"You're not good for me."
"Not good enough for you," I responded.
I wanted to be.
As Sam set my limp form in Charlie's arms, I wondered if I'd ever be able to move on. My mind whirled fiercely at the possibility of everything being untrue. Did vampires truly exist? I rubbed my wrist, feeling the marks left behind. It had to be real.
"Does anyone have a jacket?" Charlie yelled. Although my body shivered, I didn't feel cold. But once the weight of a fleece jacket pushed down onto my chest, I felt calm enough to close my eyes.
I woke to hushed tones, so soft I'd probably not notice the company. Yet, as if my soul felt incomplete, I jerked upright in case Edward had come back.
"She's up," someone alerted Charlie before he came rushing in. The bright lights grew behind him as the door widened. I flinched with the signs of an oncoming headache. Someone, maybe Sam, closed the door again.
"You scared the hell out of me kid." His arms wrapped around me, his beard scruffing the side of my cheek. I don't remember the last time we stood this close. The last time I'd been hugged had been on my eighteenth birthday before Jasper lost control. Edward didn't have facial hair, my mind reminded me, as if I needed reassurance.
"Why were you in the woods, Bells? It's not safe there." He finally broke away, holding onto my arm as if I'd float away. I hated seeing the sheer panic reflected in his eyes.
"I wasn't alone, I was with–" my mouth struggled to form the word. I pushed down a lump in my throat. Thankfully, Charlie finished for me.
"Edward? But where'd he go? Did he leave you there?" his tone wasn't particularly angry, but I knew it would be. How could I admit that he in fact had left me there? How could I prove that it was for my betterment, that he thought he was helping me?
"The Cullens moved out of Forks this morning," Sam provided from the doorway. I had expected him to give us privacy, but I guess it makes sense he'd have stuck around. He found me afterall, crumpled over the sprawling roots of the forest floor.
"He was saying goodbye," I managed to say through clenched teeth. A part of me felt relieved that my sadness had evolved to anger.
Charlie muttered something about his gun before storming out of the room. I met Sam's gaze at the door, noting the confusion, before he promptly followed Charlie out.
Once the quiet hit me, my thoughts barreled in. Could Alice see me now? Or had she stopped looking out for my future? Maybe she had as part of the clean break. I guess my friendship with her couldn't withstand–his absence.
I slept that night with a fit of nightmares. Only when Charlie shook me awake did my throat throb with over usage. I hoarsely apologized, but Charlie wouldn't take my sorry's.
"I'm right here," he'd say before plopping onto the chair in the corner of my room. I offered him the other side of the bed, but he joked that with my flying limbs, he'd be safer elsewhere. It was an honest attempt to make me laugh, but I couldn't get my lips to turn upward. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind.
The following mornings all followed the same patterns. I'd wake at the crack of dawn, afraid to see the images before my closed lids. They were mostly the same.
I'd become significantly small in stature while the Cullens grew to enormous heights. As they loomed over, their feet too close to stomp over me, I'd yell as loud as I could to get their attention. They were walking away, leaving me behind. I'd try to catch up to them, but I could only run in place. Frustrated, I'd fall to my knees, squeezing the twigs until slight tears formed around my palms.
Suddenly the woods around me would turn dark, eerie growls sounding against the overhead leaves. Once a whoosh came from behind, I knew I'd been found–just by the wrong vampires. These ones didn't care to feed on animals rather than humans. Instead their freezing touch grasped me with enough force to break bones, the crunch too similar to the pounding steps of the Cullen family's departure. A flutter of leaves flew by as I gave out my last breath.
"Bella?" a familiar voice spoke. My heart thudded with anticipation, but once my eyes opened, I couldn't help the sigh of disappointment. Jacob sat by my bedside. His hair was longer and ruffled, looking worse for wear. Yet, his limbs seemed to have grown since the last time I saw him. He looked older, if that were possible. I don't know how much time has passed.
"What are you doing here?" my voice came out gruff, and at the knowing look in Jacob's eyes, I shied away. I was wearing the same outfit I had been wearing that day, too afraid to wash it or to have someone else throw it in the laundry for me. I didn't want the last remnants of–his existence to fade away.
It was all I had left since upon returning to my room, everything he'd gifted me had been gone. It'll be as if I were never here. Why couldn't he understand that that's what hurt me most? I wanted to believe that he knew best, but now I wasn't so sure.
"I'll try not to take offense at that," he chuckled, but it didn't meet his eyes, "I thought we could hang out. You know, it's been a while since we've spent some time together." He shrugged like it were any other day and not the most excruciating time of my life. His indifference sparked something in the pit of my stomach, an inkling of anger. I hadn't felt it since speaking to Charlie the first day after–he left.
"Did Charlie send you here?" I replied bitterly, though I instantly regretted it. Even if Charlie had sent Jake here, it was with pure intentions.
"No," Jake laughed and nudged my shoulder. With my recent lack of appetite and sleep, I was too weak to stay upright. Thankfully, the headboard behind me caught my fall. "I'll have you know that I happen to enjoy your presence." The words, "unlike Edward," were left unspoken but I felt it all the same.
I looked out the window to see that Spring had come. Flowers bloomed across the yard. The world had continued on–without me.
"I guess I could use some fresh air."
"Perfect!" Jake jumped into action, grabbing some fresh clothes from my drawers and placing them on the end of my bed. I didn't particularly feel comfortable at him selecting a bra and underwear for me to wear, but I didn't have the energy to say otherwise. "Now I'm not saying you stink, Bella, but–" he extended the word while giving me the side eye. If it were before, I'd laugh at his dramatic antics.
"But I do, I know," I looked down to the hands in my lap. I guess even if I removed the clothes, that didn't mean I had to wash it just yet. Maybe I could put it in a plastic bag in my closet. Then, nobody would find it but me.
"I'll wait in the living room. Take your time. I know all about women's beauty regimens," he flailed his arms out. "Though I guess you wouldn't need to do all that since you're already so beautiful," he winked at me before closing the door behind him.
Although I felt flattered–in the way friends feel when receiving platonic compliments–I couldn't help but wonder if that was the future I'd succumb to. I'd eventually be on the receiving end of flirting at a bar, or in my case, a park or library. Maybe someone would see me from afar and approach me. Although pleasant, I couldn't help the anguish pouring from my heart because I didn't want those experiences. I didn't want to have nice moments with potential suitors. It felt traitorous and frustrating.
I removed the clothes from my body with more vigor than I had in days. Certainly out of breath, I shoved them in a spare shoebox and practically threw them into my closet. Bare and exposed, I slowly inched toward the ground. I couldn't handle the pressure of standing up. I didn't want to step foot beyond this door to see the faces of those around me. Would they pity me? I clutched my stomach as a bit of pride surely reddened my face.
I'm not sure how long I spent laying on the carpet floor. All too similar to when–he left, I decided I didn't want Sam Ulley to find me again. The lights outside had dimmed considerably. Maybe Jake had gone home already, but the thought of that hurt, too.
Finally rising to my feet, I stretched my muscles before putting on a robe and opening the door. There were noises beyond the hall, coming from the living room. A sports game seemed to be playing on the television and Charlie's voice could be heard arguing with Jake over some athletic semantics. None turned while I walked out, perhaps my steps were too silent, but once I reached the bathroom, I could've sworn I saw Jake's head turn my way.
I shut the door quickly, my breaths coming in fast. I made it out of my room, I sighed. Before the glee could continue, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair had too many tangles, the skin beneath my eyes a deep purple, and the indents of my cheeks more hollow than usual. I looked like death, something–he swore to prevent.
Turning away, I turned on the shower to the hottest temperature. I'd hoped the steam would cover the mirrors so I wouldn't have to see myself. Thankfully, I was right. The shower felt nice. I had accumulated a lot of dirt from the forest floor. Seeing the brown swirl around the drain felt relieving.
Once dressed, I trekked down the stairs. The tv was off and I instantly wondered if I had taken too long. I couldn't hear any voices.
"Over here," Jake yelled from the kitchen. Walking there, I saw his hands knuckle deep in some sort of ground beef mixture. At the look on my face, he chuckled. "I'm not the best cook, but I figured I could make some meatballs."
"Do you need any help?" I walked toward the uncut vegetables and grabbed a knife. Jake laid his hand over mine, almost touching the scar on my wrist.
"Allow me," he said. When I turned to face him, I realized our faces were rather close. I could make out the lighter browns in his eyes and the way his nostrils flared. I should move, my mind spoke, but my limbs didn't obey.
He broke away first.
"Plus, it never hurts to practice," he continued to speak. "And everyone deserves to take a break now and then." He made round figures before plopping them onto the hot pan.
"Mmm," was all I could think to respond. "Where's Charlie?"
"My dad called him, said something about claiming a lost bet."
"Over the game you guys were watching?"
Jake peered over his shoulder to look at me. "Spying on me, Bella?"
"Absolutely not!" I retorted too quickly to be true.
"And why not? I'm rather good to look at," he puffed his chest out in confidence.
"Wouldn't want your ego to get any bigger, of course," I felt good about my comeback. But when Jake looked at me again, he paused. I instinctively reached up to my face in case I had something there.
"What?"
"You smiled," he said in reverent awe. This time my cheeks definitely turned pink, and I couldn't face him head on.
"Yeah, so?" I said.
"Do it again," he said with more energy, though still serious. It didn't feel like a game anymore. He meant it–and that felt worse. Luckily, the steam had grown too wide in the air.
"Jake," I pointed, "the meatballs are burning."
"Damn," he muttered before anxiously flipping them. We returned to a comfortable silence for a bit longer.
After eating our meal, we went to sit on the front porch. It was dark now, but the stars overhead provided enough light to look around. Jake seemed restless. His leg kept bouncing over the worn floorboards. I half wondered if he'd tear a hole in the wood.
"Spit it out, Jake," I told him. His stress had been rubbing off on me and I already had enough to go around.
"What happened?" he asked, and I froze. I knew people would wonder, maybe even gossip. But I had hoped nobody would have been courageous enough to flat out ask me. Because lies are easier to dismiss, but the truth, it stung.
You're not good for me, I heard then, an exact replica of his voice. Sucking in a breath, I almost began to hyperventilate. If not for keeping my eyes wide open, I looked to the yard. He's not there, I told myself. He isn't here.
"Isn't it obvious?" I hoped he'd accept my deflection. He could come up with whatever answer he wanted.
"I want to hear it from you."
"What difference does it make?" my throat began to close. "It wouldn't change anything–talking about it," I shook my head, "It wouldn't–"
"Make him come back?" he said with so much disgust that my head whipped around. Looking at him, I wanted nothing more than to wipe that expression off his face. How dare he? He didn't even know—him. But all too quickly the fire left my system and I slumped back on the chair, looking toward the yard again.
Sounding disappointed, Jake went on. "Don't let him have this effect on you. You're not dependent on him."
"And so who should I be dependent on? You?" I laughed, but it scratched my vocal chords. I didn't mean the words I was saying, I just wanted him to feel the same way I was feeling. I wanted him to hurt the way he–hurt me.
"And what would be so bad about that?" He stood from his chair. His voice didn't wobble like mine. He was stronger than me. They were all stronger than me.
Not good enough for you.
I lost the will to respond, feeling my muscles tighten. Jake stood there for a while, his expression hard before seeing that I really wouldn't give in. It was then that he stormed off, his boots pounding against the steps before falling numb on the grass. His bike sounded before he roared into the distance. Only then did I finally open my mouth.
"Edward didn't want me."