Chapter 12: Depression

Jacob's point of view

"Clocks ticked, but time did not pass. The sun rose and the sun set, but the shadows remained. When once there was sound, now there was silence. What once was whole, now was shattered." A soft female voice said in a sad tone.

I could hear a lot of scrambling as they searched for the remote. I knew they did it for me, but the chaos made me focus on the soon to be shut off TV-screen: A herd of people in black clothes on a hill staring at caskets being buried in the ground. A funeral.

And the screen went black.

A sigh of relief echoed in the quiet room now that they had shut off the TV.

"What was it?" I heard a voice ask, probably Embry.

"A movie…" – it was Sam's voice - "We are Marshalls"

The voices were hard to focus on, like trying to see through a dirty window. I didn't even care what they said, what anybody said and especially not what the stupid TV said. I was drained of energy; I just sat in my couch, my head resting in my hands.

People had been in and out all day trying to cheer me up. I didn't need to be cheered up; I needed somebody to hand me a gun so I could shoot myself. Death sounded so lovely and peaceful. But the lack of energy made it impossible for me to ask for the gun. That's what I'd been doing all day; sitting motionless, saving up energy to ask one question. I was afraid they might misinterpret my request. They might think I hadn't thought it through. That was false.

I had thought it through: When I died every emotion, including sadness and regret, would be fictional. And that sounded so good.

Now was the time. I focused all of my energy on opening my mouth, and succeeded. Except then my voice was gone and I closed it again.

"Did he say something?" I heard Embry ask as if I was some strange creature. He could just as well have said 'it' instead of 'he'. He was sitting right next to me, just staring.

"I don't know," Quil answered. They'd been here for what seemed like days, just trying to make me move. "Jake." Quil looked at me, I could feel it. I didn't react. "She has been at the Cullen's for 1 hour now. She suggested you could come, and you said no. I've been away from Claire for 3 hours, and I didn't say no to anything"

"Quil," Sam interrupted.

"Look. All I'm saying is that I can't stay here forever"

The silence was one of agreement.

"I never asked you to stay or even come… just go" I said and was surprised that I could form a sentence, but it wasn't a happy surprise. It just meant I'd taken a step closer to life and away from death.

They left even though I could hear them hesitating by the door. But all of them had better things to do than look after me.

They were right, there was nothing to look after here, because the only thing I was capable of doing was thinking of two faces, shifting in focus.

The first one was my father's. The way he'd looked in the hospital bed, the way that had made me feel like the worst son on the face of the planet.

And then the image Nessie had formed in my head last night: If Edward died how she would look. That haunting image of her tortured expression. That was what made me suicidal because I couldn't make it go away. It kept appearing and then it was replaced by the one of my dead father and then back to Nessie again…

and again…

and again…

I have no idea how much time passed before there was a small knock on the door. I managed to make some kind of sound, but that was it. I didn't move, didn't even try to guess who it was. I didn't care.

"Jake?" It was Renesmee's voice, and I moaned in frustration. She was the only person who could bring me back to life, but I didn't want to go back. "I'm so sorry it took so long, and that Sam, Quil and Embry just left." Why did she always apologize? I was the one making everything wrong. Not her. The door clicked behind her as she closed it.

"The good thing is I don't have to leave you anymore," she said and sat down beside me on the couch. I didn't look at her; I kept sitting in the same position: Elbows on my knees, forehead in hands.

I couldn't pretend to be completely dead when she was here. "Good," was all I could say. It even sounded slightly sarcastic because I was unable to put the real emotion in my voice.

"Jake," her voice was barely whisper. She brushed her soft hand through my hair and down my cheek. One by one she released my fingers from my forehead and pushed my head up so my head was facing towards forward. I kept my gaze elsewhere, as she placed her hands on each of my cheeks and turned my head towards her.

She gently pressed her lips against mine – causing my whole mind and strength to buckle of pleasure - and I could no longer fight the urge to look into her eyes. She was starring right back, her brown eyes curious, waiting for a reaction.

Then it hit me, like I'd feared it would. The image of her face tortured with pain. Her eyes soaked with tears and her lips trembling. Her whole body shaking of sadness and sobs escaping from her chest.

I closed my eyes quickly, and it helped a little, but the image was still printed on the back of my eyelids.

She once again tried to open my eyes by pressing her lips to mine, but this time I refused. "Please don't," I said and turned my head towards the floor. I pressed my hands against my eyes, like you did when you were tired, and then took my old position.

"I'm sorry, I just thought…" she trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

"Just thought what?" I asked after a long pause, still starring intensely at the floor, doing everything to make the image go away.

"It's just, when we kissed for the first time, it seemed like you liked it… but I guess I was wrong," there was a sad edge to her voice.

The statement was a surprise: Both because of the fact that we hadn't talked about it, because we both knew it could ruin everything. But I was surprised mostly because she thought I didn't like kissing her. How could she think that? From her point of view though, I did reject her both in the hospital and then now. How was she supposed to know, I was an emotional mess?

"I love kissing you" I said with a sigh and a tint of embarrassment.

"What is it then? You won't even look at me," she stated and started playing with her own fingers. I found that I could look at her fingers with no trouble.

"It's because, I can't look at you without seeing the image of you, if Edward died," The truth. It's always different from what you expected. I knew she was surprised, but not in a good way. Not at all.

"Is that why you haven't looked at me since I mentioned it?" she asked in a high surprise-voice after spending sometime absorbing the news. I could hear how I'd made her sad once again. Sigh.

"Pretty much…" I said and closed the subject for everyone's benefit.

The silence that followed was unbearable. The only sound was the sound of our breathings which were deep and resignedly. It was like someone had stolen the soundtrack to life. Movies were weird with the sound off… and so was life. I was witnessing it right now.

The sharp sound of a phone ringing interrupted the silence and I heard Nessie sigh as she found the phone in her pocket.

"Hi Mom." pause. "Yeah." small pause. "No… more depressed than angry." long pause. "I can try…" small pause. "I will do my best, bye." End of conversation.

"What did she want?" I asked with a tired voice, because I could easily guess it had something to do with me. And quite possibly it wasn't: Give Jake a gun he can shoot himself with. No, it was more something like: Try to cheer Jake up, talk about something else, bake him a cake, throw him a surprise party, and buy him a pony. Ugh! I knew that was exaggerating a bit, but who cared if I exaggerated in my mind? I didn't.

"Bella wanted to know how it was going," she answered in a light tone like that was the answer I wanted.

"And how is it going?" I asked in a gruff voice and lowered my hands from my forehead to look at my hands, that I realized were sweating.

"Better than worst case scenario, worse than I'd hoped for…" the misery was horrible, and I wanted to look at her, but I knew I couldn't. I'd caused this situation. She did her best to make my life better, and then I just made everything worse. I was such an idiot!

I had no answer, but as the time dragged out into another silence, I spoke anyway: "Can't you just talk… about anything"

This was the reason why I loved her: She didn't question me, just started talking with enthusiasm that could melt any heart. "I've been thinking about writing a song for the funeral, because Edward will be playing the music anyway, and I really want to do something too."

The mentioning of the funeral hit me like a tornado, but I tried to focus on her voice, more than the actual words "I could say something, but I'm afraid it will seem fake or vague. I don't even know who else will be saying something, so it's hard to decide," she continued and pulled her legs up, swung her arms around them and laid her chin on her knees. I wasn't looking at her, but I still knew how she moved. That was how well I knew her. "Do you need any help on your speech?"

My speech. My non existing speech. The speech that I hadn't thought about before this second. Yeah, I could use some help on that. "I could use some help, yes… but shouldn't stuff like that be sort of spontaneous?" I knew that was a stupid question, because how would I ever be able to remember everything I wanted to say spontaneously? I didn't even know what I wanted to say.

"I don't know… I found this poem and I don't know… I just really think it fits." She found something in the pocket of her grey shirt, and unfolded it with a quick movement. Then she continued: "It's called Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden. I removed something, but it still sounds good." I could feel her eyes on me, waiting for me to give her some kind of motion to begin. I nodded.

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aero planes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message 'He is Dead',
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."

As she finished my eyes were intensely fixed on hers and a tear ran down my cheek. This was how I felt. Not quite how I felt, but exactly how I felt. Only Renesmee Carlie Cullen could find a poem that described my exact feelings. Amazing.

Unable to control myself, and thrilled with the fact that I could look at her again, I threw myself at her.

I'd honestly expected her to reject me, as some kind of payback for my unforgiveable behavior, but that didn't happen. My lips found hers as if by magnetism. My chest had bumped into her knees because I'd been so eager, but I ignored the small pain. She moved her legs and there was nothing between us now. Only air. Hot, humid tension filled air.

I could feel her hand moving up and down my arm, while the other was placed on my bare chest. My hands brushed the hair away from her eyes with a swift move, and then I pulled away carefully, so she wouldn't feel rejected.

"Thank you," she whispered and the most beautiful smile spread across her face.

I pressed my lips against her smile and her smile melted away but her eyes were still glowing. She closed her eyes and so did I because of the way she was stroking her fingers up and down my chest and abdominal.

We were both inexperienced in this area. I'd kissed Bella twice, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of Renesmee's lips against mine: Soft, almost as warm as mine and they had a luxurious silky texture.

I found myself leaning more and more over her, almost forcing her to lie down on the couch. And she did so, slowly and elegantly. Nonchalant, as they said in France. Or did they? I'd never been good at French. Why was I thinking of French words when Nessie's lips were connected to mine?

The hand supporting my weight was placed right next to her head. And the other was making its way from her hip all the way to the tip of her fingers, where I interlaced my fingers with hers. I pulled away and looked down on the wonder beneath me.

Her auburn hair was spread out from her hair like a halo, and her cheeks were flushed with emotions.

"Thank you" I said and closed my eyes as I felt the wave of depression decreasing in to a small insignificant piece in my mind. I was with her. My soul mate was right in front of me, and she may still have doubts about being a couple, but she kissed me back. She loved me. And I could think of no other thing that would make me happier.

Review ;) Thanks ^^ Even if you write or talk to me at some other place, please review here too, because the more reviews the more people will read this :D So, review… Down below ;)

Depression ): That was such a hard chapter to write because I got all depressed, so if any of you got a little sad during this chapter… I'm sorry ._.

Hope you liked the quote at the start, because I really think it's amazing… and the same with the poem Renesmee read :')

Next chapter will not be named after a stage of grief, because it will take some time to get from depression to… *drum roll* acceptance ^^

So yeah, we're heading towards acceptance and the next chapter will be the funeral. Or at least part of it C:

Love to all of you … especially you ;)

-The Author