Chapter 36

"Telling the truth is less demanding than telling a lie."
― Eraldo Banovac

Edward

"Edward. Edward!"

I moan as Emmett shakes me, and although I know he's stopped, I still feel like I'm moving.

Oh, my God, I've never felt this bad in my entire life.

Every inch of my body aches, my throat feels like it's on fire, and my head is splitting.

"Edward!"

"Yeah! Fuck!" I mumble, trying not to move even the slightest bit.

"We have about sixty seconds until Dad gets here, so listen closely, and don't fuck this up. It's Sunday morning. You and I spent the night at Evan's on Friday, and then you had a seizure when we got home."

"But—"

"No buts! I'll explain later; just do as I say."

I raise one aching eyelid and find Emmett glaring down at me. My head hurts too much to form a coherent thought about anything, and all I want right now is to go back to sleep and hope I wake up feeling better. So I'll do as he says. Emmett always has my ass, but from the look on his face, he's gonna have my ass again later today.

What the fuck did I do?

Just then, Dad bustles in.

"Good morning, son. How are you feeling?"

Christ! Does he have to scream?

"Ohh," I moan, gingerly touching my head.

"Sorry," Dad says, cutting the volume a little.

I start the process of rolling to my side, and immediately realize I really have to piss. At this moment, I think I would rather die than try to get out of this bed, but if I piss myself, I'll still have to get up, and it'll be even more work. Fuck.

"I need to—"

"Here, let me help you," Dad says as he takes my arm and helps me sit up, and suddenly, everything is spinning and then—

"Edward. Edward!"

"Wha-huh?" I mumble. I'm lying down again, and Dad is leaning over me.

"You just went orthostatic on me."

"What?"

"You tried to stand up and your blood pressure dropped, so you passed out."

Dad pinches the skin on my arm and stares at the spot. "Ouch! What the—"

"Have you been drinking enough?"

Oh fuck, that's what I did.

Images from Friday night flicker through my head, but they're hazy and disjointed—Lauren's confession, oh fuck, downing vodka like it was water, searching for Bella and falling down? My stomach turns at the mere thought of the word "vodka", and I nearly gag.

"Edward?"

I snap back to the present. "I've been trying to."

I hear a huff from across the room, and I swear I can actually hear Emmett's eyes rolling. I really didn't mean that to be a joke—obviously Dad doesn't know what I did on Friday night, and I had to say something.

"Emmett? Why don't you give us a few minutes?"

My brother nods at Dad, and when Dad looks away, he narrows his eyes at me—a reminder to stick to the story.

Dad's smile has turned decidedly doctor. "I'll be right back, Edward."

I still have to piss, but while I'm trying to decide how to solve that problem without passing out or christening my sheets, Dad returns with his arms full of medical supplies. Oh hell, this isn't gonna be good.

The first thing he produces is a urinal, and I'm so freaking happy I almost cheer out loud … until I realize what he really wants is a look at my piss.

"You're severely dehydrated, Edward. You're going to need to drink a lot of water today—"

I groan out loud before he can even finish his sentence. The thought of drinking anything right now is making me queasy, and my stomach muscles feel like I did a few hundred crunches.

"Dad, I don't think I can—"

"Nauseous?"

"Yeah, I—"

"I thought you'd say that, but we can't wait to hydrate you until you're feeling better. I'd really like to give you an IV line for a few hours. If we don't do it here, we may need to go to the ER—"

"All right, whatever," I say, resigning myself to my fate. That's what all the other stuff he brought is for.

He hooks me up and hangs the line from my headboard.

"That's a little lower than I'd like to hang it—I don't know where your mother put the pole we used last time. Make sure you stay flat on your back until I find a better solution."

No worries, Dad, I don't think I could move if I tried. "Okay."

I'm almost asleep when I feel the bottom of the bed dip.

"Fuck, dude. Dad stuck you?"

"Yeah. I don't wanna drink anything—"

"I'm not surprised," Emmett says, all lightness gone from his expression. "You had enough for the whole fucking football team on Friday night."

I've been trying not to think about anything I remember from Friday, and how shitty I feel at the moment has been a great help in distracting me, but the look on Emmett's face makes me think I owe him even more than I think I do. I owe it to him to go through this, even though I don't want to.

"I'm sorry, Emmett, I—"

"Do you even know what to be sorry for?" His hands curl into fists, and I notice that the knuckles on one are bruised. "Because I'd be amazed if you even remember half of it; you were that fucked up."

Shame washes over me like a warm tide. "You said we spent the night at Evan's. I, um … don't remember that at all."

"That's because it didn't happen," Emmett says, and he takes a second to stare at the ceiling. "When I finally found you, you were face down in the dirt, and Mike and Tyler were laughing their asses off at you."

Bella's waiting for you over by that tree.

The memories fly at me, and now that I'm sober, I understand what was going on. Oh, God.

"Once I was drunk, they kept making me drink more. Mike even held the bottle for me when I was too fucked up to do it myself."

"That fucking asshole! I should have given him more than a black eye!"

"You punched him?"

"Damn right, I did! Fucker was drunk himself and had no idea how much he'd given you! He could have killed you!"

I close my eyes against the words and images assaulting me, my stomach rolling as I remember how I felt. If Mike had kept giving me vodka, I would have kept drinking it, and I'd probably be dead now.

"Emmett, I … I'm so glad you came and found me—"

"You … you passed out, and I had to carry you out of the woods and to the car. I didn't know what the fuck to do—I couldn't take you home like that or you'd be busted for sure. So I called Dad and told him we were sleeping out, but … you're the only one who did any sleeping."

"Oh, Christ, Em." I don't want to hear anymore. The only things I remember after lying on the ground and seeing Emmett are just a few flashes—the backseat of Emmett's car in the daylight, and sitting on the floor in our bathroom. Jesus Christ, I blacked out for at least ten hours.

"I got some water and drove us out to that first logging road off 29, and I just sat there and prayed you'd keep breathing. You were breathing so slowly—I should have taken you to the hospital, but I didn't want you arrested for underage drinking. When you woke up, you started vomiting so we sat out in the woods for a while, and we went back and forth all night.

"In the morning, I brought you home when I knew Dad would already be gone for his shift and Mom would be at breakfast. I cleaned you up and put you to bed, but the myoclonics started as soon as you lay down, and the seizure came soon after.

"Goddammit, Edward! You scared the hell out of me! You were so fucking confused you didn't even know it was me half the time! If you had stopped breathing out there, there would have been nothing I could have done. I didn't even think about it at the time, but I risked your life—you could have died!"

As Emmett gets everything off his chest, mine just feels heavier and heavier.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit!

I look Emmett in the eye, and I can't tell if he wants to hug me or punch me. I've never seen him look so … scared.

"Jesus, Em! I'm so fucking sorry! I never meant—"

"What the hell did Lauren do to set you off like that—make you want to drink so much? I know she was talkin' shit about Bella …"

My heart sinks because I just don't have the energy to get angry again. I have to swallow hard before I can get the words to come out.

"Rosalie didn't give your note to Bella; she gave it to Lauren. Lauren is the one who told Bella I lied to her."

"Motherfucker! Rosalie never said anything about Lauren! She protected her—"

"Because they're friends, and Lauren thought if Bella was out of the way, she'd have a chance with me."

"Goddamn these motherfucking girls! They're so … evil! Guys don't do crafty, manipulative shit like this—"

I raise an eyebrow at him, thinking back on all the lies I've told.

"Well, most of the time, and not unless we have to! If I could dump Rosalie again, I would! I'd like to punch her right in the—"

"Yeah, I believe that's where you interrupted me with Lauren on Friday night," I say, smiling at him grimly.

"Okay, now that part makes sense. Then what the fuck happened? You ran out, and it took me forever to find you guys in the woods."

I close my eyes, and an echo of the anger and rage I was feeling surges through me. And the words tumble out of my mouth with no filter at all.

"I was so fucking angry! Lauren ruined everything, and if she hadn't done that—fuck! I might still be with Bella. It hurt so fucking bad! I just wanted to forget all of it—put an end to it. I'm so tired of hurting all the time! I ran and I ended up near where the guys usually drink, and I just … I drank until I couldn't feel anything anymore. And even then, it didn't feel like enough."

"Son of a bitch, Edward! Were you actually trying to—"

"No! No, I wasn't trying to, but it might not have been so bad if it happened," I admit, owning up to what I was feeling then and what I've felt off and on since Bella and I broke up.

Emmett goes very still, staring at my comforter for a full minute before lifting blazing eyes to mine. His words, however, are calm and quiet.

"I don't want to ever hear you say that again. Do you understand me?"

I look at him, and I have no idea how to answer. I can never say it again, but that doesn't mean I won't be thinking it. I close my eyes and feel tears overflow the lids, and I can't open them again because I'm afraid of what I'll see on Emmett's face. His hand closes over mine.

"I'm worried about you, man. Really fucking worried. Maybe … maybe it would be better if everyone knew your secret. If you just stopped lying and actually told people the truth when it happens—that would show Bella she's more important than everyone not knowing you have epilepsy … right?"

"I can't … do that, Emmett."

"Why not? Would it really be worse than things are now?"

Memories of when I was first diagnosed come flooding back, and with them, the crystal clear memory of the first lie I ever told regarding my condition. A lie I still haven't come clean about. Maybe it's time. Maybe telling someone the truth about something will lift a little of this weight crushing my chest.

"Yes, I think it would. Do you remember when I was first diagnosed? Dad handled it pretty well because he's used to this kind of shit, but you and Mom? You tiptoed around me like I was gonna explode."

"No, we didn't—"

"Yes, you did. I saw it in your eyes every time you both looked at me. You were afraid. Afraid that you wouldn't know what to do, afraid of what could happen, afraid of me. I … I couldn't handle it. I know you couldn't help it but it made me feel like a freak and … and that's when the panic attacks started. I told Mom and Dad I was afraid of having more seizures, but … that wasn't all of it. That wasn't even most of it. It was the way you guys looked at me. It was like I could feel the charge in the air—everyone on alert for the next time I would fall down twitching. It was suffocating. It stole the air right out of my chest and made me gasp to get it back. I just … suffered through it until you guys stopped looking at me that way."

I know I've said way more than I should, but once I started, I just couldn't stop. It feels … good to get something off my chest, to lay down a weight I've been carrying for so long.

I look up at Emmett, and he's staring at me, his eyes glassy and wet. He's hurting and I know I've caused it, and suddenly, I feel like shit because I haven't really laid down this burden. I've given it to him.

"I'm sorry—"

"No! Goddammit, Edward, you will not be sorry for anything! I'm the one who's sorry—fuck! I didn't know—"

"I didn't want you to know—Mom either—because there's nothing you could do about it, and I knew that. We all just needed time to adjust—"

"What? So Mom and I were adjusting and you were having panic attacks because we were making you feel like a freak? While you were dealing with your own fear of the seizures and everything else? Why the hell didn't you tell us? We could have done something—"

"You were already doing enough, and I was … I didn't know what to do, so I just kept it to myself. That was the first lie I ever told in all of this."

A tear slips down Emmett's cheek, and I break a little more—I haven't seen Emmett cry since we were little.

"I'm sorry."

"God, Edward, please don't be sorry. I'm sorry! And I'm so fucking angry, sometimes I don't know how I'm gonna keep it inside anymore. I feel so helpless! Like I'm on the fucking sidelines, and you're out there with the ball and no defensive line, getting sacked over and over. And all I can do is fucking watch. I can't protect you like a big brother should. Not from this."

"You do protect me. You always have. I didn't realize just how much until the day I did this" — I raise my casted hand — "and you told me why you always cover for me. I never saw it that way, and I was an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," Emmett says, sniffling. "God, what a fucking mess!"

And that brings my thoughts back to the reason for my confession. "But now you see why I can't tell everyone. The whole school will look at me like I'm ticking … all the time. Some will be scared, but most will be morbidly curious to see it happen, and … and everyone will look at me like I'm—like I'm less than human, just the way it was before—"

Emmett squeezes my forearm, I realize that I'm breathing fast, and my head is starting to spin.

"Edward. You're okay. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly." I close my eyes because it helps to settle my stomach, and I focus on breathing for a few minutes.

"Okay, so telling everyone isn't the right answer, but there's got to be one. You still love her, and she still loves you—"

"I don't think so, Em," I say as my throat gets tight. "She hasn't looked at me in weeks, and I … I fucking let Lauren help me at school. I had no idea she was the one who gave Bella the note, but I'm sure Bella thinks I did it on purpose to hurt her—"

Emmett sighs heavily and shakes his head. "Girls. They're so damn complicated and … devious and — If they weren't the only way to get pussy, would we really even need them?"

I'm pretty sure he's joking, but then again, Emmett likes things simple. But I know I still need Bella, and it has absolutely nothing to do with her spectacular pussy.

"Why don't you go back to sleep for a while? You look exhausted," Em says, fist-bumping my knee. "We can talk more when you're not—"

"Fighting the hangover from hell?"

"Something like that. Just … promise you'll talk to me next time before you go off and do something so totally stupid?"

"I promise," I say, fighting my heavy eyelids.

"Good," Emmett responds, nodding as he leaves my room.

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The IV helps more than I thought it would and, although I sleep the day away, by suppertime I no longer feel like roadkill, and I'm actually hungry. But I feel … low. The pain of losing Bella was sudden and agonizing, but the dull ache that clings to me is worse. I hurt her again without realizing it. Why the fuck did I let Lauren anywhere near me after Bella broke up with me? I know why, and now it seems like the lamest fucking reason, but at the time … I just didn't care. I didn't care about anything—I was in so much pain, it was as if the world had stopped around me, and I just blindly did whatever I needed to, to get by. But the world didn't stop—only I did—and I hurt Bella even more by not fucking thinking about what I was doing.

And now I … I'm starting to realize she's really gone. She doesn't even look at me anymore, and I can't bear to look at her. How the hell do people date and break up and still see each other at school every day? Because it's killing me. The weight of loss on my chest makes it hard to move while the guilt of what I did to her still steals my breath.

I hate who I am. I hate all the lies, and I hate the things I've done to protect myself, the people I've wronged. I've lied so many times I don't even know what the truth is anymore.

What the fuck is the truth anyway?

The truth is I'm a goddamn coward—too afraid to face the boy in the mirror. The boy with epilepsy.

Shame prickles at my skin the way it used to long ago when I was still trying to figure out what I did to deserve this.

What I did to deserve being forced to give up the only thing I was good at or ever really cared about—basketball.

What I did to deserve becoming a freak.

It took a long time until Mom and Emmett didn't walk on eggshells around me. They kept my secret for me, allowed me time, but it didn't take me long to realize that I couldn't go through with everyone I knew what I went through with them, just like I confessed to Emmett. After all I'd lost and how radically everything had changed, I just couldn't become Forks High's resident pariah too.

So I convinced them to perpetuate the lie. I took the heat from my coaches and the guys over basketball, even though it tore me up inside. I pushed Jasper away and deprived my dick and my heart of everything except the occasional meaningless release. And I told as many lies as I needed to—anything and everything to keep myself out of the spotlight.

And then I went a step further, and I became a bully. I was so obsessed with keeping myself in the dark that I started shining a light on others, the light of shame. The light I never wanted shone on myself, and that made guys like Mike like me. Bella laid bare the guilt I had buried for so long, and I know I can't go back to that, so … who am I now?

The truth is I don't want to be anybody if I can't be who I was with Bella. And I can't be that person without her. I just feel so … trapped. I can't tell everyone the truth because I'll have a fucking mental breakdown, but I can't think of any other way of proving to Bella that I love her.

Have you ever done anything for anyone other than yourself, Edward?

And would telling everyone really prove anything to her? I would be doing it for her, but I don't know if she'd see it that way, or if it would even matter to her now.

And it's in this state of mind that Alice finds me on Wednesday after school. I've trudged through the week, avoiding Mike and his black eye and warning Lauren away with my glare, but other than that, I couldn't tell you what I did. Every day is the same without the brown eyes and quirky little smile that I never realized made them worth living until she was gone.

I'm late, shoving my shit into my bag when the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on end.

"I've waited for this. It's taken weeks, but I've finally gotten you alone. I want you to meet a friend of mine. Yeah, Ivan is all ready to cut your balls off so I can put them in a jar and give them to Bella."

I lean my head against my locker because I'm just too weary to have another pointless conversation today.

"You can have my balls, Alice. Without Bella, I have no use for them anyway."

"What?"

I turn around, and Gothzilla does in fact have a switchblade that she's pointing at me, but she looks thoroughly confused.

"I said you can have my balls. And when you're cutting, can you hit a major artery for me, if it wouldn't be too much trouble? Maybe I'll get lucky and bleed to death too."

Goth girl squints at me. "This conversation isn't going at all the way I thought it would."

"Let me guess. You thought I'd make some smartass remark about how my balls are way too good for you, throw in a few other insults, then take your knife?"

"Well, you'd never get Ivan, but something like that, yeah."

I just sigh and close my eyes. When I open them again, the pixie looks annoyed.

"What the fuck, Edward? You pretended to like Bella for the sake of your balls, but now you're willing to let me cut them off? What about your next conquest?"

I'm so tired of lying, and I just don't have the energy to pretend to be who I was before.

"There are … no conquests, Alice. I didn't pretend to like Bella—I'm in love with her—and I didn't do anything just so I could sleep with her. It wasn't even about that. Making love to her was the most amazing thing I've ever done."

Alice's eyes are so wide I swear they extend out past the edges of her little face, and I think she's choking on her tongue.

"Why don't you sit down before you fall down. I'll join you," I tell her, grasping her elbow, and she plops down on the floor so we're both sitting with our backs against the lockers.

"But Bella said—"

"I don't care what she said; her breaking up with me had nothing to do with sex. She dumped me because … because I lied to her."

I close my eyes, but I force myself to keep going. I learned from my last talk with Emmett that telling the truth makes me feel better, even if it's just for a little while, and right now, I'd do anything to ease the weight pressing down on me.

"I lie … a lot. But it's not because I want to; it's because I have to. Bella saw something she wasn't supposed to see, and … I … pretended to like her so she wouldn't tell anyone. But now I know she never would have told anyone because she's not like that, and I only pretended to like her at the very beginning. Once I got to know her, I realized that I really did like her—I fell in love with her. But I was so afraid of losing her that I never told her how it all started. I thought she would never find out, and everything would be okay."

"What happened?" I open my eyes, and Alice's gaze holds no reproach. Her hand is also resting on my arm.

"My brother wrote a note to his girlfriend Rosalie about it, and Rosalie kept that note and gave it to Lauren. And I guess … Lauren told Bella."

The Gothlet's eyes narrow to slits, and I can almost see the red-eyed hamster of evil running on the wheel in her mind.

"Oh, that girl has had it coming from me for so long, and now she's gonna get it," Alice murmurs, clutching Ivan-the-knife tighter. "I told her to leave the two of you alone, but she just couldn't, could she?"

I manage half a smile, but a pound of flesh from Lauren, while satisfying, won't fix anything.

"I didn't know Lauren was involved until the dance this past Friday night," I admit, although it hurts to do so. "I think I might have hurt Bella even more by letting Lauren help me because of my hand, but … I guess it doesn't matter now."

"Why wouldn't it matter?"

"Bella doesn't care about me anymore, so …"

"Edward, where did you get the idea that Bella doesn't care about you anymore?" Alice asks, her grip on my arm tightening.

"Well, she didn't believe me when I told her I loved her, and she won't even look at me anymore—"

"She looks at you constantly, just not when you're looking," Alice mutters, and my eyebrows rise in disbelief. "Do you love her?"

"More than anything. And I would do anything to get her to believe me."

Alice clasps her hands together and squeals. "I knew there was more to this than Bella said! And I'm glad you're not the complete asshole I thought you were."

"Um … thanks?"

"Okay. So. What did Bella see that she wasn't supposed to?"

Heat creeps up my neck and chest, and I can feel it spreading across my cheeks. This is the closest I've ever come to telling anyone my secret. My heart starts to thunder in my chest—I wonder if Alice can hear it?

"Edward? Are you okay?"

"I … I can't tell you," I rasp out over painful breaths. "I can't tell anyone. Bella found out by accident."

"Okay," Alice says, rubbing my arm. "I don't think that's the important part anyway."

Oh, God, if she only knew.

"The important part is convincing Bella that you made a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes, but if you truly love each other, you should be able to see past those mistakes, right?"

"Right," I answer, not at all sure how we're gonna do that, but I'm totally on the "getting Bella to see past my mistakes" train.

"So you started seeing her for the wrong reason, but it turned into love, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, I can work with this. Just give me a little time," Alice says, starting to get up off the floor.

"Wait! What do you mean?" I ask as I scramble up beside her.

"I don't know yet. I'll figure something out. Thank you for telling me the truth, Edward. I don't know how, but everything's gonna be okay!"

She bounds upward and kisses my cheek, then skips away like some coked-out cupid. I don't know what just happened, but maybe it'll turn out to be good. Things can't get any worse, right?

A/N: What the hell is The Gothlet going to do?! See you on April 18!