Chapter XI: Where Are You My Angel Now?
When I was two years old, I fell out of a tree.
It was brutally windy that day. My parents told me not to play outside, but I grabbed Jacob and went off anyway. I disobeyed them. Jacob never could tell me no. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to climb our tree. The hail came down suddenly. Jacob was trapped at the bottom of the tree, unable to climb in his wolf form. He whined and barked at me to come down. But for some reason, I climbed higher. I wanted to touch the dark clouds. I wanted to see the trees whipped by the force of the wind. Between the slick branches and the violent winds, I was knocked from my perch and fell to the earth. I panicked as I plummeted and was unable to grab hold of a branch or land on my feet. The force of the fall knocked the breath from my lungs and caused a shooting fire to erupt up and down my spine. I wasn't broken. I survived. However, it was first time in my life I realized I could feel pain. Physical pain. Before that moment, pain was meaningless to me. It was just a concept, an idea. I'd never skinned my knee or broken my arm. I'd never had a stomach ache or a fever. I thought I was as unbreakable as my family.
I was wrong. And despite the lesson I learned, I still didn't understand his face, all twisted up. I didn't understand the heavy pants coming from his throat. I didn't understand why my grandmother was on the phone desperately trying to reach my grandfather. It was unreal. It wasn't happening.
The red was almost gone. All that was left was a clear tube with sticky red residue that clung to the interior. It was lodged into his side. He grasped at it; his fingers crumpled up like broken tree branches. His efforts were in vain. This was just another way in which we could break. Even he was not unbreakable. Even he could feel pain.
It wasn't until he fell to his knees that I moved. I dove for him. I let him lean into me. His face was scrunched up. I couldn't even see his eyes.
He put himself in front of the fire to protect me. I held him when I thought the danger was gone. But that fog…that damn insidious fog that clouded up my senses. I didn't smell the human, or see him, or hear him. Sasha knew better what to listen for. He heard the trigger pull. The Gypsy was probably trying to shoot us both while we were embraced. Kill two birds with one stone. Sasha…pushed me. He shoved me out the line of fire at the last possible moment. But he wasn't fast enough. And now he was lying on the ground with the poison in his side, unable to catch his breath, squirming around like fish out of water, pawing at his wound. Pain.
I didn't know what to do. I never learned how to heal. I'd barely known pain. I blindly reached for the arrow.
"Do not touch it," he hissed through his teeth. "It is poisoned."
I know that.
"What can I do?" I mumbled.
"Nothing," he murmured. His legs jerked out underneath him. His hands reached aimlessly around in the grass and pine needles.
I know it's poisoned.
"Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine," I whispered. My words held no confidence, only desperation. "Carlisle is coming."
Tell me something else.
"Nessie, I am sorry."
I run my hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He blinked wearily at me. "Don't talk," I ordered. He was unable to hold himself up at all, so I rested his head against my lap. I continued to push my hand through his hair and over his forehead. He was sweating. He still couldn't breathe. How did Jacob help me to breathe when the wind was knocked out of me? I put my hand on his chest and tried to force him to follow my breaths, but I was breathing too quickly as well.
Tell me how to stop it.
"I am sorry," he repeated.
"For what?" I whimpered.
"For being so damn slow," he muttered before his voice was seized with a coughing fit.
I thought I laughed. It may have just sounded like hysterics. His cough eventually subsided.
"You're such an idiot," I said without thinking. "You're going to be fine, okay?"
Tell me how to fix it.
"It is better this way. Safe," he murmured. His eyes fell closed. "You are safe. Safe." He sounded like he was praying.
Yes, I was safe. But better? Better than what? "You're not making sense." Neither did the clammy feel to his skin. Neither did the sputtering of his voice. It was almost like he was…human. Closer to being human than me.
His eyes were still closed. I shook him. "Hey! Open your eyes. Stay awake. Carlisle is coming." Because he would come. He would run the moment he knew of the danger Sasha was in and he would fix it. My grandfather could fix anything.
Tell me what I need to know.
His eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were the same—perfect and shocking as ever. His hand shook as he lifted it to my face. His icy fingertips stroked my cheek. My eyes closed. I'd wanted this intimacy, this closeness. He was touching my face. He wasn't supposed to touch my face.
Don't do this to me.
I took hold of his hand and forced it away from my cheek. I clutched it between both of my own. "Don't!" I shouted. His face was startled. I thought I relaxed my voice, but it didn't sound relaxed. "I don't want that. I don't want to forget."
He smiled at me, only halfway this time. The look on his face was one of relief, but not from the pain. His chest continued to heave. His muscles of his hand twitched within my grasp.
Somewhere in my consciousness, I was aware I was being watched. I wanted us to be alone. I wanted us to be in the living room of my cottage, arguing about the allegorical nature of some novel, sneaking kisses when my parents were out of the room. But that wasn't going to happen. It was never going to happen again. I bent forward, connecting my forehead to his, just like I had moments ago. It felt like we were alone, just barely.
He spoke softly, his voice fading. "You woke up my sleeping heart. I thought it had known all the love it would ever know, but you…"
"Shhh," I pleaded again.
Why are you saying this me?
"Please don't leave me. I just found you," I begged.
I love you.
I opened my eyes to see if he heard me. The smallest nodding of his head told me he had. I wanted to do it better. I wanted it to bring him happiness.
"It does," he promised. His body tensed and relaxed. His fingers weren't seizing as tightly.
"Good. Then that's all we need."
We're going to be fine. We love each other. We're going to be happy.
I promised him. He shook his head.
"You are going be fine," he whispered.
You're wrong.
I placed both my hands on either side of his face and kissed him hard. My heart ached, hoping some speck of magic inside me would make itself known. Somehow, my kiss would awaken him like a reverse Sleeping Beauty.
Beneath my lips, I felt his body relax completely, but it felt wrong. I lifted my face only an inch from his. His eyes were no longer his. They were empty. He was gone. I leaned my forehead against his neck hearing nothing but my heart's slow and insistent beats. I wanted them to stop. I wanted them to stop extending my life when the thing I wanted most was lying dead next to me. I don't know how long I had been sitting there when I was pulled away.
Cradled in someone's arms, I looked up into the sky. The clouds had turned darker. Once again, I had climbed too high and crashed down back down to the earth. This pain was something new, and it swallowed me whole.