Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters from Twilight/New Moon—Not I.

Chapter 4

Bella's POV

Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.

Another day had passed, and then another and another. Before long, a week had passed, and then the week turned into two. These weeks turned into a month.

A month had passed.

Nothing had changed over the course of time—just my thoughts of the Cullen family.

How dare they barge into my life like that—and then nearly forcing me out of the life I had built myself. You did a great job at doing that, I thought to myself coyly. Did they expect me to just forget all of my responsibilities and run along with them in the eerie forest?

The pickle jar I held in my hands wasn't opening.

If they thought I could just leave Dave out of the blue then they've got something coming to them. So long as I live, I would never disappear from my world. There's just too much that would be left undone.

The damn pickle jar just isn't turning. I watched as my knuckles turned white while clutching it.

What was Edward to look at me like I was crazy when I said I loved Dave? I do love Dave! He's just jealous; yeah, that's it. Dave was a good man. He'd never hurt me intentionally. In fact, what's wrong with a few bruises and a couple of cuts? Nothing, I answered to myself.

"Damnit! Stupid pickle jar!" I threw it across the room and observed in slow motion as it collided with the wall. It exploded into a million ruins of glass. My hand came up to cover my mouth.

So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

"What's all the racket?"

I watched as the door to our room opened painfully slow.

"I was… just opening a pickle jar." I hurried to the mess, picking up all the little shards. They bit at my skin as I did the task in haste.

Despite my futile attempts to please Dave, it would never be enough.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as a foot came up to kick me in perfect aim to my ribs. I flipped so my back grazed the pieces of glass instead of my face.

I could smell the blood. It became another candidate for my bleaching skills.

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys.

"Be quiet while I'm sleeping," Dave said, his voice raspy. He retired back to the room.

I turned my head to the floor, absently watching as the glass reflected against the light to make it look like snow.

My hand slid into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a little piece of paper. It aged from how many times I've opened and folded it.

My eyes skimmed over the perfect calligraphy, stating the address that told where Edward was.

If I wanted to leave; I would have to leave now. I wouldn't have time to pack my clothes or take a shower.

I pushed myself up, not bothering to even look at the remains of the pickle jar. I grabbed the keys to the car, and silently walked out of the door.

As I turned the keys in the ignition, I smiled slightly and said goodbye to Dave only in my head.

You fasten my seatbelt because it is the law.
In your two ton death trap I finally saw.

I drove to the stop sign and looked at my bloody hands that were locked on the steering wheel. Funny, blood didn't irk me as much anymore.

And then I stepped on the gas pedal so I could make the tires squeel. I'd always wanted to do that like in the movies.

A piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret.
Then you drove me to places I'll never forget.

I drove from state to state, eventially crossing Canada. Goodbye, Forks. Goodbye, Dave. Of course, I'd visit Charlie.

For the first time in a long lapse, I witnessed the sunset and sunrise. It was beautiful.

But when I entered the borders of Alaska, I entered a differen't universe. Mountains surrounded me in a full 360 degree turn. Luckily it was summer, giving me the gift of nice temperature.

I put my hand out the window. The air was fresh, not polluted. Everything had the sweet taste of freedom. I loved it.

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys.

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The song above is Breakable, by Ingrid Michaelson.

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