I do not own Twilight.
Bella
"You're late," the teacher snipped as I inched the door open.
"I know, I'm sorry I…" I trail off, face flushing bright red.
"Sit. Now, as I was saying…"
I stumble into the classroom and manage to crash into my seat. As quietly as I can, I pull out my books.
It had been a difficult morning. Exhaustion, which I am adamantly refusing to admit, is causing my body to go in slow motion. Not only is it taking forever but it's not responding to what I tell it to do correctly.
My inability to sleep meant that over the weekend I'd managed to catch up on a lot of work. Everything due for this week is done and printed ready to hand in. Thank goodness!
I just need to survive the lessons and hope I don't get given too much more work to do.
The lesson passes quickly, though my notes are non-existent. About halfway through I'd given up even trying to get something down. Hopefully I'll have enough time to go through the recording before next week.
"Collect last weeks work on the way out. Bella, a word please."
Looking up from my bad, I gulp. What have I done?
After finishing packing away my stuff, I walk up to the desk, trying to keep the fear off of my face.
I have to stand and wait because she isn't finished packing up the lesson. The waiting is not helping my stress levels.
Realizing she is going to be a while, I perch on one of the seats at the front and rub my temple where I can feel a headache starting to form. I really hope she will get on with this quickly, whatever it is she wants.
It can't be because I was late. If it were that she would have simply given me a talking to and let me on my way, not this had to be something more. As far as I am aware, I'm not failing – yet.
Maybe she'd noticed my lack of attention? That would be easy to clear up after showing her the recording.
I had started to fidget by the time she pulls up another chair and sit down. In her hand is a stack of papers.
"Sorry, I didn't expect to be so long, you don't have anywhere to be do you?"
I hesitate for a moment, this really doesn't sound good. "No, I've got time," I manage to stammer.
"Okay, well start off by taking a deep breath, you look as white as these papers."
Laughing slightly at being compared to paper instead of vampires, I let out a rush of air.
"I have last week's work here. Is something going on? This is nothing like what you would usually submit." She is trying to speak gently, but all I feel is an overwhelming feeling of defeat. "Ignoring the numerous errors, the entire work doesn't make any sense."
What do I say? I can hardly give the real reason; my ex-boyfriend may be off killing people. Neither can I brush it off as lack of effort, that wouldn't be right, besides I did try incredibly hard. No matter what I say she will find out that life is getting too much and I'm struggling to cope.
My brain is working hard to come up with some form of excuse, but it's coming up blank. I am definitely not known for being a good liar, she'll see through anything I try to say.
Feeling my cheeks heat up, I look down and mutter a quiet, "I'm sorry."
There isn't a reply for a long while. The longer I wait, the more my anxiety increases.
"Well, if you need to talk, you know we are all happy to listen. Admitting you need help isn't a sign of weakness. No one expects you to be indestructible. Promise me you'll think about it?" I nod at her, still looking down at the floor. "With regards to this work, I suggest you ditch this and start over. You can resubmit it next week."
"Thank you," my voice is defeated.
"You aren't alone, don't isolate yourself based on pure stubbornness."
Silently, I stand and leave the room deep in contemplation. Her words made me think about everything. My health, my family, my sort of not so family, school. Everything churned around in my brain faster than I could grab onto a tangible thought process.
The more I thought about my situation, the more I realized how much I'd overestimated my ability and I shouldn't have bothered trying. I'd made my decision that day to jump. By making that decision I was signing myself over to the consequences. It's my own fault, I shouldn't be complaining about the outcome.
Obviously, I can't continue like this. She'd told me I wasn't alone. She might be right, there are people I can ask for help, but there are again consequences of that. I can't even ask anyone's opinion, no matter who I ask will use it as evidence to drag me away from here.
My thoughts are torn. On the one hand I can't help thinking that maybe I should just give up trying. This obviously isn't my world. I should stop fooling myself into thinking I can somehow make it. I don't want to do that though. I've worked hard for this place, and I don't want to give up now. I also don't want to risk losing the Cullen's again.
Despite my determination to remain independent, they'd managed to work their way back into my life in such a way that I now can't imagine my life without them. It's exactly the position I didn't want to be in.
As the day progresses, I struggle more and more.
I can feel myself weaking with every minute and I'm on the verge of collapse. Complete physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. Logically I know this. I know that I need to stop. Something needs to change before anything bad happens.
I felt on a knife edge, precariously balanced between holding it together and having a complete breakdown.
Just after lunch, the Cullen's had tried to corner me. I knew from their words that they were worried but thankfully they must have got the message because they left me alone after that.
Somehow, I manage to survive my time on campus. Unwillingly, I'd had to ask some complete stranger to walk with me with to the bus stop because I couldn't orientate myself well enough through my brain fog. At this point, the only priority is to get home.
A massive sense of relief washes over me when I finally stagger through my bedroom door.
I lean back against it and allow myself to side down to the floor. I know it's a bad idea as the chances of me being able to get back up again are slim, but I don't care. Nothing matters right now. I'm here and I don't have to do anything.
My eyes, which had been becoming incredibly heavy, disobeyed my instructions to remain open and I feel my entire body slump into a fatigued mess.
I don't know how long I stayed there. I'd repeatedly cycled between consciousness and unconsciousness, my thoughts becoming more and more obscure as time went by. It is like being unattached from your body, looking down at yourself from above, an incredibly strange sensation.
At some point I'd distinctly heard my phone ringing, but despite my mental instructions to my body to move, I hadn't. Instead, I'd imagined myself answering the phone.
Starting to become aware of myself once again, I try to blink away the haze in my mind. It's as though someone has stuffed my brain with cotton wool or I'm trying to browse the web on a massively outdated computer.
As my awareness becomes clearer, the sensations from my body become clearer too. Experimentally, I bend my fingers inwards and stretch them out again.
The movement is much slower than usual, as though there is a delay between the message and response, but it happens. This small movement sparks the rest of my body into movement.
I push my arm away from myself onto the floor. It's like trying to move a lead weight. Heavy, labored, difficult. Pushing up from the ground, I heave myself up onto my knees with a massive grunt.
I pause, panting at the effort.
Determinately I resist the urge to drop back onto the floor in a heap.
Still breathing hard, I drag myself, one shuffle at a time, towards the bed.
I never knew something so simple could be so challenging. What had happened to me?
Reaching the bed, I drag myself up the side until I am half laying on it, half off.
Once again, I battle my eyes closing. This time failing miserably.
I'm waking up again, though this time I feel much more human. I won't pretend to be back to normal, my attempt at normal anyway, but at least I can move and think.
The most prominent thing on my mind right now is the angry beast growling in my stomach. The loud rumble is accompanied by a twisting sensation.
Swinging myself around slowly, so as not to cause head rush, I put my head in my hands and groan slightly. The small movement seems to have set off a ringing through my head.
With shaky limbs, I drag my bag closer and pull out my phone. I'd intended to check the time, but the large number of missed calls grabbed my attention first.
Damn it, they're from everyone. Charlie, Jake, Renee, Sue, even Carlisle.
It's only when I look at the time stamps that I realize why they would have been so worried. Six hours with no response, I'll be lucky if they aren't already on a plane over here!
As I start to absentmindedly scroll through the messages, my stomach roars again. Sighing, I send off a quick I'm okay text to the first person on the list and hope they pass it on to everyone else.
Unfortunately, that had been an unrealistic wish. Seconds after clicking send, the device is buzzing in my hands.
With an exasperated sigh, I answer.
"Bella, are you okay? What's going on? Why aren't you answering? Has something happened? We've been so worried…"
Alice.
I can feel my temper rising, maybe if she'd stop rambling at a million miles per hour, I'd be able to answer one of her questions.
She must have heard the displeasure in my strangled grunt because she stopped talking very suddenly.
"Thank you, Alice," I snap. "I'm fine."
"Why weren't you answering?" I want to feel bad at her small hurt tone, but I'm too irritated.
Put on the spot, I scramble to try and come up with some sort of excuse or explanation. There may as well have been a monkey brain inside my head. The rage of emotions inside me is creating a barrier against my ability to reason. Deciding to just brush off her comment, I snarl at her, "It's none of your business. Leave me alone."
I don't know why my words are so harsh; Alice hasn't really done anything wrong, but even now, I don't apologize. The sooner she leaves me alone, the sooner I can get on with sorting myself out. I do not need anyone fussing and bothering me while I try and get on with life.
They just want to help a voice in the back of my head says. I laugh lightly, whether in my head or out loud I don't know, but it's a joke. Maybe they do care. There is always a possibility. You don't really need them to care though. I'm more than capable on my own.
Then it occurs to me. They're trying to lull me into a false sense of security so they can find out everything that's been going wrong.
Everything is going wrong though, and I've already established that I'm a useless mess and don't have a way to get myself out of this awkward corner of life. Which would be the lesser evil; the Cullen's or everyone back in Forks?
In my mental raging, I'd completely missed that she'd started talking again. What she is now talking about, doesn't make sense without having know the previous information, but I can't exactly ask her to repeat herself without her working everything out.
I latch onto the only words that make sense. "Will you speak to Carlisle?"
"No!" I rage at her. "I won't speak to anyone, leave me the hell alone!"
Resisting the urge to throw it, I hang up the phone and place it on the bed next to me. I'm panting again, but this time in fury.
Anger is a good thing. It means you care about what happened enough to have an emotional response to it. The words of the councillor from all those months ago rings through my head. This time though, she is wrong.
I don't care. I won't care.
What am I even meant to be caring about? How can I care about something that I am unable to identify?
This is so stupid!
I know I need to calm myself down. I need to get a hold of my emotions before something happens.
Taking a deep, but incredibly shaky breath, I grip the bed sheets. The desire to rip them to shreds, or throw them, or better still burn them and everything else in this room is at an all time high.
Instead of calming, I'm becoming more jittery.
The world is moving too fast. Thoughts, ideas, accusations rushing through my head faster than I am able to identify each one. Only key words stand out. Alice. Work. Bus. Failure. Charlie. Vampires. Werewolves. Edward.
My breaths are no longer in forced slowness, they're coming rapidly and not successfully trapping enough air to provide my body with oxygen. It's a feeling I'm all too familiar with.
Even though my determination to keep everyone away from me out of utter terror, I wish I'm not alone. I want someone, anyone, to fight against me and refuse to leave. They won't come though. No one is safe.
Am I being paranoid? Are my fears founded?
So many questions flick through my mind adding to the chaos.
Against my hand, I feel my phone vibrate. Instantly my panic mixes with a new wave of fury. Despite my desire to not be alone. Despite all logic telling me to act differently. Despite everything in me saying no. I snatch the phone up, accept the call and bellow, "I don't need you Carlisle, or Alice, or anyone else. GO AWAY!"
The line is silent.
Not even a breath on the other end, not that I'd expect one.
The lack of response starts to dissipate my emotions. I don't know if I'm just exhausted, or if I'm actually finally calming from being able to yell at someone, but I don't like the feeling. I want them back. I don't want to calm down. I don't want them to make everything better. I want to be allowed to feel what I want to feel.
Why can't they leave me alone!
After what felt like an eternity of my loud, gasping breaths, I hear a very small voice.
"It's not Carlisle."
No, that voice isn't the smooth tone of a vampire, it's the rough tone of a middle-aged cop. Charlie.
Please review. So sorry for the delay, I've had a bad health crash and ran out of prewritten chapters. I'm not back to normal yet, so please do be patient.