The hallway is eerily silent.
I have no idea what time it is, nor do I care.
I don't even know if I should be here. It's too quiet to be visiting hours. With that in mind, I sneak around, listening out, hoping for a sign that I'm on the right track.
Every door is the same, the signs on the wall vague when you don't know what room you're looking for.
Thankfully, a few have windows, and I sneak glances before moving on to the next.
And then I see him, through the window of his room; covering my mouth with my hand, I try to muffle the gasp that escapes, tears leaking without my consent, pain like I've never experienced.
I notice Esme, but can't focus on her for long, her upper body over the bed, fast asleep. I only have eyes for Edward.
He looks so pale, so troubled even in sleep. His hair is flat, sticking to his forehead, damp and dirty; his cheeks look more hollow than usual, his skin almost grey; the thin hospital blanket covering most of his body, his chest rising and falling slowly in time to the beat of monitors that surround him.
He may be sedated, but he looks far from peaceful and it kills me, a deep rippling pain, crippling and rendering me immobile.
Hearing footsteps in the hallway, I quickly enter the room, the eerie silence.
My feet move of their own accord, carrying me forward on instinct, my eyes never leaving his face.
I can taste the salt of my tears, feel every shake that rips through my body as my hand reaches out to touch his. He's cold, his skin dull.
"Oh, Edward," I sob quietly, my fingertips ghosting the soft hair of his arm.
The moon shines bright, casting half his face in shadows, making the contours of his face more dramatic. The heart rate monitor beeps a steady rhythm in time with my own.
I study his features; the small cuts that decorate his beautiful face, the bruises that litter his jaw and his left eye.
What I'd give to go back and change what happened, what led to this; to grab him tighter and stop him from leaving the house in a rage.
I should have been stronger.
He should have been weaker —gave in to me and my pleas.
So much we should have done differently, so much we need to change. All we need is one more chance —to clear the air and communicate, to come to an understanding. So many promises we need to make.
So much strength I need, to make him understand.
Or to leave.
Because we can't keep doing this to ourselves and each other.
The vicious circle needs to end, it needs to break —snap like a band.
This all-consuming pain, constant tears heavy on my skin, sorrow so deep and devastating that I feel as though I'm losing myself, giving him everything I have and hoping for the best whilst not trusting it's enough.
I need to know it's enough.
If it's not, it needs to end before we destroy each other.
This is the last straw. Make or break. Sink or swim.
