.
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Waking up next to Jasper was normal. Waking up naked with Jasper's limbs wrapped around mine so tightly it felt as if we'd never part? Not so much. I smiled into my pillow, feeling him hot and present pressed against my back, wanting him there more than he probably knew.
I tried to stretch out the kinks in my body, but couldn't with Jasper curled around me. So, I snuggled deeper into his embrace and attempted to fall back to sleep—it was barely three and the rain had yet to let up.
But as I shifted in the sheets, I noticed a shadow streaked across the floor that was not familiar to my eyes. There was nothing in my room that would make that shape, and as I turned my head to look down the bed towards the door, what I saw made my heart freeze in my chest.
"Jasper," I breathed out, petrified. He didn't stir, only held me tighter. At that moment, I found no comfort in his embrace.
There, in the doorway to my bedroom, stood Rose.
She was visibly shaking and something was hanging from her right hand. From my reclined and vulnerable position on the bed, I could see part of whatever she held catching the light from the street lamp outside. I strained to distinguish if it were a weapon or a bottle—both would do damage.
An eternity of silence stretched out before me, like a limbo of uncertainty. The only advantage I held was Jasper's strength, but he was asleep and unresponsive to me pinching his arm. I didn't want to make a sudden move, for fear of alerting the feral cat in my doorway. Rose was shaking and her eyes were wide, she wasn't really there inside herself, and her blatant crazed demeanor terrified me.
"Rose..." I said with as clear a voice as I could manage.
"He's supposed to want me," she whispered, her voice a harsh bite of venom in the air. I could almost feel the pain laced behind it.
I made the mistake of looking at him, asleep and oblivious to what was happening around him. He looked so content and beautiful with the dim light reflecting off his skin, tinged blue in the dark.
Whatever expression that crossed my face at that observation made Rose snap. She screeched out a banshee-like wail of sadness, regret and anger—I'd never heard a person make such a noise. Before I could react, she hurled something above her head and smashed it down onto the metal rail of the bed, over and over.
A twang of broken, resonating sound echoed throughout the room as I cringed into Jasper's side and he jerked awake from the noise. His arms held me tighter on instinct, and I flinched as splinters of wood and metal showered down on us.
It felt as if the world were moving in slow motion—with Rose's wails sounding muffled in my ears—as I reached out a hand to pick up a piece of stained mahogany lying on the duvet.
Rose ran down the hall, still manic and screaming, and Jasper scrambled out of bed to follow, asking me if I was alright while shoving on a pair of jeans. He cursed as he trampled on the debris covering my bedroom floor, before disappearing down the hallway.
I was left in my bed, surrounded by pieces of colored wood and steel-coiled string, feeling my world collapse inside of me.
With shaking hands, I reached to turn on the lamp next to the bed to see the piece of wood still clutched in my hand more clearly. As the flicker of light shot through the room and my eyes adjusted enough to take in the aftermath of Rose's outburst, my worse fears were realized.
My mother's guitar...shattered.
Hissing, I opened up my clenched fist, where the splinter of wood still lay, now mixed with blood as I'd held it too tightly. I watched the red wood and the red blood mingle as my vision swam.
I pulled up my knees and buried my head, ready to let out a wail of my own, when the echo of screeching tires and shouts cut the silence of the night. I shot up, terrified at the sound of a wet thud hitting metal, and car tires coming to an abrupt stop.
Launching myself out of the bed, and crying out as I skidded across the splinter laden floor, I grabbed a robe to cover myself reciting please, please, please not him the entire way down the hall and out the front door. The last of my mother had just been taken from me, if Jasper were next...I couldn't think...I couldn't comprehend, just...please not him.
Jumping down from the porch, I fell to my knees upon seeing the sight outside my door. Jasper was there, standing and whole, but there was blood and blonde hair and long limbs mangled and laying at odd angles in the grass. Rose had been hit, and she was splayed out on my lawn like some kind of broken angel with tattered, blood soaked wings. A large man stood over her, his hands in his hair, pleading with Jasper that it wasn't his fault. They didn't see her, she'd just tore into the road as they turned the corner...he'd never meant for it to happen.
There was so much regret in his voice, my eyes began to tear. They fell, silent and steady down my cheeks, mixing with the misting rain, as the man fumbled while dialing his phone: 911.
His friends called out from behind him in the Jeep, telling them to leave her. They were drunk, I could tell, and I hated them on instinct for their stupid, non-thinking cruelty. They were responsible, and only one of them stood on the lawn, taking up that responsibility. Before I could take in much more of the sight before me, the Jeep sped off and the large man was chasing them down the street, shouting, "Fucking cowards!"
Fucking criminals more like. The man turned in the road and marched back to Rose in the grass, sinking hard to his knees, hovering over her with desperate hands.
I felt arms surround me and I screamed. The man's head shot up to look at me for the first time and I fumbled in Jasper's steady embrace, feeling foolish and broken, and the tears became impossible to stop. I turned and buried my face into Jasper's chest.
"Is she alive?" I asked, terrified of the answer.
"Yes."
We sat there in the rain soaked grass, holding onto each other as the large man kept guard over Rose. Sirens howled in the distance and we waited, listening as their blasts became louder and louder.
Finally, lights appeared in my vision, and men in dark jackets with large, white letters printed across their backs were on my lawn assessing Rose. A brace was secured around her neck and she was carefully placed onto a stretcher, her once perfect body looking twisted in so many wrong directions.
The large man stood tall as he gave his name and identification to the cops: Emmett McCarthy, 256 Vigil Street. Once he'd completed answering the cop's questions, he insisted on riding in the ambulance with the girl. He felt responsible, and wanted to be there when she woke.
In a distracted sort of way, I found myself looking around the scene, both hoping for my father and wishing that he wouldn't be anywhere near.
"Do you know her name?" I heard the cop ask, and Emmett's stoic expression faltered.
"Emmett!" I called, trying to make my voice sound strong as opposed to weak and breaking. He excused himself from the officer and jogged over, his large strides making vibrations on the wet ground.
"Rosalie Hale," I told him as soon as he was within earshot, and his expression morphed from confusion to gratitude. He gave me a huge, toothy grin before running back to tell the cop, assuring him that she had no one else near, and insisting again on riding in the ambulance with her.
The EMTs relented at his fourth request, and let him climb in through the back doors before shutting him inside. Feeling an odd sense of relief, I rested my head back against Jasper's shoulder and he squeezed me tight around the middle. I flinched when his hands tried to hold my own, and he pried apart the fingers of my left hand, seeing the bloody splinter still clutched tight in my palm.
"Bella?" he asked, and I shook my head. I couldn't explain it to him right now, not with with everything that had just happened.
A cop made his way over to us from across the street, and I closed my eyes, turning my face in to Jasper's neck, wanting no part in talking with the man. He reminded me of my father, and that only made me hold tighter to the splinter in my palm, the mess of my mother's guitar strewn about my bedroom burned behind my eyelids.
Fresh tears leaked down my cheeks as I tried to keep myself together in Jasper's arms. He calmly answered all of the officer's questions, and was soon shaking me awake, wanting to take me back inside.
"No," I said, groggy but determined not to set foot back in my bedroom.
"Bella?"
"Your house." I looked up at him with pleading eyes and he seemed to understand, nodding and walking me across the lawn to his bungalow in silence.
He took me to his room and stripped me of the robe I'd been wearing, which was soaked and stained from the wet grass. I shivered, naked before him, but he didn't keep me waiting, he clothed me in a warm flannel that fell to my knees, and buttoned me up with patience and small kisses, keeping me calm.
He checked my hand, taking the piece of wood from my palm and placing it where I could see it on the nightstand. He padded off to the bathroom, and came back with a wet towel and Band-Aids in his arms.
"You don't—" I tried to say, but he cut me off.
"Yes, I do."
He cleaned my hand and taped it up before checking my feet for splinters. Thankfully, there were none, just scrapes and dirt, which he wiped away with the wet towel.
"Sleep," he said, lowering me to the bed and laying the covers over me. I pulled at his arms, wanting him next to me but he kissed me silent and shook his head, telling me he'd be back soon.
I wanted to argue but my eyes were closing without my say so, and my mind was shutting down faster than I could fight it. Too much activity, too much stress...my mother's guitar...gone.
. . .
I woke to a sense of déjà vu, as I felt Jasper's strong body pressed into my back. I pushed into him, feeling him so present and real, wanting to savor the moment. I'd had both a nightmare and a dream the night before, and blinking at the light streaming in through the blinds, I came to terms with the realization that my mother's guitar had been destroyed and that Rose had nearly died, all within a span of three minutes. I began to question whether being with Jasper had been real. The soft kisses he gave me, and the strong hands that held me as I sat astride him.
Turning to see his face, I found him awake and watching me.
I wanted to ask him if last night had been one strange roller coaster of a dream, but felt foolish in the morning light. He was smiling, gentle and small, the corners of his lips barely curving as he watched me turn to curl into his chest.
We laid there for several minutes in comfortable silence. I selfishly relished the quiet and the solemn feel of the morning, how weighted it all was, and how heavy my limbs were in the bed. The air was warm, but the light was weak, barely pushing past the window blinds. The combination let me fool myself into thinking how peaceful it all seemed, but Jasper's arms giving me a small squeeze of reassurance reminded me that last night was no mere nightmare.
"I have to go down to the police station today," he said, his voice small in the quiet space. I nodded, not wanting to speak. "I don't know how long it'll take, but I want to give you something when I get back."
Curious, I looked up to see him staring down at me.
"What?"
He smiled, though he seemed sad, and my heart twinged in my chest.
"Can I stay here...today?" I asked him, feeling too raw to go home.
"Of course. Though, there's not much food. Maybe some eggs."
"Is there tea?"
He smiled again, and this time there was no melancholy behind his eyes.
"Yeah, there's tea."
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A/N: Thank you so much to FarDareisMai2 for her very quick, and wonderful beta work. *hugs her PF*
This is my Valentine's gift to y'all. :-) I'm sorry for the lack of updates. I do know how the story will end, and it's very quickly coming to a close. This was the last hump of action before the final few chapters. I hope you've enjoyed the ride.
Thanks for reading.