After I showered that night, I did something I hadn't done in years. I stood in the girl's bathroom, in the middle of the night, quite secure in the thought that no one would be interrupting me. I let the towel fall to the floor and I did an inventory.

I've read books, seen movies, heard people talk about getting older and doing this – about taking stock of their lives as it shows on their bodies – how they've lived reflected in their skin, their knees and elbows, their eyes.

What I saw wasn't pretty.

In the mirror, eyes looked back that didn't really focus – they looked far away. I saw dark circles, so purple they were almost black from fatigue that I continued to ignore. Anymore I only slept when it became evident that I would simply collapse while walking if I didn't let my eyes close. It was the only way to stave off nightmares, dreams, uncontrolled thoughts of Edward. Thoughts recycled in my unconsiouseness of Alice, of Jasper and Emmett and Carlisle and Esme and Rosalie. Of Jacob. Of home.

My mouth was pale and my bottom lip was chapped. I touched it gingerly, and realized it was from where I bit and chewed on it – I had scraped away layers of epidermis that were trying to repair themselves in bits and pieces that were torn away again. It was a red, irritated spot – one that I never realized stung until just now.

I was still a little squishy around the edges – Edward had said he liked the soft bits of my body, and Jacob was always poking me to elicit a reaction. I poked myself just below my ribs, and I realized my finger didn't sink nearly as much as it used to. My bones jutted out a little bit – it wasn't appealing.

On my neck, near my collarbone, was a yellowish bruise, the last of a hickey from Joseph.

I realized I never once thought of Joseph as my boyfriend. I wondered what it was that we were – I'd never cared to define it before. It made me smile a little when I thought of how he would be frustrated that I even attempted to do such a horrendous thing as give definition to an interpersonal relationship.

But he didn't fulfill my needs – he simply used my body when I allowed him to.

So he wasn't a boyfriend. Not really. Emotionally, we were worlds apart. And I never thought it bothered me before now. I realized that I wasn't stringing him along like I'd done with Jacob – I had no emotional investment in this, and I assumed Joseph didn't either.

Jacob. Joseph. JacobJoseph. jacobjosephjacobjoseph.

I used people. I wasn't whole anymore, so I used other people to feel alive.

I let out a laugh in the empty bathroom, and it echoed off the walls.

Edward had made a vampire out of me after all.

I sucked the life out of others to survive.

# # # # #

The next Saturday, I went to the closest Target and I used the money for that week's cigarettes on a new top. Something not black. The Saturday after that, I did the same. I spent my cigarette money on clothes, so there would be none left for menthol Marlboros.

I quit cold turkey. It was easier than I expected it to be.

And instead of staying on campus for the summer again, I packed up my little hand-me-down Sentra (dark blue, not red) and went home. Charlie wasn't expecting me, and I swear he almost cried. I had no hickeys to hide, my lip was healing, and I only looked like I hadn't slept for a year instead of nearly four - but it was a start.

# # # # #

We sat at the table, the only sound was of forks scraping against plates through piles of instant potatoes, and corn being hurried around chicken breasts.

"So. Any plans for the summer?"

He tried to sound unconcerned, but it seemed that seeing myself a little clearer also made others a little sharper too. I could tell he was worried as hell.

I took a sip of my milk – which I hadn't realized I missed until last week when I'd had my first cold glass in a really really long time. "No. I haven't decided yet. I'll have to get a job, or something. I gave up my job at the Student Center for the summer to come home."

"What did you do at the Student Center?"

I stared. Had I never told Charlie what I was doing every summer I didn't come home?

"Um, mostly making up work orders for the room assignments – lofting beds, lights that need repairing, window latches that need tightening. That sort of thing." I took a bite of my potatoes. "I answered phones a little bit, but not much. They basically just let me type up the work orders." I chased down the potatoes with another sip of milk.

"Well I'm sure the Newtons would be glad to have you back – they're always hurting for summer help these days."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You should ask Mrs. Newton. I'm sure she'd love to see you."

There was silence as he looked at his plate, and cut his chicken with the side of his fork.

"Dad, I'm not going to see Mike. I'm not going to see anyone. I came home, but it was just to get away, okay? I'm not looking for significance in my summer. In fact, I would rather this summer stayed entirely insignificant."

He nodded, as though he was with me the entire time. "Of course, of course, I meant nothing of the sort." He drank his milk like some people drank beer for courage.

"Jacob's home for the summer."

"Dad." I looked at him, and he couldn't hold my stare.

"Okay, okay."

We ate the rest of dinner in silence.

# # # # #

I got my job back at Newton's. Charlie was right – Mrs. Newton was ecstatic.

So I spent every day, six hours a day, stocking shelves with carbiners and reorganizing the hiking boots and stamping fishing licenses. I split the shift with a high schooler with braces. I'd never seen her before, and realized that she might never have been at Forks High when I was there.

It made me feel a little old.

I tried not to think about everything else I associated with growing old.

And the fact that I continued to, while some people out there were seventeen forever.

# # # # #

It was August when my Sentra died.

I suppose it had been on its way out since I bought it off a lawn for eight hundred dollars before I left for Seattle, but I was still a little sad to see it go.

I took a day off work at Newton's, and I told Charlie I was going to Dowlings, to see if he had any decent used cars on the lot.

"There's a garage out by the reservation that usually has two or three – and the guy that runs it is probably a better mechanic."

"Yeah?" I asked, pulling on my coat.

Charlie nodded, his attention on his coffee and newspaper. "Of course, if that fails too, you can always go out to one of the dealerships and look at something out there."

"I don't want to steal your car all day, Dad."

"Well I don't want you making hasty decisions either," he said, and turned in his chair to face me. "You still sure you don't want me to come along?"

I actually smiled. "Yeah, Dad, I'm good. Big kid now, remember? I know when someone's trying to pull one over on me."

He smiled back at me. "Go get 'em, kid." He winked at me, and I think he was trying to impersonate Humphrey Bogart. I couldn't tell, and just left with a short laugh, jingling his keys in my hand.

I pulled the cruiser out of the driveway just as some deputy I didn't recognize pulled in to pick my father up.

I drove towards the reservation, figuring I could check there first, and appease Charlie, then go down to Dowlings and see what my real options were.

Pulling into the small garage, simply named "La Push Garage", I parked the cruiser and shut the door, and wandered over to a small line of four cars and a Chevy Bronco with windows chalked in bright green with prices that all claimed "OBO" with lots of exclamation points.

I was examining a little grey Neon, and trying to remember if Leigh had said her sister's Neon did really good on the icy roads or if it had been really bad.

"Something I can help you with Miss?"

I turned around, meaning to ask if they had anything with all-wheel drive, but I never got the words out.

"Jake," I said, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hi Bells," he said breathily.

We just stood there, six feet apart, smiling at each other. I started to get a little headache that really meant a muscle ached in my neck, and wondered if it was because I hadn't smiled for this long in...a long time. And seeing him didn't hurt in my chest anymore. That only made me smile just a little more.

"If you want a car, I've got a little red Volkswagon that needs a loving home," he said with a grin, wiping his hands on his coveralls.