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I could not get back here fast enough. I am blind with fear and rage, on the brink of heartbreak, vehement in my Volvo..

I cannot fathom this disappearance. What was the enticement used by the boy to move her to forbidden ground? Sickness? Danger? Near-death experience? I cannot understand. My mind seethes with inquietude and I am undone. And yet, I must wait, I must remain at the edge of perdition besotted by alarm and dread.

I have lived through worry before; I can endure it now. But must I? Would the cost be so high, if a small transgression were made for the sake of her safety? Surely, no human could fault such a motive. I could leave the car, and run…

I would be faulted, have no doubt. What danger is she in? What crisis did I seek to cure? Only her time with Jacob; only her closeness to a rival, albeit a werewolf. Yes, I would be faulted.

How can I endure this interminable wait in this amaranthine rage? The pen does not calm; the music does not soothe. I am nerve and edge and of no use. I stand on the border between my love and my peace. There must be some cure for this void.

I will never doubt my love for Bella, but the boundaries of my devotion are unknown even to me. This love, a blessing wrapped in razors, is carved into my thought, etched and imprinted in my existence. I seek company in this wasp nest of love! Neruda:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you simply, without problems or pride:

I love you in this way

because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I nor you,

so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,

so intimate that when I fall asleep

it is your eyes that close.

How he must have loved! Surely he felt as feeble and insecure as I at this moment of crisis.

I am resolved. I shall cross the line and retrieve my beating heart, whatever consequence may come. Carlisle must understand. I -

At last! I see her truck approaching! How achingly slow it moves.

I am told: you belong to darkness.

Perhaps, perhaps, but I walk toward the light.