I walked through the streets of Forks until I reached the police station, somebody was going to have to break the tragic news to Charlie. Along the way, I rehearsed my excuse again and again, making sure that I would get it right:
It wasn't exactly like I could stroll up and say, "Look Charlie, I'm really sorry, but when I saw your daughter crying over her vampire ex-boyfriend and turned into a wolf- wait, did I forget to say that I'm a werewolf? Right, well anyway, I lost control, attacked her, and now she's on the verge of death and it's my fault. I guess I'll see you later!"
After about four minutes of cowardly waiting outside, I walked into the police station and almost immediately tripped into Charlie, who was carrying a box of take-away coffees and donuts.
My face must have conveyed at least a tiny bit of what I was feeling inside, because upon seeing my expression, Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, spilling coffee and donuts all over the front of his shirt and the recently mopped floor.
"It's Bella, isn't it?" he whispered. My throat felt tight, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to answer properly, so I merely nodded my head. Not needing any explanations, Charlie balled his fists and growled at me to get in the cruiser.
I slammed the door behind me, and turned to face Charlie. "Bella and I, we were walking in the woods and this bear- I think we got between her and her cub, but she attacked Bella and I... I don't know if she's going to make it..." I choked out.
My voice sounded thick and strained, and it was only then that I realised that I was crying. Before I could stop myself, the tears turned into full-fledged sobs, and I was struggling to breathe in between the waves of despair and grief I was feeling.
Charlie looked like he was about to follow suit, but he put on a brave face and aside from my choking sobs, we sat in silence all the way to the hospital.
I didn't remember how I got there, but suddenly we were in the ward where Bella lay, lifeless and broken on a hospital bed with tubes feeding into her nose and arms. The entire left side of her body, especially her neck was covered in long deep gashes, the raking cuts made by my claws.
A middle aged nurse came in holding a clipboard with a sympathetic look on her face. I knew what she was going to say before she said it. The words she said ended up sounding fuzzy and distant, but I could read her lips, which seemed to be taking up all of my vision.
"I'm so sorry dear, but she's not going to make it..."
Then everything swirled around me and turned black.