The wind fights with me as I fall, attempting to beat the unconquerable gravity, twirling me in spirals and whipping me through the air like a rocket. My throat hurts from the screams that rip through my throat, but I can't stop them. Even when I had oppurtunities to cliff dive with Jacob and Quil and Embry, I declined. I was too scared.
Now, despite my best efforts, I'm hurtling to the water, attempting to twist through the air so I land with my feet pointed in, but the best I can do I flip through the air with my head facing the inky ocean, hands raised up to soften my blow.
The water is freezing, black, and lonely. I don't know where Bella is, and don't dare open my eyes to search for her under the water. Because of the height I had fallen from, I plunge deep into the water, and am unable to stop myself. Just when I think things can't get any worse, the current catches me.
Now, instead of the air fighting me, it's the waves. They jerk me back and forth between them, a desperate war no one was winning. It's angry, and black in every direction. I had flipped around underneath the surface so much that I had no idea where the top was, and the black water is no help. The waves are no help, I feel no downward pull, no sinking in any direction, just the constant battering of the current that flung me round and round like a rag doll.
My lips are locked together, keeping the last bits of oxygen I have stored away. I can feel the tightness in my chest, the dots starting to appear in my vision. I am struck with the realization that I am drowning. I try to swim, but there's nothing but darkness. No place to swim to.
My arms are numb from the freezing water, my legs stiff and unable to move. I don't feel the current much, just dizziness, spinning helplessly in the water.
As I feel myself slowly losing the fight, I force myself to continue reaching, kick my legs harder, even though every second I was facing a new direction, but never up to the surface. My muscles start giving out in exhaustion, and my head spins from lack of oxygen.
I decide, while my body starts shutting down, that maybe it's best that I die here. After all, I'm already on my second life and what have I done with it? Hurt myself, and everyone else that cares about me?
With that thought, I felt my heart give one last pump before the blackness consumed me, and I drifted away.
A bright light interrupts the black, getting brighter and brighter until I hesitantly open my eyes. For some reason the light doesn't blind me.
"You need to let go already."
I turn around, and for a moment am surprised that I'm no longer underwater, no longer soaked to the bone from the crashing currents that had surrounded me moments ago.
The girl standing in front of me looks to be about twenty five, and is a bit homely. She isn't the prettiest, isn't the ugliest.
"That's a smidge rude to say." The girl raises an eyebrow.
"Can you hear what I think?" I squeaked out, feeling blood rush to my face.
"Of course. We are the same." She says.
"What do you mean?" I ask incredulously. Obviously, she's crazy.
"You are I, and I am you. We come from the same soul, merely recycled into someone new. You held onto your past life, and it's causing complications in your new life. Part of you is Rayna, and part of you is Magdalena." She replies.
Everything rushes back to me, the memories of the past, memories of the present, memories of both lives hit me hard until I'm kneeling on the ground scratching at my arms.
"Enough of that." The girl orders, and I stop without my consent. "I'm here to tell you to let go. It will be hard enough for you to fight your mental illness without me holding you back."
"What do you mean?" I repeat, my head pounding from both of the lifetimes it's reliving.
"You are here, not to die, but to let me die."
"But you said we're the same. So then if you die, I die, right?"
"No," She says gently. "I am Magdalena, and you are Rayna. Let me go."
"How?" I mumur, my head still reeling.
"Accept that I am your past, and you are your future." Magdalena touches my shoulder.
Water starts seeping through my clothes again, and I feel myself beginning to choke on water that seems to be crawling in my throat and chest. I look to Magdalena in fear, unsure of what is happening.
"Good luck, Rayna Black." Are the last words I hear before I fade out once more.
The rocks from the cliff are smashing into me. They beat against the center of my back sharply, rhythmically, pushing the water from my lungs. It gushes out in amazing volume, absolute torrents pour from my mouth and nose. The salt burns and my lungs burn and my throat is too full of water to catch a breath and the rocks are hurting my back. Somehow I stay in one place, though the waves still heave around me. I can't see anything but water everywhere, reaching for my face.
"Breathe!" a voice, wild with anxiety, orders, and I felt a cruel stab of pain because I'm not dead..
I can't obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth doesn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath. The black, icy water fills my chest, burning.
The rock smacks into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water chokes its way out of my lungs.
"Breathe, Rayna! C'mon!" Paul begs.
Black spots bloom across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light.
The rock strikes me again.
The rock isn't cold like the water; it is hot on my skin. I realize it's Paul's hand, trying to beat the water from my lungs. My head whirls, the black spots covering everything…
Am I dying again, then? I don't like it—this isn't as good as the last time. It is only dark now. The sound of the crashing waves fade into the black and become a quiet, even whoosh that sounds like it is coming from the inside of my ears…
"Baby?" Paul asks, his voice wild with worry, but not as wild as before. "Rayna, babe, can you hear me?"
The contents of my head swish and roll sickeningly, like they'd joined the rough water.
"How long has she been unconscious?" someone else asks.
The voice that is not Paul's shocked me, jarring me into a more focused awareness.
I realize that I am still. There is no tug of the current on me—the heaving is inside my head. The surface under me is flat and motionless. It feels grainy against my bare arms.
"I don't know," Paul reports, still frantic. His voice is very close. Hands—so warm they have to be his—brush wet hair from my cheeks. "Too long? It didn't take long to tow her to the beach, and I started compressions right away, but Bella woke up two minutes ago."
The quiet whooshing inside my ears is not the waves—it is the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burns—the passageways are as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool. But I am breathing.
And I am freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads are striking my face and arms, making the cold worse.
"She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning…" I recognize Sam's voice this time.
"You think it's okay to move her?"
"She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?"
"I don't know. Bella didn't, but Bella jumped deliberately. Rey fell in after her."
They hesitate.
I try to open my eyes. It takes me a minute, but then I can see the dark, purple clouds, flinging the freezing rain down at me.
"Paul?" I manage to croak out, every word ripping my vocal cords apart.
"Oh my god," Paul rushes his words. "Babygirl, are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?"
"My throat," I chatter out through my freezing lips. "And m-my head."
"Okay. You'll be okay. I'm going to bring you out of the cold." Paul assures me, and scoops me up like I weigh nothing. His bare chest is warm, and inviting, so I burrow myself into his skin, feeling my numb skin burn from his heat.
"Do you want her sweatshirt?" Sam asks, and I feel Paul nod, and suddenly my sweatshirt is draped over his shoulder.
But, hang on, if Sam has my sweatshirt, that means..
I look down to see that I am only in my lace bra, my arms and stomach and numerous scars exposed for all to see. There is no more hiding. Paul, and Sam, are aware of how bad I have been hurting myself.
"We're going to my house, okay?" Paul says into my hair, and I nod weakly. \
I press every inch of myself that I can against Paul, and I feel him shudder involuntarily. A sudden wave of want rushes through my body, and it feels muted, as though I am feeling someone else's emotions.
Could it be possible that I am feeling Paul's emotions?
Paul starts running, and I let my thoughts wander. Of course, they wandered to the person who's chest I was currently burrowing into. What was I going to do with Paul?
With him holding me, I felt.. Lighter, than I had in months. I didn't feel as though my head was too small for all the thoughts and feelings running through my mind. I feel less stressed, I feel more, whole, more myself.
Yet, could I accept him in my life, knowing that I had hurt Seth so deeply through the imprint? How could I possibly be with Paul knowing that the imprint had irreparably damaged the most important relationship in my life? Should I simply break it off clean and simple with Paul, tell him that we can't see each other, that it won't work?
I physically flinch as I think of that, wincing from the sharp pain it sends through my chest. No, I can't send him away. Not only does that thought hurt me, it would destroy him. I can't hurt him. I've already hurt too many people. I can't add another person to that list.
Maybe, if things with Seth hadn't ended so catastrophically, I wouldn't be so torn. Perhaps I would be able to healthily be with Paul. If Seth knew that Paul was truly destined to be with me, would Seth forgive me?
Of course, Seth can't know about the pack. Therefore, I will not be able to explain the entire situation to him.
The rain stops suddenly, and with a start I realize Paul has brought me inside his house. It is a small house, smaller than even my own.
"I'm going to get you dry clothes, you can wait on the chair." Paul says, a statement rather than a question. He sets me gently on a wooden chair, then sighs shortly. "Ignore the mess."
He disappears, presumably to his room, and I start chattering from being away from my personal heater. I take the time to look around his house, and am startled. It's dark, and empty beer cans litter the floor, dirty dishes and takeout boxes pile on every surface, overflowing ashtrays lay on multiple table tops. The entire house looks dirty, to put it bluntly.
I cross my arms, and shift uncomfortably. I hadn't expected Paul's house to look this way.
"These are going to be big on you, but it's better than nothing. I'll put your clothes in the wash." Paul reappears, holding a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeve gray shirt.
"Thanks," I murmur, shakily standing up. My legs are still numb, and to my embarassment I almost topple over.
"Sit down." Paul orders, and I find myself obeying. He pulls over a chair, and sits across from me, pulling a hand across his face. I notice how tired he looks. "We need to talk."
I swallow thickly, and wince at the raw sensation in my throat. "About what?" I croak out.
Paul says nothing, and leaves the room. He returns a second later with a water bottle in his hand, held out to me. I take it graciously.
"I need to know where else you've cut." Pauls looks at my eyes, and I stare at my lap. "I need to know, because I'm going to check you daily to make sure you aren't doing it anymore."
"No." I blurt out, gripping onto the side of the chair with one hand, clutching the water bottle with the other.
"It's either that, or I tell Billy and we admit you to a mental hospital." Paul replies firmly, his gaze never leaving me. "You should probably go there anyways, but I don't want to do that to you."
I stay silent, thinking my options over. Obviously, I don't want to go to a hospital, undoubtedly in Seattle away from everyone. I don't want to be alone.
With that thought, and seeing no other option, I stand up from the chair, and yank down my pants as fast as I was able to, being that they are wet skinny jeans.
"What are you-" Paul starts, but cuts off immediately when he sees the massacre on my thighs and hips.
My scars extend a little less than halfway down my thighs, overlapping thickly all the way up to my hips. They're angry and ugly, and I feel shame as Paul gazes at them. I jerk my arm out to grab the clothes lying on his lap, and yank them on over my partially wet undergarments.
"That's all of them." I say thickly, holding back unshed tears. I don't even know why I have to fight not to cry, but I do.
Paul is motionless for a long moment, and when I start to worry, he startles me by jumping out of his chair, and pulling me into a bone crushing hug. He lifts me off the floor, and positions me so that my legs are wrapped around his hips, my face borrowed into his shoulder.
I feel droplets fall into my hair, and realize with a jolt that he is crying. My automatic reaction is to hug him back tightly, and I don't stop myself. Again, I have hurt someone who cares deeply about me.
We stay like that long enough for my eyes to start drooping, exhaustion from everything that's happened today hitting me hard. Paul senses this, and starts walking.
"You can sleep in my bed," Paul says, and sets me down on a cushioned surface. "But before you do, I have difficult news for you."
"Okay." I murmur, already burrowing into his bed. It smells like him, and it fascinates me to realize that comforts me.
Paul turns, and rummages in his closet for a moment before pulling out a thick woven blanket. It seems to be handmade, with the woods of La Push painted on it. I look around the rest of his small room, and see that it's fairly tidy, something I wouldn't expect from Paul.
He lays the blanket on me, and sits gently next to me on the bed.
"Leah phased today," He starts, and it sounds as though there's a knot in his throat.
"Leah Clearwater?" I squeak out, ignoring the pain my throat brought me. "She phased?"
"Yes," Paul nods jerkily. "And the shock of her phase.. Well.. it cause Harry to have a heart attack."
I feel my blood run cold. No, that can't be. "Harry had a heart attack? He's okay, right?" I demand, sitting up from my spot.
Paul locks his eyes with mine, and I notice how tight they look. "Baby girl, I'm sorry but Harry didn't make it."
"No," I choke out, tears stinging my eyes and streaming down my face. "No, Harry isn't dead!"
"I'm so sorry." Paul murmurs, and pulls me into a hug. I hang on tight, tears spilling out of my eyes and down my face.
My heart aches, feeling as though it had been ripped from my chest. Harry was almost more of a dad than my own, and I already hadn't seen him in days because the Seth situation, and now he's gone. Harry is gone, Harry is dead, and I will never see him again.
I scream into Paul's chest, completely losing myself to my sorrow. He hugs me tight, running a hand through my hair, whispering condolences that make no difference to the sharp pain spearing through my heart. Nothing could bring Harry back, nothing could change that.
What was the last conversation I had with Harry? Oh, god, I don't even remember. I don't remember the last words I had spoke to him, the last words he spoke to me. I don't even remember the last time I saw him!
Pain tears through my chest, and my tears don't cease. They come in waves, and I lose myself to the tide.
Eventually, exhaustion overrides me, and at some point I end up falling asleep in Paul's arms.
Lizyeh2000- of course, and same to you!
yasminasfeir1- glad you enjoyed his POV! Hope you liked this update!
mckoolio- i am too! I'm so glad you like where this has gone, i always worry i'm going the wrong way, but these characters kind of just tell me what to do at this point. I actually, in the beginning, was going to have rayna know about twilight, but decided to save that plotline for a different story i'm working on!
choco-latte64- thank you! We'll find out soon how Seth feels.. And i'm excited to do more Paul and Rayna, i adore them! But rey has stuff she's gotta work through before we can get into some lovely scenes ;)
Guest- I'm glad!
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited so far! As always, leave me your thoughts on everything so far! reviews always make my day!
-theflyinggraysons