanted to look nice for him again. He hadn't commented on my looks since the first time, but it still made me feel good to make myself up for him. I curled my hair after it was dry―just enough to add some bounce―and then applied a little bit of makeup.
I still never smiled at my reflection; even with all the makeup, I still looked horrible. The circles under my eyes were lighter and a lot less noticeable, but they were still there. My hair was still flat and stringy, even after all the mousse I put in it. So when I was done, I just went to the living room to find a book and wait it out until Jacob got there.
I looked up from my book when there was a knock at the door at twelve forty-five. I smiled to myself; I loved it when Jacob showed up early. It didn't happen often, and I didn't delude myself into thinking it was because he couldn't wait to see me, but I still loved it all the same. So I pushed myself up off the couch and all but danced to the door to swing it open.
My smile fell the instant I had the door open; it wasn't Jacob. A man in a gray suit with a tie and a goatee stood before me holding a clip board and a pen.
"Is Mr. Edward Masen here?" he asked in a professionally bored voice.
My heart rate spiked at the same time my chest crushed painfully. I took in a sharp breath and clutched the door.
All I could do was shake my head, even though I wanted to scream at this man that he was dead and how dare he even say that name?
He took a paper from the clipboard and handed it to me. "Would you give this to him please?"
I took the paper numbly and found myself nodding before I could even read what the paper said. He thanked me and turned around to walk briskly back to his car waiting in my driveway.
I stood there, staring at the place where his car had been, unable to move and unable to breathe. Edward Masen… how long had it been since I'd heard that name out loud?
My eyes closed, and I felt the choking sobs rising up in my chest. I swallowed thickly, and it hurt my throat.
Finally, I closed the door and moved back a few steps. I looked down at the paper the man had given me. I had two more months to pay the taxes before the house would be up for seizure.
I dropped the paper on the coffee table and stood there staring at it. Somehow, I knew that the months I'd been given should scare me. All I could feel was my heart being squeezed until it wanted to pop and my throat closing around sobs that were too shocked to even break through. I knew when they finally did, I'd fall hard, and I wouldn't come back up for a long time.
I stood there staring at the paper until another sound made me jump. The knock on the door was loud and obtrusive, and I wanted to hide to escape from it. But then I remembered Jacob.
Oh, God… Jacob.
I turned to the door, half unsure if I really wanted to answer it, and half wondering why the hell it wasn't open yet. My feet carried me numbly to the door, and my hand reached out to the doorknob. It felt strangely my dreams; my actions were already predetermined. I had no choice. And yet, somewhere deep inside me, I knew I didn't want to have a choice. I wanted to see Jacob. I wanted it so badly it added its own weight to my already burdened heart.
My throat closed tighter as the door opened, and I suddenly knew this had been a very bad idea. I'd have to run from him at any second to spare him of my breakdown.
"Hey, Nessie," he said happily. He was always happy. He hadn't gotten angry around me in a long time. His voice wasn't soothing like I thought it would be. It was, but it wasn't. I looked up and met his eyes. I realized when I did that the tears had already started. I wiped them away quickly, but of course he saw them.
"Are you okay?"
I tried to nod. I tried to tell him I was fine, but I couldn't. Something deep inside me reached out for Jacob, my rock. I didn't want to fall this time. He'd caught me every other time, couldn't he catch me now? I tried to say something to him, but my throat was so tight it was only a whimper. His hand reached out to my shoulder and everything inside me clutched at the contact like a life raft.
"Nessie?"
My chest and my throat were burning, the inevitable fall only getting closer. Please, Jacob, I wanted to say. Please catch me.
He moved me back and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. He stared at me for a few seconds before he suddenly pulled me into a hug.
"It's okay, Nessie." His voice was soothing, but it felt like a knife stabbing me. It wasn't okay. It would never be okay.
The first sob was hard and fast and hurt so badly it made me whimper again. Jacob rubbed my back and made a comforting shush sound that only ripped more at my heart. The second sob hurt worse; my throat unable to fit it through. Then I was falling.
I felt Jacob's arms constricting around me, holding me up, and his fingers in my hair. I felt my fingers clutching the front of his shirt as if just holding him would physically prevent this from happening. I felt his chest under my face as I pushed myself closer to him. I felt it all, but I felt nothing.
I couldn't breathe anymore. I felt my body gasping in air, but there wasn't any relief. I was ripped in half over and over again as the name echoed in my mind with memories and pain. I remembered the way he would laugh at some silly thing I'd said or done, or how he would get so mad when I did something stupid like sneak out of school only to end up at home with a rash.
I would give anything to hear him yell at me again.
Somewhere in my blurred conscious, I felt movement. Jacob was all around me and under me, and I clung to him tighter.
I didn't know how long I cried, but Jacob's arms never loosened. When I finally started coming back, I realized that he had moved to the couch, and I was on his lap. I didn't pull back or even move much at all, but I did take a few deep breaths. I was thankful that I could finally breathe again. Even after I'd calmed down a bit, Jacob's arms never faltered in their grip on me. He alternated between rubbing my back and petting my hair, still making soothing sounds. I sniffled and thought about wiping my face, but I knew it would be useless.
I cringed then, thinking about what I'd just done to Jacob's shirt. I didn't want to, but I forced myself to pull back and look at the shirt. I cringed again; it was soaked with tears and snot and probably even drool.
"Jake..." What else could I say?
He smiled a half-smile and wiped my cheek with his thumb.
"Feel better?" he asked softly.
I sniffled again and realized that I did feel better. So much better. My chest felt light, and I could breathe so clearly. My muscles were still tight and it hurt my neck to move, but I would take the muscle pain over the other pain any day. I nodded a little stiffly.
I picked at the soaked shirt. "I'm sorry—"
He immediately shook his head. "Don't worry about that; it's washable."
I nodded and laid my head back down on his shoulder. It felt too good to move now. He didn't seem to mind; his arms tightened around me again, and I felt a hand in my hair. We were silent for a few long moments before he brought his head down and kissed the top of mine.
"What happened?"
I drew in a deep, clear breath and let it out slowly. I knew I needed to tell him something. People don't cry like that for no reason. He'd avoided subjects that hurt me without knowing why they did and never once pried. He deserved to know. And I could tell him. Couldn't I?
Yes, I could.
I started on the day my life ended.
It was ten o'clock in the morning on a Thursday, and he was upset that I hadn't gone to school that day.
"Oh my God, you are such an ass!" I yelled through my door.
"Renesmee Anne Masen, you do not talk to me like that. I am your father. Come out here right now." He had that tone that warned me he would break down the door if he had to.
I rolled my eyes and got up off my bed. I stalked to the door and flung it open. I glared at him, and he glared right back.
"You know, I don't understand why you are making such a big deal about this. It's not like I'm not going to graduate," I said, trying to keep from yelling. I knew we wouldn't actually be fighting if I wasn't in such a pissy mood, but I couldn't help it. He was making a huge deal out of something that meant very little to me.
"That isn't the point, and you know it. You might have enough credits to graduate, but you won't be able to walk out in front of all of your friends and get your diploma." He crossed his arms in front of him and looked at me with his green eyes on fire.
"What friends, Dad? I don't have any fucking friends." I walked past him to go into the kitchen.
"Watch your language, Renesmee," he threatened. Ooh, scary. "If you would go to school, you might make some."
"Yeah, dad. I've gone to school in the past, remember? I'd done everything I needed to do and everyone just forgot about me when they found out I couldn't do things with them like normal kids. I don't even fucking exist to them anymore!" Tears welled in my eyes and I glared at him again. He couldn't say anything because he'd always been the popular type. He'd had friends before he met my mother; he'd had people who cared about him. But what about me? I had my dad. That was it.
"Well, did you ever try?"
I just rolled my eyes. He knew what my condition did to people. He'd told me several times how my mom had struggled to deal with it. All those friends he'd had stopped talking to him when he got involved with her. I would have thought that would have given him a clue that it wasn't something most people were willing to overlook.
"What do I have to do to get you to go to school?" he demanded.
"You can't do anything, dad. I'm going to get my diploma when the school year ends. What the hell is the point of suffering through all that?"
"How about this? If you don't go to school, I will take your away college fund."
I gasped. He couldn't do that. It was college. He wanted me to go to college, right? As I stared at him, I knew he was serious. And I was suddenly furious.
"Fuck you," I spat. I stomped out the door before he could stop me. I walked down to the library where I liked to go to think.
A few hours later, I went back home. I was a little calmer, and I knew I had to apologize for the things I'd said to him. We were both being irrational, but I knew we could work out some kind of agreement. I could go to a few classes a day if he would let me get away with not going to all of them.
When I got home, the house was empty. I called out to him, but he didn't answer. I found a note from him on the counter.
Nessie -
I'm sorry for what I said. I'd still like you to go to school, but we'll talk about that later. I'm going for a drive. Be back soon. Love you.
- Dad
I didn't start worrying until four o'clock. When he took a drive, he was like me when I went to the library. He'd go somewhere to sit and think for a few hours and then come back. I told myself everything was fine and I was just overreacting. I called his phone to reassure myself that he was okay, but it went straight to voicemail. I must have really hurt him.
At four thirty, I started calling his cell phone every ten minutes.
At five o'clock, the phone finally rang, and I answered after the first ring, assuming was him.
"Dad," I answered, relieved.
"Hello, my name is Doctor Gary Nicks. Is this Mrs. Masen?" He sounded a little winded
"Um, no… Miss Masen. Edward is my dad," I answered, confused.
"Is Mrs. Masen available?"
What the hell? "No, she died a long time ago. What's going on?"
The man sighed. "There has been an accident, and a man was brought in. He had no identification, but the car is registered to Edward Masen and this number is listed as 'home' in the cell phone. Can you come to St. Joseph's Hospital right away?"
Doctor… Hospital… I felt sick to my stomach. "What happened to my dad?" I asked in a strangely calm voice. I took a deep breath to try to calm my nausea.
There was a pause. "He's been in a car accident. Can you come right away?"
It took a moment for me to understand what he was saying. When it hit, I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom. It had to be a joke. Some really sick, twisted joke. I promised I would never, ever talk to my dad like that again. Just give me a chance to make it right…
I didn't bother to pick up the phone as I threw a jacket on and ran out the door. No car meant I had to walk. My condition was always worse when I was upset. In the hour it took me to get to the hospital, my hands and face felt like I'd been in the sun for two. I itched all over with red patches already starting to show on whatever skin wasn't covered. I told the lady at the front desk that I'd gotten a call from Dr. Nicks. It took her a minute to find it, but she paged Dr. Nicks and told me to have a seat.
Fuck sitting. I paced. My skin was crawling, and I felt sick to my stomach. I tried to tell myself it wasn't serious―that he was going to be just fine. But then my logical side piped in and reminded me that the hospital probably wouldn't call me if he was able to walk away.
A few minutes later, an older man with white hair came out into the waiting room with a middle-aged blonde woman.
"Ms. Masen?" he asked.
I turned to him and my heart sped up so much it hurt. I nodded.
"I'm Dr. Nicks and this is Dr. Peers. Please come with us." I followed without a word.
"You don't have to linger, we just need to confirm that you know him. He didn't have any identification other than the phone and car registration, but those are easily stolen."
I nodded and let myself hope that someone had stolen my dad's phone and car and gotten into an accident with them. There was only one problem with that―I still didn't know where my dad was.
We walked into a room with six tables set up, two of them empty. I stopped in my tracks. I had assumed that he would be in a hospital room; maybe unconscious, but alive. If this person was in here… My stomach churned again. My dad was not in this room. I chanted it to myself. He wasn't here. He was at home at that moment, wondering where I was and cursing the man that stole his phone. I forced my feet forward and followed the doctors.
Dr. Nicks stopped at one of the tables and turned to me. "I'll just pull the sheet down and you can nod or shake your head to confirm or deny, okay?"
I nodded and stared down at the white form on the table. It wasn't my dad. It wasn't my dad.
The sheet was pulled away from the man's face and I stared for a few seconds before I turned away. I hunched over and threw up again on the floor.
It wasn't my dad… fuck… it wasn't my dad… If I thought it enough times, it might make it true.
"Ms. Masen?"
I heaved again. Dr. Peers patted my back gently while standing far enough away that she wouldn't be hit with spatter.
After a few minutes, I stood back up and looked at the man on the table again. The bronze hair, green eyes, high cheek bones, and square jaw line were all unmistakable. I couldn't say the words that would tell them who he was, so I just nodded my head and wiped my mouth as Dr. Peers patted my back again.
Before the sheet was drawn back up, I reached out a hand to touch him. His skin was clammy, and it made me shiver. "Daddy," I whispered. "I'm sorry."
Dr. Nicks pulled the sheet back up, and they both guided me back out of the room. Before I could leave, I had to fill out some form that told them who he was. They mentioned something about running dental scans for further identification.
"Do you need a ride home?" Dr. Peers asked over an hour later. In a haze, I nodded. She called a taxi for me and paid the fare, and soon I was on my way back home.
I walked into the house and looked around. Nothing looked right. It was like everything was changed around just barely enough to notice that something was off, but not enough to put my finger on it. I went numbly to my room, climbed onto my bed and lay down, closing my eyes. This was all a nightmare, I told myself. When I woke up in the morning, everything would be back to normal. I would be able to apologize for real and he would hug me. He'd look at me with that disapproving yet loving look that he was so famous for when I got in trouble. He'd sing me to sleep and I wouldn't have this nightmare again.
A/N: Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear what you think.
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