"Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?" ― Albert Camus

My head is killing me. The morning light coming through the openings of the curtained window fries my brain further. A million little pin-pricks against my skull.

I groan and move to grab a pillow to cover myself with.

I stop.

This is not my room.

Despite the pain, my eyes shoot open and I look around. My breath and heart rate pick up considerably. The room is cabin-like. Wood paneling and antique decor. I half expect a mounted elk head to be around here somewhere. There's a painting of a forest on the wall. It's unlike any room I've been in before.

Sam.

His name appears at the top of my mind. Oh god. He found me on the side of the road completely wasted, didn't he? Shame burns my cheeks and stomach. I feel sick. I might need a bathroom.

I move my hand around on the bed. It's really soft. The pillows are better than what I have. I see a feather sticking out from one of them. I pull it through the fabric and turn it around in my fingers, over and over again. The bristles feel so silky against my skin. Something, something I'm not thinking of….

"This is dangerous," Edward's honeyed voice cuts through. "You need to get out of here now."

I nod.

My legs move to the side and I push myself up. Instantly, I can feel myself wobble and bile rise to my throat. I groan in pain and with a hand to my forehead, walk out.

Even the hallways here are decorated in a wilderness theme. It's surprisingly homely, but I've got no time to think about that.

My stumbling around in pain and confusion must be loud because I hear footsteps going up the stairs and I realize with a sigh who is about to join me.

Sam looks at me with a frown, "I expected you to sleep for longer."

I can't focus on him, or anything really, too closely. The edges of everything blur into each other. He must look at me funny when I squint at him like this. I try to keep my temper cool enough.

"Charlie," I make out. Wow, speaking was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Sam touches my arm apprehensively and helps me walk to the stairs, where I grab onto the railing. "Billy called him to say you got a flat and spent the night at his place."

His grip tightens as I move slowly down each step. I realize he's not going to let me fall so without conscious thought, I relax into his hold ever-so-slightly.

"Bella," Edward pleads in my ear. "He's not safe."

Oh, shove it, will you?

"So you told him!" I cry rather pathetically at Sam.

He purses his lips, "With as little details as possible."

A few more steps to go. I should probably not yell at the man while he's still helping me down. My head is only getting worse the longer each ray of light hits me in the eye.

"He's going to tell my dad!" I press on.

"Billy can keep a secret," Sam sighs.

I shake my head, "He gossips like a middle-aged soccer mom with my dad. I know what they say about Jacob and me."

Sam's fingers tighten around my arm.

"Ow!"

He relaxes immediately, "Sorry. But my point is, Billy is better at hiding things than you might expect. As long as your behavior doesn't worsen, he won't tell your dad."

I roll my eyes. Worsening behavior. Like I'm still in elementary school. The thought stirs up the memories of me in fourth grade kicking my feet on a desk while I wait for the parent-teacher conference to be over. Renee and Mrs. Zwiggler finally pushing through those doors with big smiles on their faces. Only Renee's expression looking glassed over, probably how mine does now.

"And my truck?" I change the subject and try to keep my voice light.

"I changed the tire with a spare Billy had. Good as new."

I let a breath out of my nose. I do really like my truck. The steering wheel is large which makes turning a lot less sharp and the gas pedal doesn't accelerate faster than it should. It may be beat-up and hopefully not on its last leg, but it functions better than a Volvo guaranteed to send me through the windshield if I wasn't vigilant about keeping my seat belt on. I give Edward's hallucination a brief mean stare for that.

We reach the front door. I pause with my hand on the knob.

"Well, thank you," I say. I don't quite meet his eyes. "I suppose I should leave now."

Sam shakes his head, "Uh uh. I don't believe you are anywhere near stable enough to drive. I'll take you home."

"What?" I falter. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Let's go."

I huff with frustration and fling his house door right open only to be met with a thousand more blinding rays of sunlight. Crap. Maybe he does have a point.

I look back up at him with my eyes half-open. "Come on. I've already got the key," he adds.

"How are you going to get back?" I ask as I feel around while walking until we reach the truck. I pull the handle and slide myself in.

He just shrugs as he joins me on the driver's side, "I'll just walk."

"Fifteen miles?"

"I've got time."

Sam starts the engine and drives my truck like he's been doing so for the past eight years. I almost huff in annoyance at that. Of course, he has to be better than me with this too. Really the only person with the touch of Midas for my truck should be Jake. Maybe all the rez boys are gifted, god.

But he's different from the others. I don't dare to ask why he has cropped hair or a tribal tattoo, it's not really any of my business. Just a persistent nagging feeling that he might feel better than everyone else. Or at least separate from the crowd.

He drives us in silence and I'm surprisingly not irked by the need to chatter awkwardly. Just like with Charlie, we aren't pressed to continue idle conversation. There may be things I want to ask Sam, namely once again the 'who the hell do you think you are' bit, but the sickness from being hungover prevents any real consideration of going down that route. I grip the door handle to steady myself each time we hit a bump. He looks over at me, probably to ensure I'm not about to throw up again.

The memories from last night are still hazy, but I remember puking somewhere. Ugh, super attractive, Bella.

I look up at him through my lashes when we reach the driveway. I wonder if he can tell the shame burning through my body.

"Thanks," I mumble, not really holding it together enough to keep looking at him. I open the truck door and attempt to slide out.

He grabs my wrist and tugs me back for a second, "Wait."

I'm made to look at Sam's chiseled face and feel inadequate in his presence once again. The light hits him just right and he glows like a bronzed statue. Even the way he looks at me makes me feel like he's from another world. Just like Edward once did.

"I want you to take my number in case you're in trouble again," he says. "It's a landline so texting won't work. But if you leave a message, I'll get back to you, I promise."

His eyes shine as he's telling me this. I can't help but believe he means the truth.

"Alright," I saw. I take the truck key with the piece of paper wrapped around it. He gets out of my truck and closes the door.

I walk up to my house wordlessly, but as I'm about to go inside with the urging of Edward's ghostly cues, I look back. Sam has started walking wherever himself, but he too turns back to look at me from over his shoulder. I shudder and go inside.

The shakes hit me hours later when I wake up again. I'm freezing like I once felt whenever I had any prolonged contact with Edward. This time it covers my whole body and I spasm through the hypothermia. Even my diaphragm shudders with every breath.

I moan and cough and pull the covers up to my chin.

"Look at what you've done," Fake Edward scolds.

There's no answer I can give him.

"You're dying."

"Hopefully," I respond.

I roll over to the side he's not on and pray he won't say anything else. He doesn't. Only sighs in the way a disappointed parent might. It's a damn good impression of how the Real Edward sounded. I would have done anything to earn his approval again.

I only grow colder and cough more.

Charlie knocks on my door after hours of me being like this. It jolts me awake as I can't comprehend what day or hour it is to know whether or not he should be at the station. I must sound pretty bad if he's checking on me. My mind works too slowly to formulate a good excuse.

"Bella?" he calls out.

"Yeah?" My voice is weak and hoarse. Have I been crying?

He opens my bedroom door and peaks in to look at me. I pull my covers up even higher and try to blink rapidly so he can't see if my eyes give anything away about my substance use. It's a dumb plan.

"Are you sick?" he asks.

I nod, maybe add a cough for good measure.

"Shoot," he mutters. "Suppose we can talk later then."

I nod once more as he closes the door slowly. The darkness seeps back in.

And I'm alone again. Struggling to keep my head above the water. The distorted murmurs of Edward Cullen continue to curse me down to hell.

Days later, I'm outside examining my truck. It's taken me a bit to admit it was careless to drive high and drunk through La Push. There could be a thousand tiny scratches I've caused.

The metal is cool on my hand. Winter is all around us now. For many moments I imagine my truck to be the temperature of vampire skin. My fingers glide back and forth as I remember brushing them against Edward's arms. He'd smile down at me like I was barely a fly landing on his flesh.

"You look tired," Charlie's voice wakes me up from my daydream.

I squint my eyes at him, "Yeah. Guess so."

He sighs deeply and brings a hand to the back of his head. Uh oh. This is the cue that he's struggling to say something to me. My cheeks naturally flush.

"Look, Bells, you don't seem to be getting any better here," he notes. "I think maybe you should consider going back to your mom after all."

"What? No. Definitely not," I shake my head. "I'm doing fine, really."

He raises an eyebrow at me, "You don't talk to anyone, Bella."

"But we just saw everyone at Billy's house," I argue.

"You've cut off your friends from school," he sighs again. He moves closer to my truck and looks at it suspiciously enough. I swallow with the anticipation that he knows more happened than just randomly getting a flat tire like Sam told others.

I still press on against Charlie's words, "I was actually just going to ask Jessica to see if she could hang out soon. Maybe catch a movie or go shopping."

A lie, but I'll follow through on it if I don't have to leave Forks. I'll do just about anything.

Charlie doesn't look like he entirely buys my story, but he nods, giving me that inch of wiggle room I can use to prove myself as a better daughter. The desperation of wanting nothing more floods my veins. Well, nothing more than what I've already wanted these past couple of months.

The ghost of Edward Cullen smiles slightly at me, the first hint of praise coming from the damaged god. But it's too late for that to be anything but ice around my heart.

"You know," Jessica says as we walk out of the theater, "I didn't even think you liked me."

"Of course I do," I immediately say.

She pauses on the sidewalk and looks at me with a 'knowing' look in her eye. My shoulders droop and I break away from looking at her. The night is cold enough that I see my breath forming in front of me. The thought of it being cold outside only makes me colder. I cross my arms against my stomach tighter.

"Yeah. Okay," she laughs.

We resume walking.

I gather up some courage, "So did you like the movie?"

She gives me another look with her eyebrow raised, "Sure. Killed some time for the night."

"Right," I swallow.

There are other teenagers and kids pushing their way past us on the pavement. I'm hit in the shoulders a few times and I recoil from each point of contact. Jessica knows how to move her body with ease and avoids all incoming strangers with only a few twists. A pity of envy grows in my stomach. Maybe for once, I have to admit, she was smarter to avoid the Cullens.

But she's good at talking and I've just given her an opening to do so. She bites even if she knows that's what I was aiming for.

"I'm not the greatest fan of zombies, they're like, whatever. But horror movies as a whole are kind of great. Angela's parents would never let her see anything remotely close to being rated R. So thanks for the invite and letting me pick, I guess."

I nod.

There's a group of men on motorcycles hollering at each other twenty feet down. They're loud and disruptive. My heart rate picks up thinking about passing them.

Jessica huffs at me, "Did you like the movie?"

I get the distinct impression she's only asking to fill another role in the conversation.

"Yep, totally," I answer. I can't name a single scene that happened in it actually. But I doubt she cares.

Jessica ignores my lack of a real answer, "Well, at least watching Matt Damon makes up for the lack of an interesting plot. Even if he died at the end."

I nod again, but I'm not really focusing. Something about the revving of the motorcycles has caught my eye. I stare at the group like it's the first time I'm really seeing something, but the picture hasn't formed clearly in my head yet. They've started to holler at Jessica and me, but I don't tear my eyes away.

"Which one of you pretty ladies would like a ride!" one laughs. The others cheer right after.

"Ew," Jessica tugs on my arm. "Ignore them."

But I keep looking. I wonder, how fast can those things go?

Edward forms out of the cold night air. His soured expression sinks into the corner of my vision. His amber eyes threatened me with unspoken repercussions.

"Come on, little ladies!" Another voice calls out.

I look at Jessica only briefly and then into the eyes of my soulmate.

"Don't," he warns.

I make my decision instantly.

Pushing through Jessica's grip is easy enough, I begin to walk towards the men.

"We got a keeper!"

I look down while making my way to the safest-looking man. He's overweight, but the bulk of his leather jacket likely makes me look larger than he is.

"Hey, where are you going?" Jessica calls out to me. I only look back at her for a second and finding nothing to say, I proceed with my march.

"You're an absolute idiot for this, Bella," Edward says.

I hope so.

The walk to them becomes instantly mortifying. The whistling rings in my ears and I'm certain my whole face is on fire by now.

"You can be killed," my former boyfriend sneers.

There's a bulky man offering me the closest to what I would deem to be a friendly smile. He's balding on his round head, but the appearance of a blond five o'clock shadow makes him look younger and almost trustworthy. His bike is nothing to boast about, but it's not like I would know anything about it anyway. It's dark with two wheels and hopefully enough room for two. All I need.

He smiles brighter when he sees that I've chosen him.

"I need a distraction," I say, surprising myself with my own honesty.

He laughs, "I can do that for you. What's your name, girl?"

"Isabella." I go with my full name to put at least an inch of distance between us. Not like that matters when I've hopped onto the back and wrapped my arms around a stranger.

"Chet," he offers back. "Hold on."

Being on top of the engine sends immediate tingles down my spine. When he pulls on the gas and the revving reaches my ear, I feel like I'm on fire. But nothing burns, only sears into me, melting my stiff muscles. I recognize the feeling to be adrenaline. Danger. Exhilaration. I never felt this way with Edward. I was never scared of him. The opposite was true with James. It was only terror. Now I'm caught in the middle, like being suspended from a bridge that gazes out into the abyss of infinity. I laugh through the strangeness of it.

Chet laughs too. Not for the same reason. I'm sure it's at me, not with me. But I don't care. I feel like extending my arms in the air and flying off the seat of this ride.

"Stop touching this man," Edward scowls.

Hmm, maybe he does want me to let go then?

"No, I want you off the bike, Bella."

Well, that's not happening anytime soon. Not when I'm having so much fun. As we turn down roads and speed through alleyways, I see Edward's figure appear and reappear at each corner. He's trying to ruin my night. His piercing gaze of disappointment hits me in the chest whenever I look fully on.

Fortunately, there's an easy solution. I close my eyes. The feeling of the fast wind hitting my cheeks and hands cools me considerably. I can feel my heart thudding heavily waiting for my bones to splinter so it can escape my body. Even the blood rushing in my ears is acutely sensitive. I wonder again if this is the closest I'll get to being a vampire.

My hair is going everywhere. I half expect Chet to look back at me and demand me to hold it back. I've got no hair ties and he never does. The initial exhilaration of being on a fast-moving vehicle leaves me. A sinking feeling in my stomach forms. What on Earth have I just gotten myself into? This man could kidnap me and no one would know anything. He could bring me back to his gang and let everyone have a piece of me.

The happy adrenaline is replaced by another burst of the same chemical doused in fear. My hands go cold around the man and my feet begin to shake.

"Um," I start to say, "I think I need to go back now."

Suddenly all I can hear is the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. My vision grows fuzzy and I feel seconds away from passing out. I don't even know if he was able to hear me through the constant noise. I could be trapped here all night. Forever.

"Well," Chet responds. "That's too bad."

But I'm familiar enough with the streets to realize he's turning back to where he picked me up. Relief comes, but the remnants of an adrenaline overload leave me feeling low and oddly desperate for more. I have half a mind to tell him to forget it and keep going, but I don't. We've already stopped.

"Thanks," I say as I hop off the bike. The night sets on top of me. I feel like an infinitesimal dot in a vast expanse of nothingness. I barely see Chet's features anymore.

Jessica still stands at the corner with a shocked expression. Oh boy.

"Don't mention it, pretty girl. I'm here all the time if you want to come back." Chet winks and speeds off. The revving once again cracks through my skull, but he's gone and I'm beyond grateful he didn't push for anything more from me.

My stomach flips a thousand different times before I feel like I can move my legs again. I don't have another choice but to approach the friend I forgot I left behind. Another walk of shame.

"Yo, Bella," Jessica's voice is firm when I'm within earshot of her. "What the fuck was that?"

For a brief moment, I see Renee's face plastered over hers. In my memories of my mom she's cursing at me because I forgot to do something she's incapable of completely. Missing the trash man, forgetting to remind her of a payment due, something that I completely failed. But I blink and Jessica Stanely returns to reality, standing on the sidewalk by the theater in the middle of winter.

I look down at my feet, trying not to trip because of the constant unsteadiness I feel slithering up my limbs and sinking into my chest. I mumble, "Sorry," at her and hope that's enough.

The mask on her face cracks into an enraged expression, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I'm sorry," I say again as I get closer and realize she's not even trying to warm herself from the cold. I take a guess that she's shaking from anger instead. I feel a pinprick of guilt for leaving her outside while I sped away.

"That doesn't answer my question!" Her hands fly up in the air, eyes bugged out, and face nearly entirely red. Her jacket isn't equipped to handle her frantic movements.

I bit down on my bottom lip for a bit, "I wanted a little danger?"

"Danger?!" she screams. "Are you freaking kidding me!"

I try my best to shrug nonchalantly.

"If you want danger, try screwing someone at a party or something! Good God! You left me out here alone."

I look away from her again, "I didn't think you'd wait."

"Really? What kind of person would I be if I left you?" she asks and crosses her arms. "I know what you think of me, but I would have expected a higher opinion than that."

A gust of wind blows through and both of our hair is moved everywhere. She fits to smooth everything back into place while I leave it obscuring my vision for longer.

"No," I retort quickly. "It wasn't like that. I didn't think that I was worth it to wait for, really."

Jessica's wrath simmers down and her eyes grow wide in understanding. Only I expect that understanding to be doused in pity and to miss the mark of what I'm trying to say entirely.

"If you didn't come back in the next thirty minutes, I was gonna call the police," she hums. "It would be mortifying to explain you going missing to your dad, you know."

I scratch the back of my neck and finally push the fly-away hairs out of my face, "I am sorry. I didn't consider that."

She looks me up and down and sighs, "Guess you really did want danger. Really though, call me next time if you want something better. Those dudes were gross."

Jessica Stanely doesn't know that I'll use any excuse to bring myself closer to the edge of oblivion now.

My car bounces twice as much with the extra weight in the back. Every little dent on the road sends me flying up to where I'd hit the roof if not for my seatbelt. I groan at the increase of roughness. My senses are already going haywire enough.

The drive to the reservation has oddly calmed me for the moment, especially as I get closer to the border. Passing through and making my way to see Jake exhilarates my entire body. I can only hope he'll be happy to see me with what I've planned.

When I reach his house, I pull around to the garage and obstruct the view of my truck from the house door. There's always a chance Billy might come out and find me before having unloaded what I need.

Fortunately, the load grumble of the engine is enough to get Jake's attention. I hear him bounce out from the house and turn a couple of corners to meet me. I blush upon realizing he's skipping with a giant smile on his face, likely all for me.

"Hey, Bella! What are you doing here?" he asks with cheery laughter.

I smile back, "I picked these things up at a junkyard. Figured you'd maybe want to work on them with me?"

He raises an eyebrow. I muster up some courage and pull the tarp off the two broken motorbikes stashed in the truck bed. Some of the light gray metal is rusted pretty badly and I'm fairly certain there are missing parts. I didn't comprehend much of what the guy said to me.

"Holy crap."

I nod, "Yeah, well." I rub my hand through my hair and press my left foot into the ground.

After staring for a long time, Jacob turns back to look at me and laughs, "Okay, sure. I'll work on these for you, but what do I get out of it?"

"You can keep one? And I'll obviously pay for everything."

He chuckles, "Sounds like a deal."

Without giving me a warning, he jumps onto my truck and easily lifts one of the bikes in his arms. Shit. And I thought it would be impossible to move these on my own. The seller and I had a difficult time loading them to begin with. Jake easily carries it to the back of his garage."

"God, Jake, what have you been eating?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Hm?"

I roll my eyes at his lack of response, "Are you sure you're not on steroids? You're even bigger than when I last saw you for dinner." That must have been a few weeks ago, at least.

He laughs, shakes his head, and makes his way to get the second bike. "It wouldn't be that drastic of a difference if you came around more."

"Well, I intend to," I answer, crossing my arms defensively.

When the second bike is gone, I close the back gate. Running my hand over the metal again, I cringe internally at the remembrance of one of my tires going out. I hope the replacement Sam used could handle the weight of the bikes and it won't pop on me heading home. I sigh again, thinking about that night.

Jake comes back up to me and then stills. His whole body goes completely rigid. Even though I haven't seen him much, I know him enough to notice he's always moving in some way. It's uncanny now.

"Why do you smell like…" he trails off.

"Smell?" I gasp. God, not another person suggesting I stink.

But then he shoots away from me and looks at me with rage in his eyes. "Wow, you're a hypocrite, Bells."

"What?"

He shakes his head, disapprovingly. I'm almost reminded of Sam's posture at the moment. Suddenly, I put two and two together. But how can he smell that? I took an edible.

"Asking if I'm taking drugs when you clearly are," he sneers. The reminder of Sam is gone, replaced with Edward's constant belittlement.

On cue, he forms next to Jake with the same look of disappointment and an 'I told you so' stare that certainly reveals the real Edward's opinions sometimes.

"I-I," I find myself unable to say anything. Still shocked that he even knows just by smelling.

Jake's eyebrows form into a single angry line. "Are you an addict now?"

"Of course not!" I retort. "How can you say that?"

He laughs dryly, "Because now that I'm looking at you, you look like crap, Bella. Seriously."

My mouth falls open, but I can't say anything else or even move. I only look at him as he now refuses to look at me.

"I'm not working on these bikes for you if you're going to take drugs," he says.

My heart hammers in my chest.

"Come back when you're okay."

He leaves me there on the gravel driveway up to his garage. The one person I thought would be an honest friend. Panic sets in and my eyes frantically search around to where he went. The loud slam of the door tells me enough.

He doesn't want to deal with me. No one does. Edwards only seems to agree with that sentiment.

The tears fall without warning.

The coolness of our bathtub walls hits me from all sides through my thin shirt. I'm still clothed as I sit here, only my legs shaking less because of my jeans. I don't plan to turn on the water. I just didn't know where else to go.

My body won't stop shaking. My mind follows the same pattern. Unable to focus on a single thought for too long. I bounce around thinking about Sam's concerned expression to Jessica's shocked look and Jacob's wrath. All deserved. And then finally, to Edward's dark amber eyes of disappointment.

Please just let it all go away.

My hands shake as I open the altoid tin. I've got two red gummies left. Normally that might last me a bit since I don't use them every day, but I decide to consume them both at once. The high might relieve some of the pain. I'll do anything to make it less painful.

I told Charlie some lie about needing to relax in my room instead of coming down to dinner immediately. He seemed to buy it. He won't press against my bouts of melancholy. Not like Renee might if she paid attention.

See that's the problem, I think. People are paying too much attention to me now. I don't want it. I never did. Not from them.

I close my eyes and pass out in the bathroom.

A/N: This chapter was such a struggle to write because I kept falling asleep and then waking up in the middle of the night to write when I should have before I went to bed.

Anyway, my goal is to try to get done with half of this story (roughly twenty chapters) before the fall semester starts up again. Might be pushing it since it's already July yikes