Chapter Seven

I heard the beeping of the heart monitor. I still couldn't feel my heartbeat. Dead without Edward. That was how it would always be. I opened my eyes. They were cloudy and heavy. I saw the lights flash. I felt the same damn pain inside, but there was some on the outside too. My leg, my head, my back, my ribs, both arms, it all hurt. For a moment, I thought it was April again, right after we confronted James, but the thunder outside told me I was in Forks.

My vision slowly cleared, but it was never completely clear. It wasn't tears this time. Tubes in my arm, the heart monitor, blood and fluids being pumped into me. I tried to clear my throat, but it didn't work. I closed my eyes, trying to make out the different voices until I recognized one. Just one. It was Dad's. I wished it was Edward's. The old Edward would have been by my side, icing the shattered body with his cold skin to ease the pain. Edward wasn't there. He was gone. That hit me, as hard as it had the first time.

"How fast was she going?" Dad asked.

"At least a hundred miles an hour," another voice answered.

Dad sighed. A pause. "Was it... intentional?" Dad said, and I could tell his jaw was clenched. He didn't want to ask the question. I didn't want the answer to come because I had no idea what the voice would say.

"It's hard to tell for sure, but the witnesses said she only swerved to miss their car, Chief Stone. She's very lucky, even if she's hurt badly. She could have lost her life."

"How bad is she?" I realize this was Dad's first time hearing. He'd just learned of my accident--or was it an accident?

A pause, then the doctor--I assumed--cleared his throat. "Her leg is shattered in four places. Her hand, three ribs, and her arm, but they were all clean breaks. That's best. They'll heal quickly. She got a pretty bad concussion, but there's no bleeding and no fracture of the skull. She's got whiplash and hurt her back pretty badly. I imagine her back will be hard to live with for months, but at least it's not broken. Cuts, bruises are the most of it. Her face was so bloody that we didn't know who she was at first. She was conscious through the whole accident, and even when the ambulance arrived. She kept saying something. We couldn't understand it. Her face will be fine. No scars. And all the injuries will heal. At least physically. She's lucky she didn't lose her life. She's lucky she'll ever walk, much less walk in weeks."

"What was she saying? Any ideas?" Dad pressed.

"Several things. 'I need you' was one, but it was in French..." The doctor sounded strange. Confused. "And 'he's gone' most of all. She said something like... 'na vie' too..."

"Ma vie," Dad corrected softly. He glanced at me. He ran over when he saw I was awake again. I started crying. Edward used to call me that. Ma Vie, my life in French. He couldn't call me that and not love me. "Sh, honey, it's all right," Dad told me quickly. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"No, it's not that," I sobbed. "It's Edward," I whispered, stronger than ever before. I was sure it was him!

"Edward's been gone for over a week," Dad told me. He looked at the doctor in concern.

"No! No. I was on my way back. He's the reason I'm alive now," I corrected. "He saved me again." It had to be Edward! Luck was against me. None of the evidence made sense. Edward stopping the car was the only explanation that made sense to me. It couldn't to Dad or the doctors, but they didn't know about Edward being a vampire. I knew, and I knew it had to be Edward. I closed my eyes as the memory slowly came back. I'd been speeding. As fast as I could. The car came over a turn, and I jerked my steering wheel to avoid it. I heard my name, like an angel calling me. No, better than angel. Only one person had that kind of voice. Edward. He'd called me "Ma Vie" again. I'd heard him call out "Don't do this" every time I almost faded from consciousness as the ambulance sirens approached me. He kept me alive, kept me awake. He'd stopped my car, and he'd held my hand through this. I remembered that! Edward wasn't gone.

"Who's Edward?" the doctor asked, walking over. I knew he thought there must have been another Edward.

"My boyfriend," I snapped.

"Ex boyfriend," Dad corrected. "He dumped her."

"Boyfriend," I retorted furiously. Even though, technically, he did dump me, he never said it. Until he did--and he wouldn't because I remembered how he'd left me--he was my boyfriend. He'd been by my side after I'd hit the tree or whatever I'd hit. But he wasn't in the hospital. He was still gone. He'd left again.

"Who else was hurt?" I asked.

"No one," the doctor answered.

"Timberlee, what the hell were you thinking--driving that fast?" Dad inquired.

I shook my head in confusion. Fake confusion. "I don't remember what you're taking about," I lied. "How fast was I going?"

"The amnesia is probably due to the concussion. It's only temporary," the doctor told me with a smile. "Chief, can I talk to you privately?" I watched them go, wishing Edward would run in as soon as they left. He didn't. They left only through the door. I could see Dad through the window and the blinds. "Have you considered counseling?" the doctor asked. "If she debates whether or not Edward Cullen is her boyfriend or ex boyfriend when the whole town knows the story, you should look into it. She's in a deep depression for sure. At least."

I saw Dad raise his eyebrows. He took several deep breaths. "No. No," he said firmly. Wow! I'd expected to be shipped off to a funny farm immediately. "She's been sedated for two days. She just woke up. I know she's done some crazy things and maybe she is depressed, but she hasn't even had a small amount of time to heal over the wounds yet. Physically and mentally. No. I'm not sending her away to be a guinea pig and to be treated like she's crazy."

"I'm not talking about a psychiatric hospital, Charlie." More gentle. First name basis. "I'm talking about counseling, someone to listen to how she feels."

Charlie shook his head again. He gave me a look as if to say "You'd better not make me regret this." "No. The last time I sent her to counseling, she got worse. She has her own ways of coping with things and talking to someone doesn't usually help. If I see signs she'll do anything, I'll look into it. I know my girl enough to know that she's too damn stubborn." I allowed myself a small smile. "She wouldn't let her depression have the satisfaction of winning."

The doctor nodded once and he left. Dad returned to my room. I started to fight the tears. He stood up for me. He hoped that I would move on. Charlie touched my cheek and that only made it harder--Edward used to do that. I held back the sobs this time, but only just.

"Timberlee, crying isn't a bad thing. Just let it out," Dad told me gently. "You'll feel better."

I shook my head, almost amused. Feeling better with Edward gone was just a joke to me. It was impossible. "No. I won't ever feel better. Not until Edward comes back," I whispered. He had to come back! "I can't feel better without him."

"When your mom left, I had to erase everything about you kids and her. Lock up your toys, close your bedroom doors, completely erase the memories. Once a few years had passed, the toys came out again. I didn't like it, but I handled it."

"That's different. Mom had a reason. It was horrible, but at least she told you the reason. Edward and I were laughing, enjoying life one day, in love the same day, and he'd kiss me in the most sincere way--to a point where my heart screamed it was true. He did love me. And then, the next day, he didn't love me anymore. He didn't give me any reason why he was leaving. He just didn't care anymore. And it wasn't just that he left, Dad. He disappeared. Completely, from all existence. His family too! I want to remember because he made me happy, but remembering makes it hurt more."

"There are other ways to find happiness."

I shook my head, too sad to find the strength to cry this time. "No. Not without Edward. Not for me." I sighed deeply and wiped away the tears. No wonder Dad thought I was pregnant! All these emotions were crazy. I clamped my hand over my stomach to settle the butterflies and Dad raised his eyebrows. "I'm not pregnant," I whispered, somehow wishing I was. At least then I would have something left of Edward.

Dad nodded, standing. He took a few steps back, like he expected me to explode. "I know. I asked the doctor," he admitted quietly. He folded his arms. "I have to ask this, honey. You can get mad at me if you want, but were you trying to kill yourself?"

I shook my head, but I wasn't so sure that was true. I didn't know what my intentions were. "No. I was trying to feel something. Just trying to get my heart to beat fast again, like it used to whenever I saw him. He was so beautiful and he used to smile because I did," I whispered. I blushed--why was I telling this to Charlie of all people? I wiped the tears quickly. "I was trying to be excited to be alive again," I said, brushing my forehead with my good arm. If you could call it that. It was covered in bruises and I counted seventeen stitches. "Do you think I'm crazy for still loving him? For being like this?"

"No. Not crazy. Just in love." Dad watched the tears spill over again, flowing freely. He left without another word, just a small smile. I was alone again. The heart monitor's beep was steady. Too steady. It sounded slow. I knew Edward had saved me somehow. He made my reflexes faster somehow or he stopped the car.

The image of him in my head told me that I needed to stay alive. For him. Just in case he did love me again. That would have given me the will to slow down or whatever happened before I hit the tree. I closed my eyes to look back on those seconds. It was all so fast, and I was still disorientated from the concussion and pain medication. I was speeding, but I felt nothing. I remembered that. I came around a corner and I was going straight towards a car. I swerved off the road and into a tree. I knew all of what happened, but I wanted to know what I had been thinking. Suicide was an option minutes before and I ran to get away. Edward's face flashed in my mind before. The night he saved me in Port Angeles. On our ride home. We were laughing together, and I swore he almost wrecked the car I just totaled. He denied the near-accident, we argued about it for a while. He almost wrecked my car because he was laughing with me. He was happy then. He was happy before with me. And he wasn't happy when he left. So why did he? Why did he claim that he wasn't happy with me?

It hurt so bad to breathe and more tears came, but my heart in my chest pounded twice as I ran his laugh through my head, remembering exactly how it sounded that night in Port Angeles, remembering how happy he'd been. A gust of air breathed out, he always wrinkled his nose when he laughed. Two heart beats was enough to tell me I was awake, that I was still alive. That was all I needed to know.

I knew my sleep would be disturbed by nightmares, his once pleasant face haunting them. But then more I slept, the stronger I would be, the stronger I would become, the longer I would be able to fight. Not fight the pain. Fight to get Edward back. I would do anything.

So I slept. The depth of my slumber was probably more due to my pain medication, not my exhaustion. At first, it was peaceful. Edward was holding me close, happy as I'd remembered. Smiling at something I'd said. He was truly amused by whatever it was. We were in my room. He was humming my lullaby then. I was smiling at the sound of his beautiful voice. Then he kept telling me "no." I woke up, drenched in sweat and crying. But the peaceful part of my dream kept me asleep for five hours, and that was enough. Dad was asleep in the chair next to me, snoring softly. My cry as I awoke didn't bother him. I was glad.

I leaned back into my pillows. Dad's comfortable position told me it was at least a day before I would be released from the hospital. I had hours until he woke up though, and my broken leg prevented me from getting up to find a good magazine in the waiting room, or even looking for one. I smiled a bit as a nurse walked in. I'd never met her before, but her young age suggested she was new. "You want anything?" she asked.

"No. Couldn't keep anything down," I muttered more to myself, clutching my stomach.

"Word around here's that you went through a rough break up."

The tears probably confirmed it, but I shook my head anyway. Then I shrugged. "Not rough," I told her. "That's not the best word to describe it. But if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it," I whispered weakly.

"Of course! You should get some more sleep. Your dad's been really worried. He only fell asleep a few minutes ago."

"I'll try to." But it was no use. The pain overwhelmed me again. I couldn't understand why I kept crying when it didn't help at all. I knew it didn't. I couldn't stop because Edward wasn't there to wipe away the tears. The rain pounding against the hospital windows didn't help. The liquid only made me want to cry more. So I cried until morning, ignoring the doctors' and nurses' offers to get me something if I needed it. All I needed was Edward, and they couldn't drag him back, even if the entire staff tried and he only used half his strength.

Dad woke up around nine and a tray of untouched food was on my lap. I was half asleep from exhaustion, a result of crying so long. Dad kissed my forehead. "Eat. Even if you throw it up again, at least you'll get some nutrition from it," he said, stretching. "I'm gonna run home to get a shower. You want anything?"

I nodded. "If you can find it in my room, will you bring me Jane Eyre?"

"Sure, honey."

I ate the toast only because throwing up hospital cafeteria scrambled eggs sounded particularly unpleasant. So I nibbled on the toast, waiting for my stomach ache to return. The butterflies did come back, but it wasn't bad enough to make me vomit this time. I fell asleep after I was given more pain medication. This time, there was no nightmare. No dream of Edward, but I knew that was because I was drugged. Part of me wanted to see his face again, even if he didn't speak. I just wanted to see him, hallucination or not. I wanted to see his eyes change and see what made the monster inside my head happy.

Jane Eyre was on the side of my bed when I woke up. But there was more. Dad knew how fast I read, so he saved himself a trip home and brought four other books. I noticed they were brand new! So he'd stopped by a bookstore of some kind on his way here. I allowed myself a tiny smile as I lifted the books to read the titles.

The Glimpses of the Moon, by Edith Wharton. Every Breath You Take, by Judith McNaught. Lost Boy, Lost Girl, by Peter Straub, and Just Breathe, by Susan Wiggs. I had heard of each author and each book, but I never read them. The choices of books didn't entirely make sense to me. Three of the four were romances, and there was probably some romance in the fourth. Charlie used to complain about how I got caught up in the romantic books I read, or any book for that matter. But maybe he thought romance novels were a good way to help me feel something. Or maybe he just assumed that I wanted romance since I'd asked for Jane Eyre.

Hospitals always made me miserable. Everyone in the staff there knew what had happened between myself and Edward. And I wouldn't be able to escape them either. Forks was too small to avoid being recognized as Timberlee Stone. Daughter of police chief and the foolish girl who wrapped a $50,000 car around a tree in the need for the rush after a boyfriend dumped me. I heard whispers and they were about me, I knew. Suicide, that's what they said my plan had been. A thought, not a plan, and not an attempt. But as I thought about it, I realized driving a hundred miles an hour on a winding road was suicide alone. I was somehow asking to be killed, even if it hadn't occurred to me at that moment.

Charlie entered sometime later. I didn't know exactly how long it had been though. I only knew I was already on page twenty-four of Jane Eyre. I wasn't reading the entire time though. I got side tracked at the smallest detail in the book. Siblings, relatives, feelings. Anything like that got me off thinking about Edward again. No tears. I was remembering the Real Edward. The one I loved. Charlie didn't smile at me, but he didn't look so worried. "Fixed that hole in your wall," he announced quietly. "Straightened our your room enough so you can sleep when you get to leave."

"Thanks. Sorry about the wall."

"It's fine. You just have a white spot on a dark wall."

"You don't have to stay here," I told him.

"I know. But you've only got two or three more days here at most. Including today," he added quickly when I looked up furiously from my book--there was no way any number of doctors or casts could keep me chained in a hospital for that long. My childhood trips to the hospital had scarred me for life. Broken bones, torn cartilage in my knee, getting my tonsils removed, all the times I needed stitches or a cut cleaned or anything else. By the age of four, I disliked hospitals. When I turned eleven, I really didn't like them. Now that I was almost seventeen--ugh!--I loathed them.

It was June 2nd, two days before my birthday. I'd given it no thought whatsoever, except wondering what kind of party Alice would have planned. Months before June, I'd promised to let her do whatever she wanted, even if I was reluctant. Now she was gone. Turning seventeen sounded horrible, worse than it had when the Cullens were here and Alice was planning an insanely big party in a town with just over three thousand people and tons of presents. Now I wasn't counting down the years until the end of my life. I was counting down the years until I wouldn't have time to bring Edward back to me. So close to my birthday. Another year older, another year I didn't have. I sighed. "Mom and Michael should come up for my birthday," I said suddenly. Anything to distract me from thoughts of Edward for a few seconds. A few seconds without pain made it easier to get through the next time. I needed only a second or two, a breath alone where I could remember him the way he was. That always helped, as little as the change was. It made it a fraction easier. That was enough for now.

Dad nodded. "They're flying up tomorrow actually. Must've slipped my mind somehow. I meant to tell you."

Of course it slipped his mind! I'd gone missing, then I'd come close to kiling myself, and now I was in the hospital, piling up a huge bill that Charlie would have to pay somehow with his lousy salary. Dad was probably out of his mind with worry, and Mom probably cried more than I did and slept less. So much had happened. All of it disastrous. It was only the second week into summer break. I closed my eyes again. It seemed like disasters always came closer together, as if life was trying to break those who lived it. The pain Edward had inflicted hadn't faded yet or lessened at all, even though there had been a few moments when I was able to ignore it before it swamped me again, strangled me. I felt it as strongly as I did the day he left. But he set another mystery in front of me to understand, to somehow comprehend in all my misery.

How did I survive? No broken neck or back. No internal damage. I could walk, even if I'd broken my leg. There was no permanent damage, and that was the dilemma. I should have died and some kind of force, whether worldly or a supernatural kind, saved me. It was fast enough to be invisible. It was hard enough to destroy my car as a tree would. It was strong enough to slow me down. It had to be Edward. I'd seen it before. It was the first Friday I'd spent in Forks. He saved me then, and in the same way, he saved me now. It could have been something like rescuing me from hitting the tree so hard by pulling my back pumper until I slowed. He could have stood in front of the tree to stop me. Or it could have been something so small as giving me the will and the reflexes to slow down. The ability to slow down before I hit the tree. I would never know until I could ask him. And that was the one thing I couldn't do. So I mulled it over until I fell asleep again, remembering how he used to sound whenever he spoke my name and remembering how he told me that I was the only thing that mattered to him. I was priceless then, and now... Worthless to him... How could I recover from that?