Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership over the ideas of others incorporated into this fic. It all belongs to its rightful owners.
death
She's given much thought to how she could die.
At the bottom of the cliff, waves crash against protruding rocks over and over as the wind echoes harshly around her and the sound of both thunders in the air.
Her gaze moves further out, to where the large waves wane and recede in ripples until the ocean's blue surface levels out, leaving in its wake a calm, flat sea.
She finds the contrast alluring.
The push and pull of the waves crashing down and merging into a flat distant surface, like the image of a thundering heartbeat flatlining on a monitor. The rush of water ringing in her ears just as the long beeping of the machine would reverberate in the white, sterile room.
Yet, despite the chaos just feet below her, she stands still at the edge of the La Push cliff with nothing but her thoughts and his voice as company.
The cold has long since seeped into her, chilling her down to the very bone and numbing her body inside out, but she ignores his pleas to turn away.
Today marks the fourth month since they left, since he left.
At first, she couldn't even keep track of the time passing by. She was numb—as numb as her body was now—going through the motions without any awareness of her surroundings. The days blending into one another, the same routine done over and over.
She would wake up from a dream—of him, of his family—reality crashing into her and holding her down as she got ready for school. And then the school day would pass in a blur of lectures she never heard, eyes never straying from her notebook, until the bell rang and she somehow managed to get home in one piece.
She would spend her days doing homework, or cleaning the house, or cooking for Charlie. And sometimes, when it became too consuming a need to cast aside, she would eat.
Time was incomprehensible to her, a unit of measurement she had not the peace of mind to decipher. Everything reminded her of him, of them. From the empty lunch table in the cafeteria to the empty parking space on the school lot, all of it only serving to further deepen the hole their absence left in her life.
She couldn't bring herself to go on without him, without them, without feeling like her future hadn't just been torn apart and she was left with nothing in its wake.
Just months beforehand, her life had seemed so perfect. She moved back to Forks to live with her father and in the span of a few weeks she had a group of friends, a new family, and a perfect boyfriend at her side.
She was set for life, for an eternity.
And then, her birthday came. She hadn't wanted the party in the first place, can't help ruminating over whether they'd still be there if she hadn't cut herself at all, but she was clumsy, like always, and she did cut herself, and she knew Jasper couldn't help his reaction.
But she didn't blame him.
She told him she didn't blame any of them.
But he still brought her out to the meadow, their meadow—the place he first revealed himself in—and broke her heart. He took his family, her future and everything she had of them with him, and without even looking back, he left her to become a shell of her former self.
A shell that yearns to hear his voice, to see his form, to have him back so that she can return to herself.
She doesn't remember when she first started hearing his voice, if it happened before that night in Port Angeles, the night she tried to move on. All she recalls now is his voice pleading with her to not get on that bike, and ever since, all she's done is try to hear him again.
And now she's here, standing on a precipice overlooking La Push in the midst of winter.
She knows she should've waited for Jake, even he thinks so and he's never liked Jake, but she couldn't wait anymore. He was fading, no longer responding to her riding Jake's bike, and she needed to do something.
Anything.
It was a high, in a way, the rush she would get from doing things he doesn't like, hearing his voice begging her to listen. She loved it, craved it, and needed it to combat the numbness that took residence within her.
He only cares when she's in danger.
And she never cares for the consequences of her actions.
She wants to experience the onslaught of waves below, feel the rush that comes with jumping off into the unknown zip through her and alight her from within, the adrenaline that would course through her veins long after she exits the freezing waters.
She doesn't know how long has passed as she's stood there contemplating her next move, relieved to hear his voice yet not acknowledging his words, but the wind is no longer noticeable as it brushes against her skin.
She braces herself, smiling at the pain in his voice, and then she jumps.
She jumps, and immediately regrets it.
There are no flashes of her life in the seconds it takes her to crash into the sea. No sudden images that flow one after the other in quick succession, retelling the moments that have led up to that point. There's nothing but a single realization that passes through her with a sharp clarity.
I don't want to die.
But it's come far too late as she breaks through the water's surface, the speed of her fall pushing her down farther than she anticipated.
She tries to swim, tries to push against the onslaught of waves now crashing against her form, throttling her body to and fro as she reaches for the light just visible from the surface above, but her body is rattled from the crash and her breath is leaving her too fast.
And as she pictures him in her mind, as she hears his voice, as his last words echo in her mind—"It'll be like I never existed, I promise"—she just stops. She stops trying and lets go.
Like I never existed.
The waves throw her against the cliff and she knows no more.