ELSA'S POV

October

November

December

January

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

Agnarr's fist came down on the table. "That's it, Elsa! I'm sending you home."

I looked up from my cereal, which had gone soggy, and stared at Agnarr in shock. I hadn't been particularly invested in the conversation—I had a lot on my mind—and I wasn't sure what he meant.

"I am home," I replied, confused.

"I'm sending you to Iduna, to Jacksonville," he clarified.

Agnarr watched with exasperation as I slowly grasped the meaning of his words.

"Wait, why? What did I do?" I felt my face crumple. I was thoroughly confused. I had been the same as always, if not a little glum. The first week had been the hardest, but I figured that was normal post-breakup. After that awful week, I made a concentrated effort to go back to life as I had known it—as best as I could—I hadn't missed a day of school or work. My grades were perfect. I never broke curfew. I couldn't understand his reasoning.

Agnarr was scowling.

"You didn't do anything. That's the problem. You never do anything."

"You want me to get into trouble?" I wondered, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

"Trouble would be better than this… this moping around all the time!"

That stung a bit. I would admit to a general sense of gloom, sure, but not moping.

Okay, I have not been moping around."

"Wrong word," he grudgingly conceded. "Moping would be better—that be doing something. You're just… lifeless, Elsa. I think that's the word I want."

This might be moderately accurate. I sighed, I couldn't argue.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"I don't want you to apologize."

"I've been trying, Dad. I know I'm not exactly… exuberant. I don't know why I'm so…" I couldn't find the word, so I just shrugged.

Agnarr's expression softened and he sighed. "I know, Elsa, I know." He put a hand on my shoulder. "When your mother left," he began, frowning, "and took you with her." He inhaled deeply. "Well, that was a really bad time for me."

"I know, Dad."

"I just…" he sighed again, "I know it was your first relationship and that's not something you just get over, but it's been months."

"Am I that bad?" I could hear the disappointment in my own voice.

He looked at me a moment, and sighed. "You're not that bad. But maybe with your mother—"

"I can go out," I objected. "I can call Jeremy or Angela."

"Why haven't you gone out before now?" Agnarr pressed.

This was a touchy subject. I had realized not long after that first week that readjusting to life as it had been would be more difficult than I thought. It had dawned on me that I hadn't spent very much time with Jeremy or Angela, or any of my friends for that matter. I had tried to justify it—Jeremy and Makayla hardly talked to any of us when they had been together—it was just something that happened when you were in a relationship… right? My lack of interaction had made things awkward with everyone. It didn't help that they all treated me like I was going to fall apart on them at any moment. It had created a horrible tension that didn't make me feel any better and I hadn't responded as well as I could have.

"I just want you to be happy, Elsa." Agnarr finally said. "I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."

My eyes flashed up to meet his.

"Dad, I'm not leaving." I said.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"This is my home, Dad. I don't want to leave Forks—or you." I paused. "Besides, I'm not going to let her drive me away." I muttered.

"Elsa…" Agnarr began, his voice soft.

"I'm not staying because I'm waiting for anything. I don't expect anything." I said, an edge of anger in my tone. "But she doesn't get to do what she did and make me leave Forks. She doesn't get to have that." I said, more to myself than to Agnarr.

Agnarr only stared at me, sadly. He could understand, to a point. After all, the divorce had hurt him pretty deeply. I knew he didn't want me to go; he just wanted what was best for me. Maybe—for him—the memories he and my mom had made in Forks had been a complication, a roadblock, in his healing process. I wouldn't let that happen to me. I wasn't going to let the memories drive me away.

"I have to get to school, Dad," I said quietly, standing up and taking my bowl the sink. "I'll make plans with Jeremy," I said as I quickly rinsed out the bowl. "Maybe we'll go to Port Angeles and catch a movie or something."

He only nodded.

I grabbed my phone and my school bag and headed out the door.

It was cold, but it wasn't raining. I didn't mind the rain anymore; in fact, I had come to enjoy it. Rain was good. The rain washed everything away. A fresh, clean start. Maybe I did need to make more of an effort to move on. It had been four months, it was a new year. I wasn't going to let one bad breakup define me. I wasn't the first person to have their heart broken—I wasn't the first person to invest too much in a relationship. I wouldn't be the one person who fell apart because of it.

In the past four months I had come to understand what all the problems had been. It had been one hell of a relationship but I had put everything into it, like a kindling in a fire. It had burned too hot, too fast, and too quickly. It couldn't sustain itself. What didn't help was that I was promised it would last. I believed it would last. These were lies. It didn't help that I didn't get closure; I didn't get a choice in the matter. But I wouldn't cry anymore, I wouldn't waste any more time feeling sad or sorry for myself. I wouldn't waste a single tear, or thought, on Anna Cullen.

I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had driven to school on auto-pilot. The lot as already full by the time I got there, and I rushed to English. We were working on Animal Farm, and it was a welcome change from the romances that made up most of the curriculum. I settled into my seat, ready for the distraction of Mr. Berty's lecture.

The bell rang all too soon. I started repacking my bag.

"Elsa?"

I recognized Makayla's voice, and I knew what her next words would be before she said them.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

I looked up. She was leaning across the aisle with an anxious expression. Every Friday she asked me the same question. This was one of the things that had driven a wedge between me and my friends. I hadn't taken so much as a sick day, save for that first week, and yet she still looked at me with such concern. I imagined my panic attack in the woods hadn't helped anyone's perception of how I had handled the breakup. It had hurt me deeply, of course, but not enough to leave me a catatonic mess.You try getting lost in the middle of the woods at night and see how you feel, I wanted to yell at everyone.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" I said wearily.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed. "See you in Spanish." She waved once before turning her back. She didn't bother walking me to class anymore.

I walked grimly to Calculus. This was the class where I sat next to Jeremy.

It had been weeks since Jeremy and I had spoken. I knew I had hurt his feelings with my antisocial behavior. The tension following that awful week had been unbearable. I had tried to justify my ensuing coldness by saying that the way they were treating me was detrimental to me moving past everything. But I couldn't lie to myself; I had been kind of a jerk to Jeremy and he didn't deserve it. A fresh, clean start, I told myself.

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Mr. Varner gave me a dark look—he'd already started the lecture. I hurried to my seat. Jeremy didn't look up as I sat next to him. I was glad I had fifty minutes to figure out how to apologize.

This class flew by even faster than English, I grimaced when Mr. Varner dismissed the class five minutes early.

"Jeremy?" I said, hesitantly, waiting for his reaction.

He twisted in his seat to face me, eyeing me incredulously. "Are you talking to me, Elsa Winters?"

I shouldn't have been surprised by his reaction to me, but it still stung a little.

"Yeah, I am. Hey." I said, awkwardly.

he continued to stare.

"Jeremy, I'm really sorry," I sighed, "It's been a rough few months—especially at first—and I've never dealt with anything like this before—and I know that's totally not an excuse or anything and you have every right to be mad at me—" I sighed again, "I'm sorry I've been a jerk."

He stared at me for a long moment. I was starting to think that he was going to just pick up his things and walk away. But suddenly he threw his arms around me and squeezed me tight.

"Like you couldn't just talk to me about it, you idiot." He sighed, "I've kind of got some experience in the breakup department."

I laughed, and it felt nice to laugh again. "I know, I know."

"So you're back?" He pulled away from the hug and looked me in the eyes, "For real?"

"I think so."

He squealed excitedly.

"So," I began, "since I'm back… do you want to go to the movies or something? I think I could use a night out—like old times."

"Of course," he grinned, then his face got serious, "but you're paying for my ticket, jerk."

I laughed again, "Okay, deal."

"What do you want to see?"

"I'm really not sure what's playing," I racked my brain for a clue—hadn't I heard someone talk about a movie recently? Seen a poster? "How about that one with the lady who gets lost in space?"

He looked at me oddly. "Elsa, that one's been out of the theater forever."

"Oh." I frowned. "Umm… is there anything you'd like to see?"

Jeremy's natural bubbliness started to leak out as he thought out loud. "Well, there's that new romantic comedy that's getting great reviews. I want to see that one. And my dad just saw Dead End and he really liked it."

I was glad too. I was doing better than I thought I would. I wondered why it had taken me so long to just start living again. The rest of the day was a blur. I was greeted warmly at lunch by my friends—Jeremy had obviously informed them of my return to the land of the living—and I was grateful for their understanding. Isolating myself obviously wasn't the way to deal with this. Choosing to move on was hard, but it was what I needed to do.

Giving up is easy, trying is harder. It would be my new mantra, the thing that kept me going. I wouldn't lie to myself—or anyone else—I was still sad, and I still hurt. But I was going to be okay, I promised myself that.

When I got home, I hurried upstairs to change. I decided to wear a long-ignored red sweater—I had been wearing a lot of dark blue the last year. I was just pulling it over my head when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I'm here! –Jeremy

I grabbed my wallet and ran down the stairs, I glanced at myself in the hall mirror before I opened the door, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that I looked happy.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," I told Jeremy as I climbed into the passenger seat.

"Of course! So, what brought this on?" Jeremy wondered as he drove down my street.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you suddenly decide to talk to everyone again? Go out?"

I pondered for a moment, "I guess I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I needed to start over and pick my life back up." I paused. "That's sounds so totally melodramatic and cheesy."

He giggled, "Kind of. But I get it," he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, "I probably should, huh?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to." He said gently. "You guys were pretty serious, so I totally get that it's hard to talk about."

I didn't want to sour the night with sad thoughts, but I did have something I wanted to get off my chest. "The worst part is the memories."

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"They start fading." I said quietly. "I mean, part of me wants to forget her entirely for what she did—for hurting me like that. I almost feel like I'd be totally fine if I just let her go… but then, I don't want to forget her. When it was good it was… good, you know?"

He nodded thoughtfully.

"Some days," I continued, "I just sit and try to remember any little detail I can. Her face, her voice…" I sighed, "but it's getting harder and harder."

"You don't have any pictures?"

"No." I hesitated. "I got rid of them all." I added quickly.

"Oh, yeah, I threw out everything Makayla gave me after we broke up." He said, rolling his eyes.

"What is going on with you and Makayla these days?" I asked, ready for a new subject.

"Ugh, don't get me started." He huffed.

"Have you been out with anyone else lately?" I asked.

"Not really. I go out with Conner sometimes. I went out with Tyler two weeks ago." He rolled his eyes again, and I sensed a long story.

"Tyler? Who asked who?"

He groaned, getting more animated. "He asked me, I swear I thought Logan was going to claw my eyes out."But I was curious about my sexuality you know?

"Where did he take you? Tell me all about it."

He launched into his tale, and I settled into my seat, eager to hear about someone else's relationship drama. When he was finished with his Tyler story, he continued into a Conner comparison without any prodding.

The movie was playing early, so Jeremy thought we should hit the twilight showing and eat later. I was fine with whatever he wanted; after all, I was having fun.

We chatted through the previews, but then I started to second guess my choice. My nerves really started with the movie. A young couple was walking along a beach while suspenseful music played in the background. I felt the goosebumps starting already.

How scary did your dad say this movie was?" I whispered to Jeremy.

"Really scary."

"I think I'm going to get some popcorn. Do you want any?"

"I swear, if you leave me in this movie all by myself I will throw you in the popcorn machine."

"I'll be right back."

Someone shushed us from behind.

I hurried out to the concession counter, dreading going back. I was definitely not brave enough for a horror movie. Sadistic vampires, sure, but not zombies. I slowly crept back into the theatre. I was barely back to my seat when a zombie stumbled out of a bush on the screen. The heroine screamed and I nearly tripped I jumped so hard. Jeremy caught me as I fell into my seat, narrowly avoiding spilling the popcorn.

"This is terrifying!" He hissed at me.

I gripped the popcorn bucket tightly, unable to actually eat any of it. Jeremy took big handfuls.

The movie continued on with gruesome zombie attacks and endless screaming from the handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly. I jumped at every little thing. Something else about the movie was making me uneasy though, and I wasn't sure why at first.

It wasn't until almost the very end, as I watched a haggard zombie shambling after the last survivor, that I realized what the problem was. The scene kept cutting between the horrified face of the hero, and the dead, emotionless face of his pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance.

And I realized something disturbing.

I tried very hard not to think of the irony. But it was ironic, all things considered, that, in the end, I would wind up as a zombie. I hadn't seen that one coming.

Not that I hadn't considered becoming a mythical monster once—just never a grotesque, animated corpse. I quickly removed that thought from my head. I didn't want to think about it.

It was depressing to realize what she had done to me. That she had left me a shell of myself. I wasn't a zombie anymore, I was moving on. But the fact that she had so much power over me continued to disturb me. It upset me deeply—no, it made me furious.

The movie finally ended and Jeremy let out a deep sigh of relief.

"That was the scariest movie I've ever seen."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Maybe not my best decision."

"I'll bet we're going to have nightmares tonight." He pouted.

"No doubt about that," I sighed. Nightmares I was used to at this point, but they weren't about zombies. His eyes flashed to my face, curiously. Maybe my tone was more morose than I had meant.

"Where do you want to eat?" Jeremy asked.

"Something greasy and bad for me," I said, "I want to get fat."

He laughed, "Okay."

Jeremy started talking about the female lead in the movie as we walked. I nodded as he gushed over her hotness, I mentioned her shirtless scene and we both started giggling like idiots.

Jeremy suddenly got very quiet, and I realized it was darker. I looked at him, confused. He wasn't looking at me. His face was tense; he stared straight ahead and walked fast. As I watched, his eyes darted quickly to the right, across the road, and back again.

I glanced around us, trying to figure out what was wrong.

We were on a short stretch of unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the streets were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the streetlight started up again, and I could see, farther down, the bright golden arches of the McDonald's he was heading for.

Across the street there was one open business. The windows were covered from the inside and there were neon signs, advertisements for different brands of beer, glowing in front of them. The biggest sign, in brilliant green, was the name of the bar—One-Eyed Pete's. I wondered if there was some pirate theme not visible from the outside. The metal door was propped open; it was dimly lit inside, and the low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the door were four men.

I glanced back at Jeremy. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead and he moved briskly. He didn't look frightened—just wary, trying to not attract attention to hisself.

I paused without thinking, looking back at the four men with a strong sense of déjà vu. This was a different road, a different night, but the scene was so much the same. One of them was even short and dark. As I stopped and glanced at them, that one looked up at us.

I stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk.

"Elsa?" Jeremy whispered. "What are you doing?"

I shook my head, not sure myself. "I don't know… I just…" I trailed off.

What was I doing? This was definitely a memory I wanted to forget.

"Let's go," I said quickly started to walk away.

"Hey, missy."

Jeremy and I both turned at the sound of the voice. One of the men against the wall was eyeing me, grinning drunkenly.

"That your girlfriend , punk?" she needs a real man He slurred, taking a shaky step toward us. His buddies snickered.

"Y-yes." He answered, his voice trembling.

"Why don't you come over here, sugar, I'll show you what it's like to be with a real man." He flexed, unimpressively. His buddies guffawed.

"Leave us alone." My voice was loud and strong. It surprised me. Jeremy looked up at me with wide eyes.

"Buzz off," the short drunk spat, "I'm talking to the punk."

I took a step toward him. "I said, leave us alone." My voice was angry now. I wasn't sure what had come over me. Maybe it was the memory of that night, almost a year ago. Maybe it was because these men looked so much like the ones who had threatened me. I was lucky that night, but what if it had been Jeremy lost in Port Angeles? What if these were the same men and what I they decided to start something? They outnumbered us and it was dark. It definitely wasn't a good situation.

"Elsa, let's go." Jeremy's voice cracked in panicked.

"Yeah, run off, little girl." The short drunk snorted, "Run home to mommy."

Without meaning to, I took several steps forward, squaring my shoulders. My jaw set. I didn't understand why, but I felt the need to prove something. Prove that I could defend myself and my friend. That I didn't need someone to drive up and rescue me. I felt a surge of adrenaline rush through me. It was exhilarating. I felt invigorated.

No, I felt alive.

I was halfway across the street when Jeremy caught up to me and grabbed my arm.

"Elsa, please, don't be reckless." He hissed.

Something about his words stopped me. Reminded me of a promise I had made. A promise not to do anything dangerous or reckless. That promise lingered in my mind. I did promise, but what did I owe her?

"You want to mess, kid?" The short drunk smirked, rubbing his knuckles.

I didn't owe her anything. She wasn't here, she couldn't stop me. I took a defiant step forward.

"Elsa, stop this right now!"

My muscles locked into place, froze me where I stood. Because it wasn't Jeremy's voice that rebuked me now. It was a furious voice, a familiar voice, a beautiful voice—soft like velvet even though it was irate.

It was her voice.

It was like a slap to the face, my testosterone-fueled adrenaline rush subsided. I was more aware of the situation, of the danger.

I looked around myself in shock.

"Go back to Jeremy," the lovely voice ordered, still angry. "You promised—nothing reckless."

I was alone. Jeremy stood a few feet from me, staring at me with frightened eyes. By the wall, the strangers watched, tense, wondering if I was going to start a fight.

I shook my head, trying to understand. I knew she wasn't there, and yet, she felt improbably close, close for the first time since… since the end. The anger in her voice was concern, the same anger that was once very familiar—something I hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime.

"Keep your promise." The voice was slipping away, as if the volume was being turned down on a radio.

I began to suspect that I was having some kind of hallucination. Triggered, no doubt, by the memory—the déjà vu, the strange familiarity of the situation.

I ran through the possibilities quickly in my head.

Maybe I was losing it. Months of self-induced solitude had caused me to conjure up voices in my head. That was possible.

Or, my subconscious mind was dredging up the memory of her voice that I was so afraid of losing. My mind was throwing me a bone, so to speak, keeping my memory fresh and talking to me in a voice that it knew I would listen to. We all have a small voice in our head that tells us not to do stupid things, right? Why shouldn't it be a voice we wanted to hear?

I didn't want to think of her, I had tried so hard not to think of her the last few months. I didn't want to think of what I lost or what could have been; that hurt too much. But maybe, just maybe, I could remember her without hurting.

"Guess she's scared."

The laughing sneer of the short man brought me out of my reverie.

Instinctively, I took an angry step forward, narrowing my eyes.

"Elsa, turn around," the voice growled.

I sighed. This is foolish. This wasn't healthy. I glared at the men, only the short one looked like he wanted to fight. The others were still leaning against the wall, looking anxious.

"Well?" the short one called.

The voice in my head answered with a snarl, and I smirked.

"Not worth my time," I shrugged at him.

I turned back to Jeremy, whose face was somewhere between terror and awe. I offered him my arm. "Let's go eat," I said.

I felt smug, strong, and confident as we walked down the sidewalk. I didn't need to be saved. I could stand up for myself.

"What were you thinking?" Jeremy snapped. "They could have killed you!"

I shrugged, "Only the short one wanted to fight. I think I could have handled it. Besides, I didn't like the way he was talking to us. That wasn't okay."

He rolled his eyes, but he was fighting a grin. "You are so odd, Elsa winters."

"Sorry." I shrugged, smiling.

We ate in silence for a moment, and then he finally spoke. "You looked so tough out there." He gushed. "I was impressed."

I snorted, "Believe me, no one has ever called me tough."

"No, you did! If you were fully into guys I'd be all over you right now." He teased and we both had a good laugh.

When we got back to the car, he tuned the stereo to his favorite station and continued to gush about how tough I was and how grateful he was that I had stood up for us. I tried to listen but my mind was distracted now. I kept going back to her voice. I should probably be concerned that I was hearing it, but I realized that I felt relief.

As much as I struggled not to think of her, I did not struggle to forget. I worried that it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of her eyes, the feel of her cool skin, or the sound of her voice. I didn't want to think of them, but I wanted to remember them.

She had taken everything with her when she left, but I needed to know that she had existed. That she had been real.

I was surprised when Jeremy stopped the car in front of my house, I had been so deep in thought.

"Thanks for going out with me, Jeremy," I said as I opened my door. "That was fun."

"Of course, Elsa." He smiled.

"I really am sorry if I scared you."

"No, thank you for standing up for us." He smiled. "I'm going to tell everyone what a badass Elsa winters turned into."

I chuckled, "Deal. See you Monday?"

"See you Monday."

"Text me, or something!" I smiled as I shut the door. He waved as he drove away.

Agnarr was waiting for me in the middle of the hall, his arms folded tight over his chest with his hands balled into fists.

"Hey, Dad," I said surprised to see him standing there, "what's wrong?"

"Where have you been?" Agnarr demanded.

I looked at him, surprised. "I went to a movie in Port Angeles with Jeremy. Like I told you this morning."

"Humph," he grunted.

"Is… that okay?"

He studied my face, his eyes widening as if he saw something unexpected. "Yeah, of course. That's fine. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I did," I smiled. "We saw a zombie movie, ate some greasy food."

"Well," he raised an eyebrow, "Good."

"Night, Dad."

"Night, Elsa" He let me pass. I hurried up the stairs.

I took a long, warm shower. Then readied myself for bed. I felt the evening catching up with me. It had been a long day and so much had happened. I sat on the edge of my bed, pondering to myself. I realized I was standing on the edge of something—something important. This evening had been a rainstorm, washing away the last four months—washing away the last year. I wouldn't be sad anymore, I wouldn't wallow, I wouldn't just go through the motions. I would remember, yes, but that's all I would do. Most importantly, I would move on.

I had been asleep and whatever it was that had happened tonight—and whether it was the zombies, the adrenaline, or the hallucinations that were responsible—it had woken me up. I felt alive.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to expect in the morning.