Emily: Bittersweet
It's funny, in a cruel, ironic sort of way. No one ever thinks of how I feel. It's all about Leah's bitterness, or Sam's guilt… Even though I'm the center of it all, the root, the cause. I'm guilty, of course. It's all my fault; I'm responsible for Leah's pain. I'm also bitter, though, and not just because I ruined their lives. I never had a choice. No choice in who I love, in how I live… As much as I hate to whine, it's not fair. They'd all be happier without me. So much love, but it's not fair.
Jake/Nessie: Inverse
They're nature, moon and sun, fire and ice. Opposites, burning, freezing, clashing, beautiful. A battle rages inside of her, too: Born a twisted paradox, raised by vampires, with a werewolf for a lover. She looks at their intertwined fingers, sees the startling contrast there, creamy pale against sun-tanned russet. Their personalities, on the other hand, could not be more alike, or farther apart. He is laid-back and cheerful where she is obsessive and anxious. He is forward and up-front where she is blushing and shy. But they are both bold, fiery, and passionate: One soul, really, but in two vessels.
Leah: Nightmares
The nightmares are the worst part. She still has them sometimes. They're the only things she spares from the pack, intentionally locking the memories away in the corner of her mind. She hopes foolishly but desperately that not letting the others see them will somehow prevent her from seeing them. It hasn't worked yet. It's the abandonment that scares her, the total loneliness, more reinforcement of her complete inability to be loved. Sam, her father, Seth… Everyone she ever thought cared about her left, in some form or another. And in that same horrid way, the nightmares have become reality.
Jacob: Wound
Her words are poisoned honey, but she's knocked the arsenic into them without realizing it (another spectacular feat of clumsiness). He knows she'll be guilt-ridden when she fins out, so he treats the symptoms, and never shows any of his true pain around her. His cocky sureness, his joking advances-- They're all flimsy and insubstantial bandages over the gaping wounds she's given him, directly to his heart, and quite by accident, too. He changes them often, sees the blood-soaked cloth, smells the hot metallic tang of love leaving his body. And she thought he was carving a hole in her.
Bella/Jake/Nessie: Grounded
She wants to go as a vampire for Halloween. She thinks it's funny. She really is only a child. Very immature, in some ways. Not the responsible adult his first love is at heart. Getting more middle-aged every year, he recalls. In a way, he needed her level-headedness to temper his free spirit, to keep him grounded. With this new love, this obligation, they're both liable to float away at any given moment. She's fine with that; in her young mind, they can stay up there forever. But her mother made him realize that everyone has to come down sometime.
This chapter has my first attempts at the whole Leah/Sam/Emily triangle, as well as my first Jake/Nessie anything, since I really hate her. The last one, obviously, is a very bitter take on the whole Bella/Jacob/Nessie thing. I still have a lot of resentment left over from reading Breaking Dawn.
I don't own Twilight, and frankly, I'm glad of that. (I'd be ashamed to have written BD.)