"Life did not stop, and one had to live." ― Leo Tolstoy
He's gone.
Minutes tick by to signal the nearing end of English class. The first week of the last semester of high school still proves to be exceedingly dull. Macbeth is set to be the highlight. I remember reading it many times while bored in middle school. Don't listen to your wife when she says to kill someone. Easy enough.
I run into Angela in the hallway and give her a cheery smile. She seems a bit taken aback by my extra effort to be nice. But she's receptive, as always.
Listening to her troubles with Eric seems the least I can do for someone I've tended not to particularly care about in a meaningful way. It seems those instances of absent reciprocity are standing out to me more than ever before.
But Jessica joins and my stomach sinks. I work to put a happy expression back on my face.
Too soon, Angela excuses herself to catch up with her fickle boyfriend running down the hall without paying her much attention. I twist my body sideways to look as if I'm going to walk away myself, but Jessica maneuvers herself easily between me and the row of lockers.
"Are you doing okay, Bella?" she asks with one eyebrow raised at me. "We haven't really talked after the party…"
"Never better. Healthy as a horse, actually," I cut her off and make sure a smile reaches my eyes.
It's not true. I know there are budding dark circles underneath my eyes and nausea building in the back of my throat. But my hair is brushed and bouncy today and I'm wearing brighter colors. I look better than I did all last semester.
Still, Jessica tilts her head at me and searches my face for some hidden truth. She won't find it. I keep smiling. Ultimately, she's made to stop and just shrugs.
"Well, okay. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Her tone indicates she's giving me one last chance here to come clean.
"Thanks!" I exclaim. "But I'd rather talk about how you're doing with your college applications so far. I might need some help with mine."
She can't resist the cue. Jessica's normal attitude resumes. As long as she isn't focused on me, I'll listen to anything. Even if my current thoughts about college most circle around finding myself alone in a dorm with the blinds drawn and no one to rescue me.
I carry the empty Altoid tin with me. When my mind grows weaker, I rub it through my pocket and try to remember. He's gone and won't come back. It doesn't help to cope with substances.
It seems that college is also the talk of my home life. Charlie greets me at the dining table with a grunt as he stews over various school brochures. Community colleges, in-state, out-of-state. The memory of Carlisle saying he would be happy to send me anywhere I want hits me full force. But it's surprisingly much easier to push back than it has been.
"It's gotten more expensive since your mom and I went, Bells," Charlie tells me. He flickers between blue pamphlets and red ones.
"Inflation," I respond.
He nods.
I can see the gears in his mind spinning. He's calculating costs. It's the number one factor of consideration, after all. Even with Renee and Phil's money, too many places are out of budget. Frankly, saving money by spending the first couple years at a community college seems the most prudent of options.
"I'll probably get a few scholarships, Dad," I try to say. It's not much to ease his worry, but hopefully, he's considering that as well.
His dark eyes finally meet mine, "I know. I just want you to have the best possible. Your mom does too."
I shake my head, "I don't want the best, really. Just maybe something to get a stable career, you know?"
Charlie draws his eyebrows together, "Are you thinking about your options then?"
His tone tells me he's trying to tread lightly around me. Can't blame him after barely responding to most things he said months ago. Maybe he's mentioned something about college and I completely tuned him out. Wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.
"Everyone at school is, I guess. Working here while I save money by taking classes in Port Angeles isn't the worst idea."
"You still want to stay here?"
I cross my arms over my chest. I can see his belief written plainly on his face. But I am not going to wait forever. I don't have that much time to spare.
"I just want to enjoy the things I haven't noticed before," I offer weakly. A small smile still spreads over my face. It's far from a lie. It might even be the truth.
Something in me feels changed. Though the water from the showerhead is not an extreme temperature, each droplet surges down to the deepest layers of my flesh. I feel the ghost of hot touches crawl up and down my body. The trembling reaches my eyelids.
Something, still, calls me to La Push.
I don't pull up close to their house. If I squint, there's a TV shining through the window, but I could just be seeing things. Instead, I take the time to walk a bit through the dirt. The cold outdoors seem much less harsh here than in Forks. Still, I hold my jacket tightly and keep my head down.
The garage is still full of hunks of scraps and tools sprawled out everywhere. It warms the ache in my chest. I peer around at the things Jacob has been working on, letting my hand glide over the cool metal. The Volkswagen Rabbit sits with its hood popped open. Even though I peer inside, I can't pinpoint anything wrong with it. Perhaps just routine maintenance. He's good about that.
"Hey," the sound of Jake's voice reaches me.
I nearly jump up. But upon spinning around and getting ready to explain myself, Jake's eyes are soft and I lose the nerves
"Hey," I answer back. I tug at the hem of my shirt sleeves.
We stare at each other. A breeze runs through and blows both of our hair to the side.
"How are you doing-" "I stopped-" We talk over each other.
A smile spreads across all of his features. Warmth just rushes to my face. I peek down at the garage floor, "Sorry."
He laughs, the sound deep from his belly, "Don't apologize, Bella. I was just wondering how you are."
I look back up at him, "I, uh, threw out all my stuff, so…"
My voice trails off at the end and instead of making direct eye contact, I look at the rest of his face. His prominent jaw and red skin remind me of someone I'm not yet ready to think about. But the heart of Jake's uniqueness seeps through. The light in his expression and his clef chin are unmistakably the friend I know.
"You did?" There's surprise in his voice.
I shrug and thumb the car again, distracting my aching joints.
"Yeah, I guess, I don't need the pills to run from anything anymore."
"You never did," he says. "But...I am sorry for snapping at you. That was probably the last thing you needed."
"No," I rush out. "Don't be sorry. It did help, you know. I probably could have used a lot more people yelling at me."
He raises an eyebrow at me. But instead of judgment, I know he's questioning whether I'm trying to lie about his impact to make him feel better. I don't have enough time or energy to get into it, though. I don't have enough stability to talk to myself.
"So, you are feeling better?"
A laugh escapes me, "Definitely not. The cravings are awful. I feel nauseous and I'm pretty sure my head is going to explode."
Jake chuckles, "Withdrawals."
"Yep," I bit my lip to refrain from laughing even more. "I didn't realize I was signing up for that."
He takes only two large steps to walk over to me and fling his arm around my shoulder, "Well, let's distract you then. I've still got those bikes back here."
I buy Jake lots of pizza as payment for his time. He can eat an entire one in about ten minutes. That's with talking to me between bites. I try not to make too many comments about his endless appetite. It's a sinking feeling that I might be embarrassing him.
Tinkering on the bikes makes me happier than I've been in many months. Perhaps close to the happiest I've been since coming to Forks. Setting a goal and working towards it ignites a competitive spirit I didn't know I had within me. I tease Jake about having my bike turn out better than his. He scoffs because he knows he's doing the real work on both of them. But I keep smirking while shining mine with a dirty rag.
I don't think about the things I don't want to think about at all actually. Really, I don't.
"You know, Bells, I'm not even sure why I was so angry at you," Jacob laughs as he works on something related to the motor for his bike. He squats on the floor of his garage with grease up to his elbows. Later I might offer to get him a towel.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
He shrugs so nonchalantly, "I guess I was just feeling extra angry that day, dunno why. It's been happening sometimes. And then I just smelt the drugs on you and got even more pissed."
A frown works its way onto my face, "Yeah, Jake, how did you smell that?"
"Come on, honey. It was obvious. Basically smelled like you'd been rolling around in blunts."
I shake my head and look away from him while he continues to work. I remember the same confusion creeping up that day. How could someone smell edibles when they're meant to be odorless?
School continues to be as uninteresting as ever. At least subject matter-wise. The intricacies of how teachers talk and joke with students never stood out to me before. I see their deep smile lines and jokes regarding the forced curriculum in a new light. They're people too, somehow, all struggling in an imperfect world.
I skip down the hall to catch up with Mike just before the lunch period ends.
"Hey, I keep seeing signs around your family's store about needing staff," I say to him. I almost wink to get the point across, but he understands me right away.
He lights up immediately, "Really? You're considering it?"
"Sure, I mean, I could use the extra money and something else to do," I smile at him.
"Well, you're hired!" Mike exclaims and his boyish but friendly attitude proves to be infectious just like Jake's. Have I never noticed this before either? He isn't all bad when he's not trying to hit on me.
"Do you have the authority to do that?" I tease. "Shouldn't I fill out an application or talk to your mom?"
He waves his hand through the air, "Sure, come by tonight. She'll be there around seven. But you'll definitely get the job. Not many other people are applying."
I smile more, "Now I just gotta hope the Chief lets me."
Charlie does, of course. He's both shocked and pleased I followed through on my suggestion to work to save up funds. He doesn't need to know that half of my money will probably be going to parts for the bikes, however. And more food to satiate Jake.
Still too slowly for my liking, the weather warms up. I keep bundling up, but there are days Jake only wears a couple of flannels and laughs as if the ice could ever hurt his warm heart. He's kinder to me than I deserve.
He deserves someone who won't try to subtly scoot away each time he gets near. Jake either doesn't notice or doesn't press for contact. I'm thankful either way. It'll help the guilt recede when he forgives me for not wanting to be so close.
"We should go to the scrapyard, Bells," Jacob tells me, wiping sweat from his brow. "I can't save this throttle."
I look at it to discern what's wrong, but I come up empty-handed. "Right."
He gets up to dust himself off effortlessly and I do the same albeit with more stumbles and curses. Jake reaches to hold me up and catches me before I can prove I don't need help. I mumble gratitude under my breath but don't meet his eyes. I can't think about how his touch burns in a distressing way.
"Suppose I'll drive," I laugh to ease some of the tension. He responds in kind quickly and my heart sinks once more. I'm an awful person.
We're able to get what we need there. Jake's haggling with the man on duty saved me a couple bucks. I tell him it'll just go straight back into the pizza fund.
When we leave to go back, Jake examines the new radio in my car. I cringe upon seeing him really take notice of it and internally hope he won't mention it. Life is seldom so fair.
"This is nice," he says. It's not in an enthusiastic 'I wish I had one for myself' kind of way. More of 'this looks expensive but wholly out of place.'
My insides only clench together more. "Yup."
When I feel his eyes boring holes in the back of my skull, willing me to continue, I can only manage a quick "it was a gift" underneath my breath. I don't want to elaborate, not even to explain that it didn't come from the person he thinks it did. Neither of us has a reason to say any of their names now.
Jake and I look out opposite sides of the truck to focus on something other than each other. It's difficult for me to really gaze at the scenery when I'm trying to drive, however.
But then I see it. Four figures on the top of a rocky cliff. I do a few double takes. Their skin is the same russet color that most everyone has on the reservation. But the defining features, the ones I had only seen on one person before, stand out to me like a new kid in a small town. A giant tribal tattoo is on all of their shoulders. And their hair is all cropped short. Large, defined, and threatening muscles clearly evident from the lack of shirts.
The memory of running my fingers over that tattoo slaps me across the face. I have little time to react. Two of the men, and they certainly look that way from this distance with their enormous bodies, throw themselves right off the cliff.
I'm slamming on the breaks. Jake and I both lurch forward in the truck. He has to put his hands out in front of him and brace himself with the dashboard to prevent flying into the window due to his large body mass.
"Jesus!" he hollers at me.
I don't listen, I get out of my truck and slam the door. I'm speeding walking to the group of guys on the mountain.
"Bella, stop!" Jake yells again as I've almost crossed the highway. "They're just cliff-diving!"
I turn back to look at him, flustered and holding the truck door from his side. His hair whips around him furiously.
"Huh?"
He motions hurriedly for me to get back to safety. I give another look towards the group before following his suggestion and dashing back over to my car. Sure enough, another truck drives down the bend in the highway moments later.
"Why are they doing that?" I press.
Jake laughs, "Just for fun, Bella. It's a common thing around here."
I bite my lip, "Well, can I do it?"
I don't know why I ask that, honestly. My urge to throw myself off a building-and thus a cliff-has significantly decreased in the last week.
"You'll freeze in this weather, honey. Plus they're obviously choosing the most dangerous spot to jump from." Jake rolls his eyes on the last part, but I couldn't tell one way or another.
I grip my hands on the steering wheel again and look out straight in front. I don't need to keep thinking of that tattoo.
"Who are they?" I ask, despite knowing I should stay clear of the subject.
It's apparently the wrong question to ask because Jake gets visibly annoyed and shakes his head in frustration. I begin to both regret it and feel the surge of curiosity.
"Sam Uley's cult," he grits out.
"Sam?" the name leaves my lips before I can stop it. Like a flutter of a butterfly's wings, the smallest of touches reverberate in my mind.
"Yeah," Jake rolls his eyes, "the oldest of the group. He recruited Paul and Jared first….then Embry." The last name comes out in a hushed worry.
I know what he means instantly, "But I just saw him not that long ago?"
Jake nods as I decide to finally restart the truck and put us both back on track to his place. The fog continues to gather at the ground, but we speed through it causing the swirling of milky patterns in our wake.
"Embry used to call them the hall monitors," Jake chuckles. "Guess whatever Sam has to say can be pretty convincing."
The last part is bitter, I know that. But a very small voice inside of me agrees wholeheartedly.
"Well," I chew on my thoughts, "What do they do in their cult?"
"Who knows. Can't be drugs since they go around trying to stop that shit everywhere they see it."
I snort.
Jake turns to look at me with a perplexed expression.
"Sorry, just, you know…"
"Right, sorry, Bells. I shouldn't joke about that around you."
"No worries."
As if I could tell the half of it.
We drive in silence for the remaining minutes back to his place. Neither of us wishing to make any awkwardness continue. Perhaps if I hadn't been so abysmally stupid in trying to use different means to escape my reality we wouldn't be in this position today.
But when we stop in front of his garage and get out of my truck, Jacob pauses to look at me with a serious expression on his face.
"I think they're going to come for me next," he admits.
My whole body stills. I don't even see the cloud of breath in front of me.
He swallows, "It's the way they look at me, especially Sam. It's like they're waiting for something...I don't know for what. Maybe for me to break and beg at their feet for acceptance."
"That won't happen," I rush out.
Jake gives a dry laugh, "Embry used to agree."
I find there's nothing appropriate for me to say to that. But something worrying strikes me in the chest when I consider Jake's words and tone. He's afraid.
One night I wake up drenched in sweat and remembering Laurent's words to me. I try to convince myself it's just a nightmare. But I keep looking over my shoulder anyway.
I'm now driving to Jake's every day after school that I don't have a shift at Newton's. Sometimes I get there before he even gets out of his classes. I never go in to talk to Billy though. His judgment, though he works to contain it, is never more than a wrong move away. The additional paranoia of watching him occasionally peer back the curtains to look at us hang out is just another thing that eats at me when I try to sleep.
But I won't mention it to Jake.
He's been too happy lately and I can't take away from that. Whatever anger he said he experienced earlier hasn't surfaced at all with me. Maybe he's just been hypercritical. I should be a better friend and try to remedy that if he needs it.
But today, Jake smiles at me with the widest grin I've seen on him yet. He throws his book bag on the dirty garage floor without a worry or care.
"I've got one of the bikes done," he literally spasms with excitement.
"Really? That's awesome. Let's try it out."
"Me first, Bells. I gotta be the man here and make sure it doesn't hurt the vulnerable lady."
I roll my eyes at him, "You're still sixteen. That is hardly a man."
"But I look it," he winks at me.
And I don't respond because I know he's right. Even hanging out with Jake for a month now has shown me that he really is growing at a rapid weight. I can see the muscles underneath his clothes becoming more and more defined. It reminds me of someone…
The bike he chose for himself is wider than mine but still sleek. Jake's insistent that it isn't all that heavy. And while I've seen much bulkier bikes, I know it still weighs far beyond my capability to move as easily as he does. I chalk it up to testosterone being one hell of a drug.
He mounts the bike and looks back to me to wink in a sly chide. The bike makes a few sputtering sounds of intensity and then he takes off. Jake looks back a few more times before he really accelerates towards the trees.
He yells in enjoyment and clutches the handlebars closer to his chest. I cock my head at him. The simmering emotion of jealousy in me feels slightly misplaced. I search for the reason why it doesn't seem quite right. I should be pissed he isn't giving me the chance to try it out.
The thought that we don't have any helmets hits me the moment he crashes.
One second passes.
Then I scream.
"JAKE."
He's lying on the ground and hasn't gotten up as far as I can see. I take off running towards him. Pumping my legs as fast as I can across the ground. There's only one thing on my mind and that's making sure he's okay.
My lungs burn so bad that I can't scream his name again. Pathetic sounds of terror escape my mouth. I know my body is going to ache so bad tomorrow. I can already feel bile rising in my throat.
Covering the distance he did in thirty seconds on a bike takes significantly longer. I'm panting hard now, but I keep looking at him until he stirs and rolls over. That little bit of relief is enough for me to slow down so my lungs don't explode in the effort to make sure he's alive. He could have a concussion though.
He's clutching his head when I get near him to stop. I fall to his side and look him over for injuries immediately. The redness begins to slowly pour from his temple. It makes my stomach feel all the worse.
"Oh god," I say.
"Uhh," Jake moans. "I figured that might happen."
"What?"
He shrugs and tries to sit up. I wrap my arms around his shoulders to try to pull him up, but his body weight is no comparison to my limp arms. I can feel the defined curves in his back even now.
"The wiring on the bike wasn't perfect yet," he chuckles.
I lightly sock him on the shoulder, but he doesn't even flinch from it, "You're an idiot! How could you do that?"
"It was a 50/50 chance it would work out. That's why I wasn't gonna let you try."
"Jake, this is serious! What would have happened if you got seriously hurt?" I scold, my bottom lip trembling at the thought. Tears gather in the corner of my eyes.
He smiles at him, positively grins in fact. "So you care about me, huh?"
"Of course. You shouldn't even question that," I shake my head, desperately not in the mood to joke when he could have died.
But when I pause to look at him, his eyes are soft and he smiles sweetly at me. Expressions of admiration like this normally aren't so transparent between us. I part my mouth in surprise, not sure how to deal with this.
He swoops forward and gently presses his lips onto mine. Barely there, but there nonetheless. His lips are hot too. But wrong. I feel that down to my bones.
I freeze and then immediately fall back to get away from him. He looks at me in surprise, perhaps both that he did that and that I wanted to get away from him. Yet, he doesn't make any move to try it again.
Now anger bubbles to the surface.
"Why did you do that?" my voice goes low.
His eyes widen even more, "Wha…"
I push myself off the ground and stare down at him cooly. The bit of blood on his head continues to dribble down to his chin. Despite my anger right now, I still don't want to see him injured. I settle for a long put-off route: trying to let him down easy.
"Jake, you know..." I start.
He waves his hand to get me to stop and jumps back up to tower over me. "Don't say it, Bella."
I pause and look at him again. His cheeks have grown redder and he looks more pained than I first realized. The guilt floods my body for having to do this. I don't know how to go about doing this the right way. He's not going to respond well for me
"I'm not ready, you have to know that," I say instead.
It's enough for Jake's eyes to soften just a bit.
"I do know, honey. I just, well, you know how I feel," he explains. Then he looks down, refusing to meet my eyes this time. "I don't even know why I did that."
Too much, too soon. I turn away from him so he doesn't see the shame on my face. I hear him pick up the bike and begin to walk back to the garage ahead of us. I let him lead so I don't feel him staring at me as I walk.
It feels worse than every time I've rejected Mike, even for the most basic of things. And now I'm going to be working with him...but Jake, my best friend these days. The excitement of coming to La Push to see him and work on our bikes. I've ruined it all.
"It's okay, Bella," he turns back to say to me.
I cough, "How do you know what I'm thinking?"
He gives me a sad smile, "I know you too well. I know he is still living in your mind right now."
Jake pauses to let me catch up and then he slides his hand underneath his shirt to rip off a piece of the fabric. I look down to where his abs are exposed and frown. He uses the shirt to wipe off the blood still sliding down his face.
Now, I realize, is not the time to tell him he's wrong. Edward's gone. Though the memory of him remains, I realize a second thing, it's not the thought of him that makes kissing Jake so wrong to me. It's something else.
We sit down on the stools in Jake's garage as he teases me to not tell Billy or Charlie what happened. He knows I won't because my dad would ground me till I'm thirty if he knew I wanted a motorcycle. But the hint of returning joy does not last for long. Jake's face grows serious once more and my stomach clenches again.
"It's all the shit with Sam, Bella," he tells me, barely looking at me.
"Sam," I squeak out. I've said his name again. It feels like I've stepped on a thousand thorns. Painful, but if I look down, it'll make it that much worse.
"I shouldn't use you to make me feel better. Now when you have your own problems to deal with."
"But your my problem too," I say. Then I cringe, "I mean, I care, Jake. I do want to hear about it."
He gives me a sympathetic smile, "I've tried to talk to my dad about it, but he won't hear it. For all he knows, Sam and the others shit rainbows all day long. 'They're good for the tribe,' yeah fucking right."
"But your dad knows you're uncomfortable," I ask.
Jake twirls a wrench in his hands. His knuckles are turning weight.
"I've been told to 'man up' about it."
I nod and stay silent, transfixed on Jake's hand shaking now with the tool in his grasp. I wonder for a split second what kind of damage he could cause if he threw it across the room. But that thought is unfairly paranoid, so it leaves me as soon as it came.
"You just don't know what it's like to be targeted by this guy, Bells."
Jake looks up at me with hard brown eyes.
I swallow something in my throat.
He's right. I don't.
I don't know what it's like to be desired by Sam Uley. The memories of all of our encounters hit me hard. Each time he's had to be annoyed by my actions, or bored enough to return my drunken expressions. Probably was just in the right place at the right time. He probably didn't care much at all.
The memories of that night a month ago are still fuzzy. But I remember the end. I remember gathering my clothes in a hurry and demanding to Jessica that we leave right away. And I never elaborated why.
Panic and sadness explode within me.
Sam left me. I remember that now. And I remember someone else leaving me beforehand too. Even though it was the last vestige of Edward Cullen still living in my head and everything else remains a frozen memory, I felt relieved. But I won't think about it anymore. His harsh words are finally gone and that's all I need. Honestly.
I don't think of the very corporeal man who left me in that room. He probably doesn't think of me either.
It's probably good he doesn't if he's recruiting teenage boys into a cult anyway.
I furiously wipe the tears from my eyes. I can't say why I'm crying, but I am. Unfortunately, I'm not quick enough to hide from Jake. He's immediately by my side and offering me a dirty rag, but I shake it away.
"Oh, wow, I'm sorry, Honey. I didn't know this would make you so upset. But don't worry, okay? I'll handle it. It's really more of an annoyance than anything," Jake rambles at me.
But I stand and shake my head again at him. "I think I need to leave now. I'm sorry."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I say and I speed-walk to my truck, barely managing to turn around to look at his confused and anguished face. We stare at each other again for a moment. I'm grateful for the many yards between us so he can't physically comfort me again. I get in, turn the engine over, and pull out without so much a wave goodbye. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jake's heartbroken face watching me go.
Later, I tell myself it doesn't hurt and I'm not afraid. If it's a lie, I don't have the energy to fight it.
A/N: Wow, I meant to have this chapter up yesterday, but the writing was just not working for me last night. Glad it is finally done! This week features a slightly healthier Bella now that hooking up with Sam finally pushed Edward out of her mind. She's still not the best though, of course, but I think she's making effort to live again even if she's still depressed. Thanks for reading!