An important chapter. Thanks to everyone that's reading. Please tell me what you think.
X
"Bella."
Ice cold fingers bursh my cheeks, leaving behind burning tingles in their trail. The shock of their frigidity and the low murmur of my name slowly bring me out of the haziness of sleep. My eyes adjust to the darkness as the fingers roam once more.
"Edward?"
My voice is uncertain. Am I dreaming? Squinting, I try to determine whether or not I'm in his arms. Was everything a terrible, horrible nightmare?
But no. I reach up and feel the scruff of Greg's unshaven chin. It was all too real.
"I thought—"
"Shhh." Greg presses his lips against my forehead. The window is open, letting the night's harsh breeze into the bedroom. His skin is cold to the touch and I find myself longing for his usual warmth to drive away the lingering sensations of my dream. "You were having a nightmare."
A nightmare? Part of me agrees.
Greg rocks me back and forth on top of my old bed silently. Normally this would soothe me, but not tonight. Tonight I cannot easily forget my dreams and pretend that Edward is merely an elusive ghost of my past. It was just so real.
In this dream we are back in our meadow, lying in the sun. We are both touching each other, both laughing, both happy. Both sparkling.
The yearning has carried over into my consciousness, leaving me hollow in the arms of a man who is most assuredly not Edward. Anger I've stifled over the years threatens to show itself, but I can't let that happen when Greg is near.
"What time is it?" I ask, sleep and strain still haunting my voice.
Greg illuminates his cell phone. "A little after seven."
"I wasted the whole day."
He kisses my hand. "We got a lot done. I was thinking we might be able to leave tomorrow night."
The thought of leaving Forks ignites a sudden sense of panic within me. "We'll see," I say as evenly as possible. "I'm hungry. Do you think you could go pick us up something?"
Greg thankfully agrees and is off, leaving me on my own to sort myself out.
I pour myself a glass of water, shaking as I lift the glass to my parched lips. I knew coming to Forks was a huge mistake, but I couldn't miss Charlie's funeral. He was the only parent I had, the only person who knew the truth—the whole truth about me and loved me, regardless.
And I couldn't ignore that long dormant part of me, that slice of myself that longed and would always long for Forks and all its connotations, the good and evil.
A picture placed haphazardly on the fridge catches my attention and I pause to give it another look. Numbly I realize it's a picture of Charlie and Billy, with a much younger and more jovial-looking Jake in the background. Billy's smiling face reminds me that I promised him I would stop by. He seemed so intent on getting me over to La Push that briefly I can't help but wonder if it was a ploy, something Jacob convinced him to do. But then I remember the seriousness in his eyes, the intensity that assured me this was important.
I'm seized with a rabid desire the second time during the day to find out just what was behind that stare. I don't know if it has anything to do with Edward, but I know it's something I would want to know. Billy never really did me wrong, even though his tribe screwed me royally.
Strumming my fingers against the counter, I weigh my options. Naturally I can't bring Greg with me. Anything to do with Billy and La Push has a supernatural element to it.
I glance at the clock. Greg left about ten minutes ago. Do I have the time to run over there without Greg getting suspicious?
Before I lose my temporary flare of bravery, I quickly call a cab and grab a piece of paper. Barely conscious of what I'm doing, my thoughts mainly focused on getting to and from La Push, I scribble a message on it.
Went to visit an old friend. Be back soon.
Without a second glance I'm out the door and headed towards the dark unknown.
X
"I didn't think you'd come." Billy idly runs his spoon through the cup of tea, looking more like a superstitious old woman than a respected elder as he hunches over timidly. His eyes, however, regard me shrewdly with a wisdom far greater than most.
"I said I would," I respond, a little petulantly.
I've been sitting across from him over his rickety old table, thinking of Greg's reaction when he comes home to an empty house, for more than twenty minutes already. I'm also a little anxious that Jake might walk in, though he certainly doesn't live with his father anymore.
Billy sips his tea thoughtfully. I glance quickly at the clock, regretting my hasty decision with each sweep of the its hand. Finally he speaks.
"I want to tell you how… sorry I am about Charlie."
"You didn't kill him," I point out. "It's no one's fault but my own. He just… I told him too much. The stress was too much on his heart, and eventually…"
He doesn't disagree with me vocally, but I see the disagreement in his eyes and the firm line of his wrinkled mouth. "Time is running out. Let me get to the point. I'm sure the strange behavior of the pack at Charlie's funeral didn't escape your attention."
The shiver up my spine is unavoidable.
"No," I whisper, "no, it didn't."
Billy nods. "I saw you watching them. They don't want to tell you about it just yet, but I know you'd want to know. They just don't want you frightened, and to be honest, they're more than a little scared themselves."
Cold dread shoots through my chest and stomach. The pack isn't afraid of the Cullens, nor are they afraid of any random vampire. The only vampire they've ever met that's been able to evade them time after time, leaving incomprehensible damage after each encounter, is the only one who truly poses a threat to me anymore.
Victoria.
I stand, hardly noticing that I knock over my glass of water. "No," I declare forcefully, as though the strength in my voice will somehow stay a murderous vampire out for my blood. "They were positive that—"
"They were wrong. Jacob, especially. He was so caught up in his relationship with you that he wasn't paying close enough attention." Billy pauses, not for dramatic effect but because the next words are going to be positively horrifying. "She escaped."
Thoughtlessly I sink back into the chair. I struggle force my words out. "Did she… Is she responsible for Charlie's death?"
Sighing, Billy shrugs. "Who can tell? The coroner's report still stands that it was a heart attack. The boys didn't get a whiff of her until right before his funeral, but that's not exactly telling… They picked up the scent of other vampires, as well."
I shake my head, remembering her ruthlessness in our last confrontation. "I'm surprised she didn't kill him before, but I don't think she killed him now. If the thought occurred to her, she probably would have taken care of it already." I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, trying to calm the tangled thoughts fighting for attention in my head. "This course probably didn't occur to her. She was probably certain, after our last… face to face, that I wouldn't ever return."
Billy neither agrees nor disagrees; he merely sips his tea and stares at the clock, possibly anticipating Victoria's wrathful appearance at any moment. I try to squash the cowardly urge to hop up and run as far away as fast as possible. Even if I were to give in to that particular fantasy, it wouldn't end well. If Victoria were outside, she'd overtake me in an instant. If Jacob and his furry pals decided to stop me, they'd have me in two instants. It simply wasn't worth running anymore.
We're quiet for a few moments, lost in thoughts of werewolves and pale vampires that lurk in the shadows. Now, if confronted with Victoria, I'm not positive I would run anymore. Not, mind you, because I'm suddenly a superhero with no fear, but because I'm exhausted. I'm tired of running, of hiding, of looking over my shoulder. I'm tired of fake promises of safety and of brushes with the undead and the unnatural. If these are my cards, let the game play on.
"Are they outside?" I ask suddenly, wondering if Jake and the rest of the pack are hiding in the trees.
"Probably," Billy says with a small smile. "They're not letting you out of their sight, no matter how awkward the circumstances may be."
Billy's words trigger memories of Greg and I together and stupidly I blush. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?" I ask hastily, eager to get leave.
I start to stand but his hand reaches out to grab my wrist, much like when we were at the funeral. "Please, Bella. There's more. Please."
Reluctantly, I sit. My cell phone vibrates in my pocket for the second time, and without glancing at it I'm sure it's Greg. "My boyfriend's waiting. He'll wonder where I am."
In an uncharacteristic move, Billy hesitates. He obviously deliberates with what he wants to say for a few minutes before meeting my eyes once again. "Does he know anything about this?"
"Of course not," I scoff.
"Because it's dangerous?"
"Yes."
"Isabella," Billy says softly, "do you think it's wise for you to be with him?"
"Yes," I shoot back immediately. "I'd die without him… I'd be dead already."
"You're risking his life just being with him." Billy's voice isn't accusatory; honestly, it's patient and kind. He sounds like a worried father.
He's right, but that doesn't mean I can accept that.
Like I said, I am most certainly a selfish girl.
"Hardly," I snap, though my response is not only wrong, it sounds immature and nonsensical.
Billy's hands clench into fists at my tone, but his face and voice remain calm. "Everything and everyone that was once yours has been taken. All that's left is him."
After those ominous words, Billy watches me cautiously like I'm about to jump up and pummel him or something. I would like to because I unfairly and wrongly blame him for this entire ordeal. But then I give it some thought and realize I only have myself to blame.
Edward didn't know the half of it when he labeled me a danger-magnet all those years ago.
The casual thought pops into my head, but my response is anything but. The jagged snap of pain rips a hole in my chest as I think back to Edward's teases.
"You're right," I whisper brokenly. "I just don't know I'm supposed to lose anyone else."
"I know," Billy says, patting my hand. Again he seems like the father I never really had, and I'm unsettled by this. Billy was never all that warm to me to start with. I'm still debating when Billy utters the words that seal the deal: "But it's the right thing to do."
The Right Thing. How that concept has haunted me.
"You must decide what you're going to do, and fast. Afterwards you need to come here until it all blows over."
I hunch over the table, balling my hands into fists and rubbing them against my eyes like a tired child. "I'll take care of it."
"I knew you'd do the right thing, Bella."
X
It's absolutely pouring by the time I make it back to Charlie's house. I sit in the car I borrowed from Billy, staring at the site of so much good and bad.
Greg's car is parked neatly in the driveway and the lights in the living room are on. I can just barely make out his shape through the blurring rain and the gauzy curtains. He is pacing, anxiously awaiting my arrival. My heart aches for him. I'm going to really hurt him, shatter him after everything he's done for me. Selfishly I ponder who will hurt worse in this situation; I'm not in love with Greg, but I do need him. Desperately.
My phone vibrates again and I decide it's time to get it over with.
I run through the rain, managing to get thoroughly drenched, anyway.
"Bella!" Greg yells, running towards me the moment I stumble inside.
Despite my state, he hugs me close to his chest. "Where the hell have you been?"
He's furious with me, for truly the first time, and I can't blame him.
"I'm sorry."
He pulls back to look down at me. "Sorry?" His face is red and splotchy. "Sorry? I've been driving myself crazy for the past two hours, imagining all these terrible scenarios, and all you can offer me is 'sorry'?"
I touch his face and some of his anger melts. I know that his fury is really because of his fear for me, and this cuts me even deeper than before. How much of him loves me and how much of him feels responsible for me? So many of my relationships originated from misguided assumptions of responsibility.
Billy's right. I have to set him free, not even because of the impeding danger, but because I've used him in such a horrible way.
I open my mouth to begin the awkward speech I've been running through my head since driving away from Billy's, but Greg cuts me off with a savage kiss. His lips are almost brutal against mine and I take a moment to lose myself in the uncommon feeling of Greg letting go.
Finally he frees me and steps back. "Tell me where you were."
"Visiting an old friend. An old friend of Charlie's, actually," I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
"I gathered that much from your note." Greg's face brightens as a thought comes to him. "It was that guy from the funeral, right? In the wheelchair?"
I just stare at him.
"Answer me!"
"We have to talk, Greg," I announce in the steadiest, flattest voice I can manage. "I think I want to stay here."
Greg looks stunned. "But we have to get back to our—"
"I want to stay here by myself." The words burn on their way out. It's not lost on me that this is eerily paralleling the scene that's tormented me over the years.
"What?" Greg's voice is smooth and low, and, quite frankly, a little scary.
"I—"
"Absolutely not. What's going on? You can tell me. I see the anxiety written all over you."
Shit. His face is no longer angry, or hurt, or disbelieving. He now looks concerned and much too curious.
Knowing I'm taking a gamble with this, I hesitantly whisper: "It's not safe as long as you're here."
"Bella." Greg's eyes blaze into mine. He's not backing down.
And just like that, the exhaustion and fear take over and I start sobbing heavily for the second time in one day.
"Tell me," Greg commands, taking me into the strong, warm arms I know I can't live without.
"We have to get out of here. Now. Forget all this stuff. We won't make it if we don't leave this second."
Greg says nothing as he hurriedly grabs his wallet and keys. Our hands clasp together tightly, and while we walk out into the damning downpour, I silently beg Billy and Renee and Charlie and any god out there to forgive me. I'm just too selfish.
But I should have known that it wouldn't work out, that I was destined to fail.
Standing in front of Greg's car, effectively blocking us from any kind of escape, are the seven people I longed and dreaded to see the most.
Immediately my eyes are caught in the most important one's unyielding gaze, as strong and as binding as ever, despite the years between us and the blinding drops of rain that separate us now.
Greg shouts my name, but I can barely hear him over the screams in my head. Somehow, however, I'm aware that I've damned him as surely as I've damned myself and anyone else unfortunate enough to come across my path.
Staring back at Edward, damnation never felt so wonderful.