I looked at Jesse in awe. Did he really just ask that? Have I shown any interest in marrying him over that past few months? I'm fifteen for crying out loud, and he hasn't even graduated yet! My age was only one of the variables in this equation, Austin was the other.

I was supposed to go to the gallery in a couple of days.

I was supposed to tell him that I dreamt about him while in a coma.

I was supposed to tell him that we were meant to be together.

I was supposed to tell him that I loved him.

Once I got over the shock and was able to form a sentence, that contained actual words, I gave Jesse a reply that he probably didn't want to hear. "Can I think about it?" I whispered keeping my head towards the ground. "Of course...yeah." He smiled but it was obvious that he was hurt. Thankfully he's the glass-half-full type of person. He understood that I hadn't said yes, but I hadn't said no either.

I got up as quickly as I had sat down and made my way back to the crowd. Mom and Jake were sitting close to the fire listening to Dylan trying to impress a girl singing his rendition of "Sexy Back" when I stomped past them, arms folded scowl on my face, with Jesse keeping his distance as he followed. Mom started the interrogation. "Are you okay hun?" My turned sharply towards her. "Oh of course mother, he just proposed, I'm just perfect right now," I answered her, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm in my voice. My mom stared at me in a look of disbelief which quickly turned into a death glare a Jake who shrugged trying to look innocent of all accused charges. She got up, dragging Jake along with her, and pulled Jesse far away from the crowd for a serious talk. I stuffed the car keys that she left on the bench into my pocket and made a bee line for the car. In the process of yanking the keys from my pocket I think I may have torn my pocket lining. I hastily messed with the buttons on the remote, searching for the unlock button, in the process I set of the car alarm and opened the trunk several times. Once I located the unlock button I threw open the door and slammed it behind me as quickly as I had opened it. I thrust my body forward, ramming the keys into the ignition but only turning them far enough to turn on the radio. I pulled myself into the backseat with my arms wrapped around my knees. "Whataya Want from Me" blasted through the speakers and tears started trickling down my cheeks and onto the upholstery; my breath came out in harsh pants. I sat there feeling sorry for myself for another fifteen minutes until mom opened the backseat door. "Hey baby," she whispered quietly. I threw myself into her arms and started balling; I didn't care anymore if people saw how weak I actually was.

How could he do this to me? Did he really expect me to say yes? Did he think I was ready for that type of commitment?

Jake climbed into the front seat, put the car in drive, and headed back to Forks. I stayed curled in my mother's arms until we got home. Jake got out and went to the other side of the car. He cradled me in his arms and I rested my head in his chest. They brought me upstairs to my room and tucked me in, not bothering to take off my clothes. They went back downstairs for about an hour but went to bed most likely after a long talk. They checked on me and I was somehow able to fool Jake into thinking I was asleep, or he chose not to out me. I waited another hour after the checked on me to reach for my stash under the bed that I haven't touched since two months before we left Boston.

I grabbed the small shoe box that I found after we moved to Forks. I restocked after we moved to Forks. I couldn't very well have taken my supplies on the plane with me. If we had driven had would've had a better chance of transporting it without getting caught.

My fingers searched blindly until I nicked my finger and felt that flicker of pain that only briefly lasts. I grabbed the cotton pads, Neosporin, and antiseptic wipes. I grabbed the small shred of my Venus razor blade. Even though it was a small sliver of part of one of the three blades it was sharp enough to help me. I pulled off my shirt and looked for the small puckered scars from the last time. At first I thought the blade hadn't cut; I hadn't felt enough pain. I dug the blade deeper into my skin, looking for a pain that never came. Yes, there was blood, but no pain. I took the blade and moved to my other shoulder, digging deeper and deeper, still finding no release. I brought the blade to my upper thigh and dug. I made sure that I only cut the top and outside of my thigh, avoiding my femoral artery and any major bleeding that would be difficult to cover up. No matter where I put the blade, I couldn't find release. I decided I did enough damage for one night and grabbed the cotton pads to wipe away some of the blood. I cleaned all the cuts with antiseptic wipes and dabbed them with Neosporin. I reached for my pack of Band Aids and covered as many of the cuts as I could. I stuffed the box back under my bed and went to my dresser. I grabbed sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. I pulled back the sheet and climbed into my warm bed.