Like I said, I'm going for about 20 chapters by the end of this summer. That's about 1 per week, and I think I can do it!
I'm gonna try!
Chapter 10! Double didgets! !
The next few hours seemed to pass in a blur. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware of the things going on around me, and that I was in shock. It just really hadn't sunken in yet. Edward. Pete. Hospital. Cullens. Gone. The words jumbled around meaninglessly in my mind. Like they where all important pieces to some big puzzle, and to get the rest of the pieces I had to get those in the right order. It was just, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to get the right combination.
My dad showed up, after a while. I guess someone had finally gotten a hold of him. He seemed pretty shaken up. He kept going on and on about how this was unacceptable behavior from Pete, and that we where going to put a stop to it right now. I guess he didn't really ramble on like that to comfort me at all, just him mostly. After all, I laid there starring at him the entire time and didn't say one word, yet on he babbled.
He might have tried to get a response out of me, and he might not have. With random colors and pictures of Edward's face swirling around in my head, I was too out of it to notice anything.
Time passed in strange sluggish movements and awkward jerks without Edward. This I found soon enough. Probably because it meant nothing without him, as everything else in this damn world. Seconds to minutes. Minutes to hours. Hours to days. Days to weeks. Was there a difference? If there was, did it even matter? I wasn't sure, but I didn't think so.
I killed time by thinking about how I would approach Edward when I saw him again. Maybe I could hide out in his room one day while he was away at school . . . No, that would take to long. I would never be able to wait to see him like that, not when I was so close. Maybe I could discuss it with Esme, and I could walk in one night during dinner . . . No, I wanted it to be more private. Maybe I could have him meet me somewhere . . . Yeah, somewhere secluded, where we could talk alone. That sounds good.
After that was over, I passed time by counting down days until I could get out of here. They said I would be in here approximately one month. That was okay, considering that for all my other asthma attacks I had been let out early. However, I had never had my wrists slit during a stay at the hospital, either . . . Oh well, I'll just have to wait and see what happens . . .
My dreams where always a sweet escape, though. In my dreamland, it was a world where money and beauty and figures didn't matter. It was a place where Edward and I where equals. Where we could be together, and look like that's where we actually belonged. And be together we did. In my dreams, Edward and I where inseparable, probably to make up for how very much I missed him during the day.
The best part? In my dreamland, with my dream Edward, I didn't have to sleep. That meant I could spend every waking moment with Edward and my eyes wouldn't get blurry or my attention wouldn't start to drift to thoughts of sleep. And when I say 'spend every waking moment with Edward' I mean exactly that. No parents to tell us we where too young, no psycho ex-boyfriends to stalk us while we where trying to get some alone time, no hurtful words that had the potential to ruin everything. . . . I almost started bawling every time I had to wake up.
In my dreams, every night was a new scenario to experience. A new adventure. One night, we might be nearly-thirty New Yorkers who bonded over horror stories from 9/11. Another, we might be 23-year-old college students who found forbidden love in upstate California. The possibilities where endless. Haiti rescue workers who had an undeniable attraction. A suburban family expecting their second child. The no-nonsense perfectionist who ran off in the middle of the night with the bad-boy biker with a reputation for trouble making. Hell, we did it all.
We lived everywhere and did everything. New York. Business. California. Yoga teachers. Florida. Surfing professionals. LA. Playboy bunny and the male heir to the Playboy Mansion. Montana. Children of two feuding ranches who fall in love.
There was one situation that I didn't experience, and I was glad not to. Probably because it would be too painful. What would happen if he didn't forgive me. I didn't need any dream to show me that story. He would go on with his happy life, start a family, and forget me. And I would be left there to be alone and turn bitter, with my impossibly clear hindsight. That was one dream I didn't mind missing out on.
But that was something I couldn't help but explore while I was awake. What would I do if he didn't forgive me? How would I approach him? What if he didn't give me a chance to explain? What if he was disgusted with me? What if he didn't understand? What if he had already moved on . . . ? That question was the hardest to ask myself. What would I do if I showed up, all ready to pronounce my undying love for him, and found him with a new girlfriend hanging off his arm? I honestly had no idea . . . I just hoped I could refrain from doing something to her that would put me on the FBI's Top 10 Most Wanted list. No promises, though.
I suppose I would be happy for him, and tell him that if he ever changed his mind, I would be waiting. This was the lie I tried to feed myself. In my heart, I knew I would try to do some thing to hurt him. Not physically, but in the same way he hurt me by moving on so fast. Maybe not even to get him back, but just to show him how it feels. How deep the pain sears when you haven't really been cut . . .
I couldn't do this, I was immersing myself too deeply in what could be the death of me. I had to get away, just for a few minutes . . .
I grabbed my MP3 off of the hospital's bedside table and turned it on. I scrolled down my list of songs and put on 'Brick by Boring Brick' by Paramore.
"She lives in a fairy tale somewhere too far for us to find. Forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she's left behind.
It's all about the exposure, the lens I told her. The angles were all wrong, now she's ripping wings off of butterflies.
Keep your feet on the ground. When you're heads in the clouds. Well, go get you're shovel, and we'll dig a deep hole. To bury the castle, bury the castle.
Well, go get you're shovel, and we'll dig a deep hole. To bury the castle, bury the castle.
Ba da ba ba da ba ba da." was the next thing I heard. It may not exactly be the kind of song to get my mind off things right now, but I couldn't help it. I was in love with her voice.
I listened to the song all the way through. 'Misery Business' by Paramore tried to start playing, but I pressed the rewind button and put it back on 'Brick by Boring Brick.' I repeated the action a few more times before I finally just gave up and put it on 'repeat.'
The lyrics, "So one day he found her crying, coiled up on the dirty ground. Her prince finally came to save her, the rest you can figure out. But it was a trick, and the clock struck twelve. Well, make sure to build your house brick by boring brick, or the wolf's gonna blow it down." was the last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep. . . .
So, I was wrong. Not about anything to do with Edward, I haven't gotten that far yet. But about how long I was going to be staying here.
It's exactly one month ago today that I checked in to this hospital, and I'm still here. Yay.
I normally wouldn't mind spending a little extra time in a hospital. Honestly, I spend so much time in here already, what's a few more days? The thing was, I couldn't help thinking about what could be happening right now, completely preventable, while I lay here helpless.
Right this second, was Edward being asked out on a date? This second, where they sharing their first kiss? This second, was she telling him she liked him? This one, was he telling her the same? Could my Edward be being stolen right as I ask myself this? God, this was maddening! How did people do this for months at a time? Years? It must take someone a lot stronger than me, or not as in love. Either way, I couldn't do it.
I've been listening to 'Brick by Boring Brick' a lot. Maybe it's because, now that I've been without seeing Edward for a month, I feel like I'm losing him. Like since I'm starting to forget the little things about him–his uncontrollable bronze hair, the clear emeraldness of his eyes, how exactly he smelled . . .–I'm having a hard time convincing myself he was real. After all, who's to say he was really here? He was a billionaire, for crying out loud! What would he ever have wanted with me?
No, I had to quit telling myself that. Of course he was here. If he wasn't, could I feel the pain of separation I feel now? But what if I only feel that way because of the fact that I made him up in my head, of course he was perfect? But, if he was only in my head, I never would have let him leave, would I? Is it possible for a person to get nauseous from thinking in circles? I think I just did.
I just had to calm down and think about this rationally. Easier said than done. Maybe not, after all, there really was nothing I could do but wait.
For the 1, 989, 653rd time, I picked up my MP4 player and put on 'Brick by Boring Brick' by Paramore.
Oh. My. God. Finally! I was free!
I got out of the hospital exactly five hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds ago. I swear I've never been so relieved in my entire life!
In that time, I've: arranged a flight, threw everything casual in my closet and a few hundred bucks in a duffel bag, hitched a taxi to the airport, and completely defied the doctors orders for 'taking it easy.' Is that man crazy! I've got no time for 'taking it easy,' I've got to go get my man! My dad would disagree, but, really, what does he know?
In fact, my dad is currently furious. For many different reasons. One: I've kept Edward a secret from him. Two: I've just recovered from a near death experience, gotten my wrists slit, and have six stitches in each wrist, and I'm flying cross country in search of a boy I met a matter of weeks ago. Three: I kept Edward a secret from him. I know one and three are the same, but I think that's mainly what he's mad about.
As the last call for boarding my flight is announced, I'm running through the airport as if it was the last flight there's ever going to be going out of Sea-TAC Airport. I must have been a pretty funny sight. My wrists wrapped in the stretchy gauze I had artfully put on during the bumpy taxi ride here, my hair flying wildly behind me, my duffel bad slung across my body, by breathing panting. I was dressed in the plain, old jeans, black undershirt, and red button-up I had thrown on as soon as the nurse had spoken the sacred words, "Miss Swan, you can go home now." I had the sleeves to the button-up rolled up to my elbows and the buttons all undone. As for shoes, my dirty, black, high-top converse was all I had thrown on. Like I said, a pretty funny sight.
I made my flight in record time, with mere seconds to spare before the plane began to elevate up. As soon as the flight attendant said it was okay to bring out and use all electronics, I pulled out my cell phone and texted Edward's brothers, Emmett and Jasper. When Charlie had refused to help me in any way with this 'idiotic mistake,' they had been the only ones with enough money and resources to turn to. They had been very helpful. They told me exactly where I could find Edward, arranged my flight, and gave me the cash that was sitting in the front pocket of my duffel bag right now. Of course, it had helped that I had guilt tripped them a little bit with the asthma attack thing. . . Esme and Carlisle had come home from eating out for breakfast while I was there. I thought they would be mad, considering all the things I had told their son. I couldn't have been any more off. They completely understood, assuring me that they thought it was doing the complete right thing, and where glad Emmett and Jasper where helping me. They even laughed at finding out I had guilt tripped their other two sons! Well, Carlisle laughed, Esme just glared at them and said, "They better, all things they've put you through. Smoking! In my house . . ." Now I understand what Edward was talking about when he said she could be scary.
I quickly typed out, On the plane, I made it! Got a lot of hours ahead of me before I see New York. 3 Bella, and sent it. A few minutes later, Great! Good luck Em &J, popped up on the screen.
Nothing to do but wait now, I decided. I settled in to my chair and prepared myself for a long wait ahead of me.
Many hours later . . .
As soon as the doors opened I raced out into the airport, ignoring the cries of shock and irritation behind me.
Okay, so they said I could find Edward at– At that moment, my phone began buzzing. Got you a hotel Em&J with a address below it popped up on the screen. A small part of my mind registered that that was a very kind gesture, but the bigger part didn't realize anything except the fact that I was now closer to Edward that I've been in what seemed like forever.
I flung open the door to a taxi just as it was stopping. I threw myself and my duffel bag in and slammed the door. I mechanically read off the address to the driver, and he sped away from the airport.
As we pulled up to the curb, I launched myself out of the taxi with a "Wait there!" thrown over my shoulder. Within minutes, I was checked in, my bag thrown in my room, and eighty bucks in twenties was stuffed in my back pocket. I raced back out, and into the waiting taxi.
"That was fast." grumbled the driver, probably mad the meter didn't run as fast as he thought it would be.
"I'm in a hurry." My tone silenced all comments.
"Right, where to, again?"
"New York City Academy For Boys." And we where speeding off again.
When we arrived, the driver called "Sixty-nine." over the seat, and I just threw the wad of cash over to him. I didn't have time for change right now.
I wove through the boys, all dressed in the same uniform, as they filled out and headed to their next class. I stopped one to ask which period he was going to next, he said third. I had studied my copy of Edward's class schedule religiously on the plane ride over here, I should know that. Ummmm . . . . third period is . . World History, in building four! I asked another boy where building four is, and he pointed it out, to the direct left of where I was headed. I wove in-between boys some more, looking for that one familiar face in a sea of strangers.
When I spotted him, I didn't jump for joy, like I thought I would. I didn't run up to him and hug him so tightly he couldn't breathe, like I thought I would. I didn't even go up to him and tell him I loved him, like I thought I would. No, the sight before me didn't make me want to do any of that.
What I saw when I looked at Edward Cullen stopped me cold.
How's that for longer? I did my best! From now on, most of the chapters will be about this length, I hope.
I spent about three hours from 10:30 -1:30 getting this chapter to a place where I thought it could end, so please be nice!
This wasn't my original plan for this chapter, but I think it turned out pretty well. . . . .
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