Disclaimer to Stephanie Meyer.

A/N: A few things: 1. I'm very sorry for not posting regularly. I promise that I will finish, it just might take some time... 2. Thank you (as always) to everyone who reviews, follows, favorites, etc. The notifications are always the highlight of my day. 3. This chapter touches on more intense thoughts of suicide, so please be cautious if this topic is sensitive to you.

With love, -M

Chapter Ten

Running to Forks proved to be more difficult than following Esme and Carlisle had been. I needed to stop frequently to check my surroundings and I occasionally ran in the wrong direction. I hunted heavily, overindulging myself on the blood of animals.

I also kept the bloodied rag with me at all times. I inhaled it at each stop, practicing the control I would need to be around Charlie. No risks could be taken if I were to be near him. As long as I practiced, I would be able to protect Charlie from anything- including myself.

A few hours later, I was nearly to Forks. All I had to do was cross the reservation and get through town before I would reach Charlie's. It would take me longer to go through the woods, but I had no desire to return to the site of the accident. Today it would be too hard, and I needed all the strength I could muster.

Once I reached the reservation, my stomach twisted from the painful memories of the accident and everything that had followed shortly after. And the deeper I traveled into the reservation, the more unpleasant my feelings towards them grew. A thick, heavy, and extremely repellent stench hung in the air of the woods. It was something I had never noticed before. Sympathy rolled through me as I could now see why the Cullens had so vehemently desired not to hunt there.

The Cullens.

There was a harsh pain that accompanied any thought regarding the Cullens. Their existence in my life still held a part of me. When they left, when he left, it was as if they took that part of me with them. And when memories of the Cullens surfaced, I mourned not only for losing them, but for losing that part of myself.

All of the Cullens had grieved some loss of themselves when they became a vampire. Rosalie mourned the loss of her mortality, the impossibility of having a family of her own. Carlisle mourned the loss of a father, becoming the very thing his father sought to destroy. And of course he had mourned the loss of his soul. Something that no one felt he'd actually lost, yet pained him no less.

But as horrific as the events leading up to my transition were, the loss I'd felt most deeply had been from their departure months before. Before becoming a vampire, I mourned the part of me that felt as though it had belonged with others. Never in my life, even among my own family, had I ever felt so at ease. And when the Cullens left, they took that part of me with them. Transitioning into this immortal life did not bring new things to mourn, only more time to mourn what I had already lost.

With shaking hands, I pulled out the rag again.

I need to focus.

For Charlie.

Trees blurred beside me as I ran. I was anxious, prepared only physically to be around Charlie. My chest ached thinking of watching Charlie's life from the sidelines. Nothing more than a shadow in his life, I would be forced to watch it go on. I would no longer be able to comfort my father, celebrate his victories, give comfort after a hard day at work, or even sit with him in comfortable silence. One day my father would die, and I would then be truly left on this Earth alone.

My chest twisted uncomfortably as the briefest waves of understanding washed over me. He had warned me of the consequences to this choice of life, he warned me of the pain I would have to face in watching my loved ones grow old without me.

But this is not the same!

When I had begged for this life, I had been prepared to face these challenges with the caveat that he would be alongside me-

No.

I couldn't think of any of that right now.

I was only a few hundred feet away from the house when I stopped running.

The stench.

The stench was strong, stronger than it had been on the reservation.

What is it?

Standing there, I could hear leaves rustling beside me. An animal- no, a few animals, were heading this way. I could hear their feet heavy against the earth as the scent became stronger.

I turned around to face the approaching animals. These poor creatures had no idea what they were running towards. It was good timing, really, I could hunt a few as an added layer of precaution for Charlie.

Abruptly the running stopped, and the revolting scent felt suffocating. My eyebrows furrowed as I stared in the direction I had thought they were coming from. Why had they stopped? And what the hell was that horrid smell?

And just as I thought of turning around, the first one stepped out from behind a thick collection of brush. It stood nearly 8 feet tall, its paws larger than my head. The animal made no movement, it only stared at me with immense intensity.

My body froze, understanding.

"The Volturi were seeking… others of a different kind…"

I understood now why the Volturi had come to Forks. These were the wolves. And they were no ordinary wolves, these wolves were a threat.

I took a small step back, trying to create some distance between myself and the wolf that stood before me. He did look threatening, but appeared calm. He stood tall, glaring down at me, but I saw no plotting in his eyes. He was alert, defensive maybe, but not aggressive. He just… stared at me.

But he wasn't alone. I could hear, and smell, more behind the brush.

The wolf took a step in my direction and lowered its head to the ground. I knew nothing of these wolves, but I felt no malice from the animal.

After a few moments, I began approaching the wolf with my hand extended in greeting. His eyes raising to meet mine, he placed his cheek slowly in my palm. He reeked, but his fur was soft and warm. I threaded his fur between my fingers and gently moved to scratch behind his ear.

"You're not so scary now, are you?" I said, moving my hand down his neck to scratch below his jaw.

For the briefest moment, the wolf tensed. And then without warning the other wolves lunged from behind the brush. A large black wolf reached with its paw to slice at me. The other wolves circled around the brown wolf and crouched into a snarl.

I darted back to avoid the black wolf's thrash. I was careful not to run, as I didn't want to lead them to Charlie. But there was no way I could fight off all of these wolves myself. The best shot I had was to lead them away from the house and try to lose them in the process.

Just then the brown wolf, which I could now tell was the largest, jumped in front of me to face the others. He bent down low to the ground and growled angrily at the wolves.

Shock kept me in place.

What is going on?

The black and brown wolf were now head to head, each of them growling at the other.

The black wolf moved to bite at the brown, but missed only by a second as the brown wolf jumped to lunge on top of the other. The black let out a shrill yelp and barked at one of the other wolves still near the brush.

It was then that the other wolves moved towards me. Without thinking, I jumped up into the closest tree and began leaping between branches to get away. A smaller and lighter wolf pounced on a tree that I had landed on, causing the tree to fall to the ground and crush everything below it. Before it could land, I jumped onto another and pushed myself off its branches to climb higher.

I could hear the black and the brown wolf running now, they had caught up with the others. I continued jumping between the trees, trying to lose them before they could reach me.

I knew the wolves outnumbered me. And once they knocked me to the ground, it wouldn't be long before my last breath would leave my body.

Had these wolves found me a few days ago, hell- maybe even a few hours ago, I might have not even run. I probably would have just let the inevitable happen. But Charlie- they were too close to his house. I couldn't let them get anywhere near him.

This is why I had to come back.

I could hear the wolves below me, the brown one still barking and thrashing at the others. In a few miles, the trees would thin and it would be easier for the wolves to catch up and surround me. I needed to find terrain they couldn't follow me through-

The river.

My saving grace for the second time today. I grabbed a branch to swing myself into a sharp turn right. If I could get to the river East of here, I may be able to lose them. Eventually I would have to plan a route back to Charlie's. Carlisle had said the Cullens hadn't had issues with the wolves here, but now that they were gone- what were they capable of? I would have to get my father away from Forks as soon as possible. He would have to quickly get over the shock of me being alive, I needed to keep him alive.

I was almost to the river. The wolves had figured out my plan and were lunging more forcibly against the bases of the trees. The closer we would get to the river, the thinner the trees would become. The wolves would have a small window with a strong advantage. If I couldn't time this perfectly, Charlie would be left to defend himself.

It was then that I heard the echo of the water flowing from the river. I was close, and they knew it too. A few of the wolves ran ahead of the others, positioning themselves at the edge of the cliff ready to block my next movement.

Damn it!

I was only a few leaps away from them. With a few less wolves right at my heel, I decided to climb higher in the tree I was already in to give myself a better shot at making it into the river.

The tree shook as the remaining wolves hurled themselves at the base of the tree. I didn't have time to make it much higher. I needed to move. I would have to risk the wolves at the edge of the cliff and hope I could jump high enough for them not to block my path.

All of the wolves lined at the edge of the cliff as I landed in the last tree. My fingers dug into a branch as I willed all of my strength into my limbs. In one fluid motion, I jumped out of the tree and aimed for the river. If I could just make it past the ledge of the cliff, I could land in the river and lose the wolves.

As my body arched over the space between the treeline and the cliff's edge, I thought I could make it. It would be close, but there was too much distance between myself and the wolves on the ground for them to stop me now.

I did it.

Or so I thought.

With remarkable strength, one of the wolves jumped into the air and nipped at the fabric on my pants. The wolf barely jumped the height required to make contact, but it was enough to ruin my projectile. I landed, very ungracefully, just past the wolf who had caught my leg. Not even a second had passed before the black wolf was on top of me.

We were only inches from the edge of the cliff now. The wolf pressed a paw into my chest and let out a deep growl. The weight of him was too much for me to push off, I was cornered. Just as I had been with James and Jane.

"Please! Stop!" The screams left me before I understood the words themselves.

The black wolf just growled and showed more teeth. He howled, a deep howl that shook the leaves in the forest behind the others. Anger fueled my muscles and I managed to kick the wolf hard in the stomach. It hadn't been enough to push the animal off me, but he cried and raised his paw to strike.

Just then, the brown wolf appeared from behind the treeline and ambushed the black. The black wolf rolled off of me and now the brown wolf now stood defensively between the two of us. The other wolves rose to their feet, circling the three of us.

At any movement from the black wolf, the brown countered and blocked his maneuver. I was too stunned to move, confused and thankful to not be dead. I could only watch as the other wolves got closer. Why had this brown wolf protected me? I wasn't sure. But now I couldn't leave it to defend for itself.

I started to stand up when the black wolf tried to lunge for me. Again, the brown wolf stood between us and pushed him back closer to the others. I didn't know what to do. Even with the brown wolf's help, the other wolves still outnumbered us. There was no way to get us out of this.

I started to stand again when the brown wolf snapped its head back to yelp at me. I jumped back and raised my hands to his eye level.

The brown wolf fully turned and began walking towards me. I didn't move or dare to breathe. I only watched as the massive wolf approached. Just as before, I felt no malice from the creature. Only… pain. The other wolves took advantage of his distraction and began circling us again.

Once more, the black wolf growled from behind the brown. He was ready to attack again. And this time, he would have help from the others.

One last time, I began to stand when the brown wolf jumped towards me and pushed me off the edge of the cliff. My body tumbled against thick brush and rocks before splashing forcefully into the safety of the river for the second time that day.

…

I let the river submerge my body until I had no doubt I was far enough away. The wolves wouldn't be able to survive the fall from the cliff, but that didn't mean they wouldn't wait down stream.

Swimming against the current, I pulled myself up onto a sun soaked bank. I was on my hands and knees, forcing breaths in and out of my lungs. I couldn't hear any indication that the wolves were nearby, but I needed to be careful. There was no way I would make it out of something like that again ever.

But I will have to. I have to get to Charlie.

I tipped my head back to stare into the grey clouded sky. Charlie. I needed to get him out of Forks. Aside from the shock he would have to endure from seeing me alive, it would be difficult to convince him that we needed to leave. Much less that the reason we needed to leave was because of werewolves. But maybe once he saw me, he would know something's different. Maybe it could be enough to convince him.

But none of this would matter if I couldn't get to Charlie.

I stood and began walking.

I needed to make a plan to get to Charlie's without putting myself directly in their path. Obviously the woods behind the house were out of the question. I would have to go through town. I looked down at my torn clothing and frowned at the absence of the blood soaked cloth. I must have dropped it near Charlie's. Not only did I not have the cloth, but my clothes were completely ruined. I looked like something from a horror movie.

It couldn't matter. Time was ticking.

I started running up the bank to jump to the edge of the cliff. Somewhere near here, there would be a thin stretch of forest that I could travel to. No doubt, the less time I spent in the woods, the better. A thin highway on the opposite side of the forest would lead straight to Forks. If I was careful, I could run along the highway near the treeline. I would be able to hear or smell the wolves if they got near, but make up for time lost with my speed.

Once I got to the thin stretch of trees, I climbed and jumped between trees just to be safe. Soon after, I could hear the distant mummer of cars miles away on the highway. I jumped down from the tree and began running, wasting no time to try and think of a better plan.

I need to get to Charlie.

It was nearly dusk, so once I made it to town I would be able to travel fairly decently. I would make sure no one saw me, walk through the more deserted parts of town, I would hold my breath. The highway would lead me to the east side of town and if I played my cards right, it would only take me 5, maybe 10, minutes to get to my fathers.

I slowed my pace, I was in Forks now.

I stopped to take the last deep breath I would allow from my body. I needed to save Charlie, but I couldn't endanger the lives of everyone else.

As fresh and humid air filled my lungs, a new- but extremely familiar scent- overtook me. Shock echoed through my body and my muscles shook with fear.

Why is he out here? Am I sure I can do this?

Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing at the edge of the cemetery staring at my father.

Charlie was standing with one hand gripped on top of a headstone. He was silent, motionless. Only the shallow inhale and exhale of his breath reached my ears. There was evident pain in each of his features. His eyes were sulken, his mouth curved into a deep resting frown with wrinkles more sharply defining his features.

This was not the father I had left nearly 2 months ago. My improved eyesight could not account for all the differences that plagued his appearance. My father was in mourning.

I stood and watched my father stare at the grave. I didn't dare move, terrified to see his expression if he saw me standing in the treeline. The silence that had filled the cemetery was sharply cut off as my father began choking back sobs. Tears filled his eyes as his grip on the head stone tightened. He fell to his knees, resting his head against the newly laid dirt. My father cried, hyperventilating between his cries.

I gripped onto the nearest branch, snapping it immediately in two. More than anything, I wanted to go and comfort my father. My body jerked as I fought the instinct to move to his side. I wanted to, I wanted to go to him so badly. But I couldn't.

I can't.

The feeling of urgency to protect my father subdued. My father would be okay, he was safe. He didn't need me.

I would only bring him more pain.

Just then, Billy Black approached my father from behind and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Charlie released his grip on the headstone to hold Billy's hand. Slowly, he nodded and stood. And without even a glance in my direction, my father drove away.

A few minutes went by before I could move.

It was one thing to know someone was in pain. It was one thing to imagine that pain. But to see it, to see the grief drowning someone in real time, it was pure torture. However long I would live on this Earth, there was no way I could forget the scene that had just been forced upon me in this graveyard.

Without realizing, I started walking over to the newly placed grave. From where I had been standing, I couldn't see whatever was written. I wanted to stop myself, I didn't want to see this, but my feet ignored my brain as I turned to read the engraved stone.

Bella Swan

September 13, 1987 - February 14, 2006

"And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees,

just as things grow fast in movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning

over again with summer." - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

"The Great Gatsby…" I whispered.

And at the base of the headstone, among a few piles of wilted flowers, was one fresh set of purple carnations.

Sorrow sank me to my knees. I was dead. I was staring at my own gravestone, standing on whatever they had buried. I had known that my human life was over, but the finality of seeing my own grave crushed the last bit of life I had been clinging to.

I was alone. I was dead.

Holding my head in my hands, I sat there and stared at the flowers. The purple flowers. The last gift I would ever receive from my father.

I thought that if I sat there long enough, one of the wolves would find me and finish what they had started. I didn't need to be here to protect Charlie. They weren't a threat to humans.

They were trying to protect them.

And I would let them, because it would make no difference to anyone.

Still on my knees, my hands pressed into the soil, I screamed. I screamed without regard of consequences. I screamed for the loss of my life, the loss of my father, the loss of everyone I had ever known. I screamed for the pain that I had caused people, for the sacrifices others had made for me. I screamed for the torture I had endured.

I screamed for my end.

And I screamed and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed.

Until someone shouted my name.

A/N: I know, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. It's about the journey, not the destination, right?