Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight :)

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart,

and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.

Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them.

And the point is to live everything.

Live the questions now.

Perhaps then, someday far in the future,

you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet -

Reeds In The Wind

I didn't see any of the Cullens for days.

It felt strange. Unreal. In the evenings when I got home from work, Alice wasn't waiting for me at my apartment with a cup of freshly brewed tea. The rooms felt empty without her; I didn't even realize how accustomed I had become to her presence.

Jasper no longer walked by the bookstore's display window to give me a wink like he sometimes did. Many times I caught myself looking outside and almost expected to see him across the street, sitting in front of the cafe he'd seemed to grow a liking to. "It's never too crowded," he'd once said. "And the waitress never asks if there's something wrong with the coffee even though I always leave it untouched."

Now the tables outside the cafe were unoccupied. It was no wonder since it was winter, but for some reason the place looked almost deserted. Abandoned.

It almost described how I felt every night when the last customers left; when I realized that Carlisle wouldn't arrive after the closing time and offer to accompany me home. Almost, but not quite. The feeling was something between loneliness and misery, a strange yearning that awoke within me everytime the door slipped closed, shutting everyone else outside and trapping me in like a prisoner. Caging me up like a bird.

I later realized that I wasn't feeling like someone who had been abadoned. I felt like it was me who had done the abandoning. And I hadn't been imprisoned by someone else – on the opposite. I had flown into the cage myself, securely locking myself in. I had made my prison, built up the walls myself.

The feeling made their absence seem even more apparent. More real. More painful.

Sometimes if I focused hard enough, concentrated on the present moment, I could almost imagine they had never even been there.

Almost.

But of course they were there, somewhere. Watching me from the shadows, making sure I was safe. I just couldn't see them. But I could sense their presence. Sometimes I found myself stopping what I was doing without any sound reason and walking to the window. And for an indefinable amount of time, my thoughts were on something else besides work and customers and books. My attention was diverted by something I could not explain. It was almost as if I heard someone calling my name without a sound. I didn't know if it was my imagination or not, but there was almost something soothing about the feeling.

I never wondered about their absence. I couldn't blame them for it, either. It had probably been Carlisle's idea to leave me alone for a while so I could gather my thoughts. It was no wonder after the way I'd behaved at their house and later on the way home.

I wasn't ashamed of the quiet breakdown I'd had in the car, or tears he'd probably seen. But I did regret my lack of words. That I hadn't said anything to him. That I'd just gotten out of the car and walked away from him the way I had. Leaving him in the hopeless silence I had created.

It was a rude thing to do to someone who had just offered to save your life. And it wasn't just rude. It was cowardly.

That's exactly what I was – a coward. A fearful child hiding away from the world. Still not knowing what to think, what to say. What to feel. Which path to choose. How to recover from something so sudden, something so unexpected. Something like this.

Or was the situation unexpected after all? Should I have seen this coming? Had my reaction to Carlisle's proposition been unreasonably strong?

But I was allowed feel a little unsettled by the situation, was I? How could I not?

"Your life is worth as much as anyone's."

The voice echoing in my mind was firm but soft. Decisive but compassionate. I drew in a loud breath. Maybe to drown the voice, to push the memory away to take it out once I was ready to deal with it.

But the voice was strong, even as a whisper. It refused to leave me be.

"It doesn't have to be that way. There is an option. You are free to consider it if you wish."

Maybe it was a good thing that I hadn't seen any of them yet – that hadn't seen him. I didn't want them to know how insecure I still was – how hesitant. Me, who was always all about living in the moment and accepting everything life threw at my way. I felt like all those opinions, all those views and principles I usually embraced had been turned upside down within seconds.

Or then it was me who had turned upside down, unable to keep my balance after the world had taken a sudden lurch.

For days, I buried myself in work, leaving home early and coming back as late as I could. There was some part of me that childishly wished that when enough time passed, the situation would get settled on its own. That my tangled emotions would solve themselves without me having to deal with them. That one morning when I opened my eyes, all the answers I needed would be there. Just like that.

So I kept myself busy, making sure I always had something to do to prevent my mind from wandering. I spent three days spring cleaning the bookstore's stockroom from the ceiling to the floor, getting rid of all the piled up dust. When I was finished, I spent another three days suffering from a stuffy nose and a terrible headache.

Since it was January, I knew it was a little early for a spring clean, but it helped me take my mind off everything. And organizing things, finding items I'd lost years ago made me feel like I was organizing my mind, getting rid of all the clutter and mess.

It didn't work for very long, though. During the quiet moments when nothing was enough to keep me busy, my eyes wandered to the window, searching the streets outside. And I couldn't help but silently wonder whether or not I'd be here one year from now. Whether or not I'd be alive; whether or not I'd be human.

Maybe there would be someone else to do the spring cleaning.

I shoved the cash register closed a little too roughly. The customer on the other side of the counter gave me glance, sliding the book she'd just bought into her bag.

"Sorry," I smiled and tapped the side of the cash register. "The drawer gets stuck sometimes."

I managed to keep the smile on my face until she left. When the door clacked shut behind her, the corners of my lips fell like a switch had been flicked somewhere. Sinking on my chair, I touched the cash register again as if to apologize my earlier rough handling. Brutalizing it wouldn't help me.

When it got late enough, I locked the door and turned the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed'. After turning off some of the lights, I sat down behind the counter again and picked up the phone. I dialed the number without thinking. Without knowing what to say. Without knowing why I was calling.

All I knew was that I needed to hear a friendly voice.

It took only one ring before the phone was picked up, catching me off guard and giving me no time to think of something to say.

"Hello?"

I cleared my throat. "Hi, Charlie."

There was a surprised silence. "Bella?"

I gave a small laugh; it sounded weird in my ears. It seemed like forever since I'd last felt like laughing. "Yeah, it's me. You don't have to sound so startled."

Charlie chuckled. "No, it's just that... Well, it's been so long since I've heard from you."

"I know. I'm sorry I haven't called – I've just been so -,"

"Busy," he finished for me. "I know. Don't worry about it. It's funny, actually – I just got off the phone with your mother and I was going to call you next, but you were faster. I have... news. Or we have. Sue and I, that is." He cleared his throat, sounding nervous.

"Really?" I held back a smile, amused by his fluster. "What's up?"

I heard him clearing his throat again and drawing in a deep breath. It was a definite sign that something was making him feel uncomfortable. I could easily imagine him glancing up at the roof, trying to figure out how to get the words out of his mouth fast enough. And then he'd hope that he wouldn't have to repeat himself.

When he finally began to speak, I had trouble believing my ears.

"Wow," I managed to say when he had finished. My cheeks were feeling weird, and it took a while to realize that it was because I was smiling so widely. "Well, congratulations. I wish you two the best of happiness."

Charlie mumbled something that sounded like 'thanks', his voice gruff. "Now, are you sure you don't mind?"

I tried to stifle another smile, unsuccessfully. "Why would I mind? This is the best thing that could ever happen. Please congratulate Sue for me. I've been waiting for these kind of news for a while now."

"You have?" he asked. "And you're not upset because we got married in secret?"

"Of course not," I said, rolling my eyes. "I know the last thing you'd want is a big wedding. Getting married in the courthouse is much more to your style. And besides, I'm sure Sue had to make an effort to get you in a suit. I don't know if she had been able to make you walk down the aisle with dozens of people watching," I said, tongue in cheek.

There was a short silence. "Well, actually... I didn't even wear a suit."

I could only shake my head. "Of course not. What was I thinking? You got married in your police uniform, didn't you?"

Another silence. "Well... sort of... yes."

I nodded to myself, smiling smugly. The heavy weight that had seemed to be pressing me down for days lightened up a bit. For the shortest of moments, I was able to forget everything that shadowed my mind and be simply happy for Charlie and Sue. They deserved all the happiness there was after all their hardships. And I somehow just knew that what they had between them would last forever.

Forever.

I sucked in a breath at the word, trying to shake away the feelings it caused. Luckily Charlie was talking again, drawing my attention back to him. He told me about their plans to spend their honeymoon on Hawaii. I could only wonder how Sue had been able to persuade him to leave – Charlie was a stay-at-home person, and that was mildly put.

I suppose love could change even the smallest of things in a person.

Our conversation ended soon after I had congratulated Charlie once more and wished them a happy honeymoon. As I lowered the phone on the counter, I tried to hold onto the delight I felt for them. At first it was easy, but soon the silence of the store began to feel oppressive. I considered calling Renée, just to get an excuse to postpone going home.

Eventually I decided against it. My mom knew me too well, and she'd doubtlessly sense that something was troubling me. Instead I texted her, rejoicing about Charlie's and Sue's news. I didn't expect to get an answer – she still didn't know how to use her new cell phone properly. If Phil didn't happen to be home, even opening my message was probably challenging enough for her.

I smiled at the thought of my silly mother as I locked up and began to head home. The smile began as a fond one, but soon turned melancholy. But it was still a smile, sad or not.

My apartment looked dark and empty as I unlocked the door. For a moment I just stood there on the threshold, feeling reluctant to go in. Faint streaks of light were leaking inside, painting the floor of the small foyer with golden glow. I glanced at the yard lights behind my back, not remembering leaving them on this morning.

As I was about to step inside, something caught my eye. Frowning, I pulled the door closed behind me, and knelt beside the coat rack.

A single, yellow petal was resting on the floor, looking forgotten and lost. My fingers reached out to pick it up. It looked fresh and intact, not at all withered, even though it had been weeks since Alice had filled my apartment with those bright yellow flowers.

I brought the daffodil petal under my nose, drawing in a slow breath. The scent was delicate, just barely there. A little like spring – you knew it was somewhere there, on the verge of arriving, but still so very far away. Out of your reach.

I left the petal on the kitchen counter. The bright color of it stood out in my otherwise plain home. The stark, pale color of the walls was almost irritating; I'd never noticed it before.

The next day on my way home from the bookstore, I bought a huge bundle of daffodils. When I got home, I put the flowers in a vase and after a while of thought placed them in my bedroom. Their yellow blooms bowed to me as if in approval.

The next morning, I bought three gallons of paint. When I got home, I rolled up my sleeves and grabbed a paint roller.

By dusk, my kitchen-slash-living room was yellow. Yellow like the daffodils in my bedroom. Yellow like the sun at its rising. Yellow like the kitchen cupboards in Charlie's house in Forks.

In the twilight, as the last remnants of the light ebbed away, the color of the walls changed. It gained a darker, deeper hue, the luminous yellow fading slowly, almost stealthily, until resembling a rich shade of honey. For one endless moment, I stared at it, feeling like I was looking at something familiar, something safe. Something that was now missing. Something that wanted to be remembered by me.

And when I closed my eyes at night, I did.

I saw it, the intense stare of golden eyes. It didn't leave me be. Not even when the darkness set in, consuming the colors, and the light, and the day gone by. It kept following me, coaxing me gently into sleep to pull me into wakefulness again.

When the dreams finally took me, the memory of golden eyes was the last thing I saw.

The sand is warm under my bare feet. The breeze, gentle and quiet, brushes against my skin, sending a shiver along my spine.

I'm walking, I realize, but my eyes are on the ground ahead of me. I'm not looking where I should be looking. "Watch your step," my mother had always told me. "But don't forget to look where you're going."

I follow her old advice, wondering when I'd stopped listening to her warnings - wondering why I remember one now. Wondering when I'd stopped being that incautious child, the one paying no mind to the water puddles on the street or the slippery surface of the pier. The one who hadn't minded stumbling down and getting her knees scratched and bruised. Just as long as there had been someone to help her up, that girl hadn't minded a cut or two.

I wonder where that girl went. And I wonder how to get her back.

I look up from the sand, watching as the waves of the ocean crash on the shore, collapsing and colliding in each other. The moonlight plays upon the water, chasing the surges as if trying to keep up with them.

The waves calm down all of a sudden. Slightly changing direction, they move steadily onward, almost like being drawn by some invisible force. My eyes follow their movements, curious about the place where the water suddenly wants to flow. Then I see the figure standing in the waterline; the waves are going there. They are drawn to the figure, almost as if something is pulling them towards it. Towards her.

I move with the waves. Like gravity, the figure draws me in, summons me closer. Just like the flowing water at my feet, I'm choiceless.

In the blue moonlight, my mother looks like a magical being as she stands in the ankle-deep water. Her hands are grasping the hem of her summer dress, holding it away from the water. She smiles at me as I near. Her face is lined with wrinkles; they are born of smiles and laughter. Because a hundred smiles is worth a million wrinkles.

I reach out as if to touch her, to becon her to come to me. But she stands still. The smile on her lips changes; the lively spark in her eyes disappears. The expression on her face becomes serene. Calm.

I'm confused; I want to tell her that.

She holds my gaze, almost as if to make sure she has my full attention. Then she speaks. The words don't take my confusion away. They only add it.

"You must choose," she says. Her voice is comforting, guiding. "But before you choose, you have to know what is right for you."

A response already on my lips, I take another step closer. "I don't what is right," I say. My voice is small, timid. Fearful like a child's."I don't want to choose."

She smiles. It's a comforting smile, but also apologetic. A wave comes from the ocean, and she turns to look at it. Her eyes, blue like the ocean behind her, take a sadder note as she gazes at me one more time.

"Don't go," I whisper.

But she does. I blink once, and she's gone.

I brush a hand across my face. Tears mingle with seawater. I feel them trickling down my cheeks, slipping down my neck. Hot tears of loss and love. As they drop into the ocean one by one, I envy them because they seem to accept something I cannot. They are tears, and water is water, but yet they mix and mingle with each other, fearlessly and without hesitation, not minding the change. Not minding that once they have changed and become something else, there's no going back. But I am not like them and it saddens me.

My hair moves with the breeze. Then I feel it, the quiet presence behind my back. I don't turn around to see who it is. I already know.

"The more you fear the change, the more it's going to affect you."

Closing my eyes, I consider the words. My own words, spoken weeks ago. I realize that back then, I hadn't really known what I was talking about.

Do I know now? Am I any wiser?

"Changes always affect you," I answer. They are his words, but it's my mouth shaping them. "Whether you fear them or not."

"Bella." My name leaves his lips as a whisper. As an invitation. Arms wrap around me from behind. I lean into his strong frame, feeling searing pain and some strange, restful fulfillment at the same time. "You're not like most people."

His soft voice, now somewhere close to my left ear, makes me shiver. My skin prickles, catches on flames. Like wildfire, the burning spreads, starting somewhere near my heart, pulsing and pounding and throbbing until reaching all the way to my fingertips.

His cool fingers brush against my burning cheeks. The touch is soft, just barely there. Like the breeze against my skin – one moment it's there and the next it's gone.

"It is relieving to learn that certain things won't change," I hear him murmuring. His skin is cool against my warm one.

I turn around in his arms. My hands lying flat on his chest, I rise to my tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "Nothing really stays the same when you think about it."

I feel his smile as I begin to pull back. But he holds me still. The flames are raging again, licking my skin and leaving behind a familiar burn. My skin tingles, the blood coursing through my veins rippling and rushing forward like a tide. And then his skin, usually hard as granite and cold as ice, turns warm. It confuses me and awes me, and I gaze at him in wonder as I brush my fingers along the length of his arm.

And it is then when I notice it – the blue moonlight that reflects on the surface of my skin.

A frown furrows my brow. I give Carlisle a confused glance. He watches me closely as my fingers cease their gentle dance on his skin. His skin that is as pale as mine. As warm as mine.

Or as cold as mine.

We're the same temperature.

"But..." I frown again, gazing at his face as if I'm hoping to find all the answers there. I want to know when this has happened – and why I wasn't aware of it before now.

"Is something wrong?" The look in Carlisle's eyes is patient as he meets my gaze.

"I don't..." I search for words to answer him. To ask him all the questions teeming in my mind.

"It can be quite confusing," he says soothingly, sensing my distress. I want to tell him that he doesn't understand. That I don't understand. That none of this makes sense to me.

He's watching me closely again, his hand drawing soothing patterns on my back. His warm hand.

I tear my eyes away from his beautiful face to look around me. Everything is so sharp and defined – the waves that play about the shore, caressing our feet; the soft moonlight that ripples on the water, making the ocean look like an explosion of shimmer and sparkle. But then, everything changes. Something shrouds the moon – a cloud, I assume. But I have no time or will to focus on that, because something else demands my attention.

The skin against mine is turning colder.

I turn to Carlisle, but I've looked away from him too long. Because when my eyes search his face, he's no longer there. I see him standing a few steps away, his back to me.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears as he turns around slowly. The look in his eyes is questioning, almost like he expects me to do or say something. To give him an answer to a question I haven't heard.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words refuse to come.

There is disappointment in Carlisle's eyes, but also acceptance. He nods slowly, submissively, and slowly walks away.

My mouth opens to a soundless cry as he disappears into the night.

I rubbed my eyes with my other hand as I studied the shipping list document laying on the counter, vaguely realizing that I had begun to read the same word for the fourth time. An involuntary yawn escaped my lips. The bell above the door gave a gentle ring, forcing me to form a normal expression on my face as a customer entered. I probably still looked like I'd been awake for a year. I sure felt like I had.

This was my new routine. I stayed up late, fell asleep only to have restless and endless seeming dreams, and then woke up during the small hours of the morning. Fatigue was slowly eating away at me, and I was beginning to feel mentally and physically drained, like a rag that had been wrung out too many times.

I was almost getting used to feeling so tired all the time. Maybe it was a human thing. I'd noticed that if needed, your body and mind could adjust and adapt to almost anything.

And just like with everything else, I did. I adjusted. I adapted. Bending like reeds in the wind, hoping that the next storm wouldn't break me.

I somehow managed to crawl through the rest of the day. When I got home, I went through my mail and made myself a cup of tea. Then I took a quick shower and got changed. Glanced out of the window. Walked in circles around my apartment. Tidied up the kitchen. Glanced out of the window again.

In other words, repeated the same pattern I had fallen into days ago.

There was nothing wrong with routines – I actually liked those. But now I felt like I was simply functioning on autopilot, going about my days without thinking. Without moving. I was here, but I wasn't present. My mind, my thoughts, my heart... they were somewhere else. And what really bothered me was that I had left them behind. Stashed them away like embarrassing childhood pictures.

A sigh escaped my lips. The sound was sharp and loud in the quiet kitchen. I looked around me, my eyes studying the bright yellow walls. And that abrupt fit of spontaneity that had made me paint the room was suddenly something I missed dearly. I almost craved it, and I didn't know why.

I felt lost and adrift, even though a large part of me knew what I should do. What I should have done days ago. But running away from the problem, avoiding it the best I could, had somehow seemed easier.

I suppose that was a human thing, too. Taking the easy way out and ending up running in cirles.

My hand reached out, almost on its own accord, to take the keys from the table. After another sigh, I shrugged on my coat and tried to untangle my hair from the zipper. I suddenly realized I was feeling oddly wired, like an electric charge about to be set off. It took a while for me to recognize the feeling, but eventually I realized that I was awfully nervous.

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I turned the knob of the front door and pushed it open before I had the chance to change my mind. Getting cold feet was not an option.

As I locked the door behind me and felt the cold air on my skin, my earlier fatigue was forgotten. It was minus four below, and the cold air tingled in my throat. I pushed the discomfort aside, beginning to make my way down the alley of trees.

Midway down the alley, I stopped. My eyes searched the trees covered with frost, my quiet breaths visible in the cold air. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark, observing the shadows around me. A creepy thought came to me, one that made shivers run up my back. Anyone could be standing there, in the dark, and I'd have no clue.

I glanced toward the illuminated street a few dozen yards away. A few cars were passing by, the purr of their engines first nearing and then fading away. I considered walking up there and back to keep my muscles warm and the paranoid thoughts away. I pulled up the collars of my coat, looking away from the street into the trees again.

And what I saw made me nearly jump out of my skin. My mind was a second or two behind my body as I took an instinctive step back.

It took a moment for me to realize that there was no danger. Letting out a relieved breath, I tried to calm down my throbbing heart. It was thundering in my chest furiously, and I could actually feel it as it pounded against my ribcage.

Then I gave a glare at the person standing three steps away from me.

"Don't do that!" I reproached, trying to shake away the jitters.

"What?" Alice asked innocently. "Weren't you expecting someone? Why else would you be standing here in the cold if not waiting for me?" She quirked her brow. "Or did you expect someone else?"

I sighed, my irritation beginning to pass. A sharp feeling of disappointment threatened to conquer me, and I tried to ignore the feeling with little success.

Of course it was nice to see Alice after so many days. But truthfully, I had expected someone else to show up. Admitting that to myself was surprisingly hard.

Alice seemed to guess where my mind was, or then my feelings were visible on my face.

"Look," she said with a smile, her tone surprisingly gentle. "I know it's not me you looked forward to see. I just wanted to let you know that Carlisle's away at the moment."

"Oh." I bit my lip and nodded, trying to find my voice. "Where is he?"

"In Alaska," she answered. "He left three days ago. He went to see the Denalis, and Esme and Miguel as well. They wanted to talk about the situation face to face."

The situation being the Volturi. I held the words inside, suddenly feeling like saying them out loud would make the threat more real.

"Is there anything new?" I asked, involuntarily wrapping my arms around myself.

Alice shook her head. "I'm keeping an eye on them," she assured, for some reason avoiding speaking the Volturi's name as well. "If they make a decision that concerns us or you, I will see it."

I lowered my gaze to the ground. Her last sentence stirred something within me. It was guilt; regret. It was right then and there when the whole situation truly sunk in. This wasn't just about me, about my life and well-being. It was also about the Cullens. When the Volturi decided to act, it wouldn't just be my life on the line. The Cullens would be in danger as well. And possibly even the Denalis – after all, they knew about me, too. And that knowledge could cost them their life.

All these past days I'd despaired about my situation, mourned for my human life and the things, the people, the future I'd lose. I hadn't given a thought to anyone else. Suddenly I felt very young, very naive. Very self-centered. Giving the Cullens the silent treatment and secluding myself like a sulking child didn't help anyone.

I lifted my eyes from the ground. Alice met my gaze; she was studying me carefully.

I gave a nod toward my apartment. "Would you like to come in?"

Normally I wasn't so stiff and formal with her, but now I felt like I owed it. And I owed a lot more than a simple request to come inside. I owed an explanation and an apology.

Alice flashed me a smile. Then she took my hand and pulled me along with her, through the darkness and the cold air. The snow softened the sound of our feet as we made our way out of the alley. When I opened the door for her, she stepped inside like the past few days didn't exist at all. Like I hadn't built an invisible, impenetrable barrier between us, a barrier that had separated me and them.

That was a funny thing about Alice. At times, she could drive you crazy, but the very next moment, she could be the easiest person to be with. She was as uncomplicated as she was complex.

Once inside, her gaze began to wander around the yellow walls.

"You've painted," she stated the obvious, settling on the couch. "I like it. It's like a room full of sunshine."

"You're not the only one who has a knack for fixing up houses," I said, tongue in cheek. "And you don't have to pretend surprise. I'm sure you saw the outcome hours before me."

She flashed me a smile. "I was a little taken aback when you decided to paint the most prominent room in your apartment screaming yellow. You and your whims."

I sat down next to her. "I'm sure that if you had foreseen that the result is bad, you'd have interfered in time," I pointed out, half serious and half joking.

Alice was still smiling, but the playfulness was gone from her eyes. "No," she denied gently. "I wouldn't have. You have the right to make your own decisions. I have no say in that. None of us do."

Looking at the hands in my lap, I nodded mutely, knowing that we weren't talking about paint colors anymore.

"Look," I began quietly, lifting my gaze again. "Back at your house, I know that my reaction to Carlisle's news wasn't very... I don't know. Appropriate."

"I think it was," she disagreed. "You had every right to react like you did."

"Well, maybe." I took a better position, lifting my feet on the couch. "But I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I know I've been very withdrawn for these past few days, and I'm sorry. It wasn't really my intention to act that way. I just didn't know how to deal with all this. I still don't."

"We understand that, Bella," Alice assured. "And the reason why we didn't come to knock on your door the next morning was that we wanted to give you space. We knew you needed it."

"I appreciate it," I murmured. A memory came to me, washing over me like a tidal wave. I remembered looking outside the window the night when Carlisle had brought me home. I remembered the moonlight. I remembered the footsteps in the snow. I remembered how they had chased mine, but turned back.

"I shouldn't have treated Carlisle the way I did." The words tumbled from my lips in a hurry, flowing into the air like poison. Suddenly I thought about how I'd felt just a few minutes ago when Alice had appeared from the darkness of the alley; when I'd realized that against my expectations, I wouldn't see Carlisle. It hadn't been a guilty feeling – it had been something deeper.

Now I recognized that feeling. I realized that I'd taken his presence for granted. First, I'd walked away from him without saying a word, and then I'd secluded myself for days on end. And when I'd finally come to conclusion that I was ready to talk, I'd expected him to be there in an instant. Just like that.

I really couldn't blame him for going to Alaska. Even polar bears would probably make better company than I did.

Frustration washed over me. I lifted my legs up and leaned my forehead against my knees, wrapping my arms around my legs.

"Carlisle's not upset with you," I heard Alice reassuring. "He completely understands why you've been so remote."

"I know he does." My voice came out muffled. "That's what makes him so perfect."

Her silence compelled me to look up.

"Perfect, you say?" she asked, arching her brow playfully. "That's interesting."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Don't start."

"Why not?"

"Because," I answered, dropping my feet to the floor again and avoiding her eyes. I decided to change the subject before she decided say something else.

Clearing my throat, I got up and walked to the kitchen sink to get myself a glass of water. "How is Edward taking this situation?" I asked, realizing that this was the first time I even bothered to think about Edward. If I knew him at all, his head had probably exploded when he had found out that the Volturi possibly knew about me. He had always been overprotective. I was pretty sure that he still possessed that particular trait.

Alice shrugged. "You know Edward," she stated, confirming my suspicions. "He had his worst fears realized when he read that nomad's mind and found out about the Volturi. This is the kind of thing he always tried to protect you from." She fell silent, hesitating before speaking again. "And he's not exactly thrilled about the offer Carlisle made to you. They had an argument about it when Carlisle arrived to Alaska."

My head whipped around. "What? Is he still – , " I searched for words, setting down my glass so hard it was a wonder it didn't shatter. I let out a breath in a huff. "It's not his place to criticize Carlisle about offering to change me. I can't believe he's still obsessing about that!"

"You can't?" Alice raised one eye brow and smiled wryly.

I let out a sigh, trying to release my irritation. It was difficult. "I know Edward means well," I said slowly. It took a huge amount of patience to say the words. "And he's allowed to have an opinion. But he doesn't have the right to make decisions for me. He's done that once before." I raked my fingers through my hair, sauntering back to the couch. "How is he expecting the situation to unfold, then?" I wondered. "So what if Carlisle offered to change me? Would Edward rather see me being slaughtered by the Volturi? Is becoming a vampire really so much worse an alternative?"

"I don't know. Is it?" Alice asked pointedly.

I glanced at her. For once, her subtle innuendos didn't irritate me. But surely she already knew, maybe even better than I did, that I wasn't exactly making progress when it came to making up my mind. Even after all these days, after all this time that I've had to mull things over and let my thoughts brew... I still wasn't getting anywhere. I felt like I was halfway to somewhere, but I didn't know where. And everytime I tried to take a step forward to keep going, I found myself standing still. The path I was on was shrouded in uncertainty, and walking it blind was a task that seemed impossible to accomplish.

It was because I didn't know what lay at the end of that path. A quiet voice somewhere within me said that I didn't have to know – that I just had to keep going. The rest would come along on its own.

It was difficult to listen to that voice; it was smothered by doubt and mistrust.

Alice met my gaze as I looked at her, my eyes devoid of answers.

"Remember what I said earlier," she said quietly, sensing my inner confusion. "This is your decision, and yours only. You're in no hurry to make it. There's not an immediate danger. It may take years before the Volturi bother to think about you and take action."

I nodded, grateful of her support. But her reassurances didn't take my fears and worries away. I acknowledged what she said and understood that she meant well. This was my choice to make, yes – but what really unsettled me was that I knew it wouldn't affect just me. Whatever I decided, it would also involve someone I held dear.

One question remained – a question that was unbearable. But I had to ask it from myself. Who would end up suffering because of my decision? My parents or the Cullens? Who was I willing to hurt?

Without realizing, I'd risen up from the couch and walked to the window. The small table under it was littered with framed photographs. Faces stared up at me, pairs of blue and brown eyes studying me curiosuly, almost expectantly. I looked more through them than at them as I slowly drowned in my lack of hope. Lack of purpose.

The darkness outside the window was endless, but it gave me some strange solace. Darkness was just darkness, nothing more and nothing less, but it was here to stay. One half of the world was always consumed by it. It was a constant that didn't change no matter where you were, something that was permanent and everlasting. And if you wanted to live, you had to come to terms with it.

Maybe it was supposed to be that way. Maybe I had to come to terms with the darkness, with not being able to see where to go. Maybe I wasn't supposed to know where my next step would land. Maybe I was supposed to stumble and take missteps.

Maybe some paths had to be walked blind.

AN: Tadaa! Don't worry, I'm still here. The reason for my delayed update is - surprise surprise - technology and its unpredictable instability. Last month my old laptop decided that now its a good time to say beep-beep and good night. It took a while until I got a new one, and even longer until I got the internet working in it (Windows 8, I know we haven't known for very long, but I already hate you.)

Originally, there was supposed to be some Carlisle/Bella interaction in this chapter, but I had a nagging feeling that Bella should have a chance to think about things on her own at first. Sometimes you need distance to get perspective.

In the dream sequence, Carlisle's line "It can be quite confusing." is a direct quote from Stephenie Meyer's Breaking Dawn. Carlisle says this to Bella after her transformation.

The next chapter is underway, and I'll post it as soon as I get it done. I hope you enjoy so far! :)

AN/12.7.2015: Hang in there, the next chapter is taking longer than I planned. The story is not adandoned! :)