Breaking Point-Chapter 3

Okay, if this isn't your first time looking at this story, I'm sure you're very confused.

I cut Peter out. He was weird. He didn't make sense. My plan for him didn't make sense. He had to go.

Chapters 1 and 2 are the same as before, but this chapter has been changed and Chapter 4 has been deleted. I am going to post a new Chapter 4 as soon as I can.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, good. Just keep reading.

I promise you that this story will keep getting better and better. The reason it is sort of without a plot is because the first chapter was orginally a one-shot. So I've sort of been blindly writing it since then, not knowing where I was going. Now I do, because of my brillant Twilight-obsessed friends. Edward will come in soon, don't give up on me.

As always, please message me with questions or comments.

Please review. If you are a nice person (or a writer yourself) you will review. It lets me know that people are actually reading the stuff that I spend countless hours creating. It's really important and nice and wonderful.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, Bella, or Edward. If anything, they own me.

I'm running. My mind and my body aren't working together; my mind isn't really working at all. But I'm running.

I'm thrashing through trees and ferns, over fallen logs and uplifted roots. The numbness is beginning to disappear and now I can feel the ground beneath my feet, and the crusted mud on my hands, and the thick, heavy humidity hanging in the air. I fall for what seems like the millionth time, my foot getting hooked under a low-growing vine. But after a moment of squirming viciously, I manage to stagger unsteadily back up towards the sky.

I'm moving so quickly that I can't really tell what I'm passing anymore. My eyes are tearing and my hair seems to be permanently extended behind me. The trees are blurring and turning misty, it's like they're being wrapped in blankets of fog. The vibrant green is smearing to grey—washing away all the color.

And the forest is silent. Soundless…as if there had never been any sound, ever. I place my hands up to my ears as I fall against a tree, and they're there. But the quiet feels unnatural.

Nothing matters to me now. I lash through a bush with thorns, and somehow the pain feels good. Refreshing. And each time go tumbling towards the forest floor, I become more aware of everything, and it's like my nerves have finally been unleashed—sending rapid signals up to my brain like wildfire, as if to make up for all the feeling I've lost. My mind is jumbled, confused, trying desperately to catch up with my body. My senses are hyperactive, but there's no thought of forest survival or initial plans anywhere. Nothing matters. Nothing.

Except that I am moving. I don't know where I am going, but I am moving, and I don't care. It's different from being at home, at school, at work…it's different—it's progress.

I can feel the wind smacking me senseless, but I do not care. It feels wonderful. I can see the grasses zipping by me, and it feels wonderful. I can feel the scrapes at my hands stinging me like knives, and it feels wonderful. The movement of it…I am going somewhere, finally.

Far, far off in distance, I hear a siren, echoing through the stillness. But I keep going.

My skin begins to burn again as I remember the nurses, and an involuntary shudder ripples through me. But I can't think. My mind is failing in it's quest to find the slightest clue of why their hands, their eyes…of why.

Because there's no room. None at all. My head is full of the wind, of the grass, of the misty, foggy air. It's impossible to think of anything or to feel anything but the endless forest. And I'm sucking it in like steam through a fan.

I feel free.

I stumble, slowing down just enough to turn my head and glance behind me. I can't see even the tiniest sliver of light from a break in the trees anywhere. Not behind me, or in front of me. Only above. Up above, past the trees, are faint patches of sky.

I am encased. Nothing can touch me here. Nothing. It's like I'm in a leafy, green dome. An indestructible dome.

I twist my head forward again and run as fast as I can. I can't remember the last time I took a breath, but my body isn't reacting. It's just moving. I can barely control my legs anymore, I have become so used to the feeling. My lungs are processing without oxygen. Without the one thing in the word it needs.

I feel so comfortable, so content, it's like I could just keep going forever. So I do. I just run, and run, and run, and the sun starts to set, and the air becomes thick, and the crickets begin singing.

Suddenly I hear the faint sound of a bubbling creek. The sound grows until I feel like I'm right upon it. And then a beautiful, crystal clear brook comes into my view.

I slow to a walk and stop beside it. I just stare at the water for a while, unmoving, watching the streams of water draw patterns over the smooth stones. The ripples are sliding past each other, smoothing along down around the curve, dancing. And the movement of it makes the creek seem like a thousand individual streams of water, only merging and sliding and drifting into one another until they are joined.

I lift my head to look through the trees, and for the first time in what seems like days, there is light. Rays of melting sunshine are reaching in, kissing the grasses before me. I step forward, and I can feel the warmth radiating onto my ankles.

My legs are carrying my forward, towards the sunset, and I let them. It seems like I am barely moving, like a cloud is flying me into the light, but then I am there. The trees have vanished and loom tall behind me, fringing the dark forest. I close my eyes and breathe, feeling light and airy and wonderful and whole. And then I lift my head.