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Chapter 8
I was already in the woods by the time I heard the slam of her screen door.
Running.
I had to run away…to get away from her, from her tears, from the terrified look in her eyes and the trembling, shaking fear that I saw in her body. The fear that I had caused.
I was a fucking monster.
I was a fucking monster and the realization of everything that I had done crashed over me.
I had watched her. Stalked her. I had followed her home the very first time I saw her and I had returned night after night. Waiting in the woods. Listening to her. Violating her privacy. Stealing her moments that didn't belong to me. They never had.
She should have been scared of me.
I was scared of myself.
The sound of her falling and her strangled and choking cry pierced my heart…and I stopped. I listened to her, fighting every urge I had to return to make sure that she was okay. And I knew that she wasn't. She wasn't okay, and that was because of me. Because of what I had done. My own cry filled the silent woods as I fell to my knees, pulling at my hair and losing myself in the pain of understanding that this was the way it was supposed to be. I didn't deserve her warmth. I was never worthy of her touches, her kisses…of the joy I'd felt when I held her.
None of it was meant for me.
Not a moment of it was mine.
And then the pain was new and fresh as I remembered. The way her sleeping body had curled into mine and the way her breathing was like a sigh, as if my touch was something she'd been missing. She might have been sleeping, but I wasn't. I remembered every moment in stunning detail – could recollect the feeling of her skin against mine, all hot and silk and soft. The way it felt when she gasped into my ear as I touched and explored her. I was dizzy with the memory of her scent…her taste. And she – she had begged me to do it! Pleaded with me and told me that she wanted me…but she didn't.
"Fuck," I sobbed. "She didn't fucking want me!"
And the pain that came with that realization was staggering. It was as if it were happening all over again. And I felt my mind sink deeper into that place – that place that I hadn't allowed myself to go for so many years. A place that was desolate and abandoned. And even though I thought she had been different…she just wasn't. She didn't want me. Just like…
"No…she didn't know," I whispered to myself. "She didn't know you were real. She didn't…she didn't know what you were."
And I knew that it was completely different with her because of that. Her reaction to me in her room when she woke up was what it should have been the night before. And I was the fucking stupid and reckless one for allowing myself the luxury of hope when I knew – I fucking knew – that there was no place for hope in my word. Just like there was no place for me in hers.
There never had been.
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I waited until I heard her leave. A part of me wondered if she would be too upset to go, but she wasn't. Or maybe she was scared. Her home had been violated – maybe she didn't feel safe. And then another wave of pain engulfed me as I wondered if she was going to him. Would she go to him because he made her feel safe? And suddenly, I needed to know.
Self-loathing enveloped me as I ran through the woods. I knew where I was going and I made my way easily through the trees. I had followed this path night after night. And I knew that I had no right to do it – that there was no justification that could exonerate my actions. But I also knew what I was – she had shown me. With her cries and with her words and with the way her body cowered in my presence. She knew I was a monster and she thought that I would hurt her.
And I had.
I had hurt her.
I had scared her.
And because of that, I would follow her this one last time to ensure that she was safe…and then I would disappear.
I was a master at disappearing.
I would do it again.
I made my way to the dark alley behind the bar. I waited – not knowing if she would come – but knowing that I would have been faster than her truck. I waited, wanting to make sure that she was okay. Once I knew that she was there, I could go…I could run and she would never have to think about me again. She could go on with her life as if none of it had ever happened. As if I had never been there…held her…touched and kissed her. And I knew that I would never forget those moments, those hours…but she was human. Her life was fleeting and she would forget.
I welcomed and embraced the stabbing pain I felt at the thought.
Moments later, I heard her truck in the distance. I stayed in the dark, wanting to see her onnce more. She jumped out of the truck and I saw her face one last time. I'd memorized every feature, every line. The soft, full pout of her lips…the delicate angle of her jaw. She was beautiful and I took all of her in, knowing that I would spend the rest of my immeasurable existence remembering. She was a part of me now.
I would never, ever forget her.
She disappeared inside and I was gone.
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I ran back to my house on the outskirts of Forks. It was a small place. I'd never really needed much space anyway. It was enough for me to retreat to when I needed the quiet that the distance from town allowed. I had no neighbors to speak of for miles and miles. And even though I'd only been in this part of the country for a couple months, I thought that I could exist here for a while without notice.
It was easy to homogenize in a place like this. It was one of the reasons I'd chosen, not just the Pacific Northwest, but Forks in general. Small town people, while they tended to be gossipy, were for the most part, leery of the unknown. They would usually keep their distance and with my ability to hear them, I would be able to tell if anyone suspected anything.
That had all changed when I met her.
Bella.
She was the first person in all of my years that I had never been able to hear. And as I stood in the desolate space of my home – my home that I would now have to leave – I wanted to grieve. Not just the loss of her, but the loss of this place where I thought that I could withdraw and escape even further away from my past.
From him.
From them.
It had been for the best.
But I would have to start all over again. And I knew that I could do it…would have to do it. Not just for me, for my pain was inconsequential. It would be for her. I would never hurt her again. And I still couldn't fathom my own stupidity that I'd allowed any of it to happen. It was all my fault.
It was then that I remembered the text. Why was he contacting me after all these years? I always knew he would know how to find me…and I'd known that he would be available to me if I'd ever needed him again for anything. But I also knew what came with his presence. And I couldn't handle that right now.
I never really could.
I decided to call him to see what he was talking about. What he knew…because clearly, I had no idea. Why would he think I would come here? And why, for that matter, was it any of his concern?
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed the number that appeared on my screen. And I waited, as it rang, to hear his voice. I knew he would answer.
"I was expecting your call," he said chuckling darkly. "It's been too long, Edward."
"What do you want?"
"Well, I see that you're still not one for many words," he said smoothly. "But I think that you and I both know that the question you should be asking is what do you want?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
And I didn't.
"Come on now," he coaxed. "I know you…and I know why you're here."
I was growing tired of his words, his insinuations.
"Yeah, well, maybe you should tell me," I said. "Since you seem to know so much."
"The only question is," he continued, as if he were ignoring me completely, "the only question remains…why? Why after all these years? I'll never understand you."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
I could hear him laughing and it infuriated me. He'd always thought he'd known me so well. And maybe he did know me more than just about anyone else…but that had been a long time ago.
"Edward," he sighed, his voice growing serious. "I told you, I know why. Don't lie to me. And I understand, man. I really do."
"Listen, I'm not in the mood to play these fucking games with you," I growled. "Always with the words. It always has been with you. I was through with it then and I'm fucking through with it now."
"Don't forget, Edward," he snapped. "You were the one that came to me all those years ago. It was you. I didn't seek you out. You came to me."
At his words, I was there. In that place again, broken and confused and so fucking unknowing. It was all too much. It was still too much. But I had learned to control that shit. I had beaten it down and now…now, it was manageable.
"I thought I needed help," I told him. "I thought that if I could just…if you could just…but you couldn't."
"You didn't give it a chance, Edward."
"It was years of fucking chances!" I screamed. "Years of fucking trying and coping and…nothing!"
"You never let it go," he said softer, but his voice was still firm. "You still haven't. And I know that's why you're here."
"You. Don't. Know. Anything."
"Don't lie to me, Edward." His voice was hard and caused me to take pause. "Even from here, I can tell."
"What do you know?" I asked. "Exactly?"
"Meet me for a drink?"
I laughed bitterly at his words.
"We don't drink."
"Just because the whiskey doesn't burn," he said, "doesn't mean we can't enjoy the flavor."
"Where are you?" I asked, suddenly panicked.
"At a little shithole in the wall," he said. "In Forks. I'm pretty sure you know where I am."
"What are you doing there?"
My body was tight, my fist and jaw clenched as I growled. He was there with her…with Bella.
"Checking out the locals," he said. I heard the flick of silver, the dry sizzle of tobacco. I could almost see the flame illuminate his face as he inhaled. "They're a really interesting group…one of them in particular."
"Who?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
"Some girl…Bella," he said her name as if it were nothing, and I felt my chest tighten. "The bartender. I could feel the emotions coming off of her in waves. Would have been even more interesting to have you here, so you could tell me what she was thinking."
He laughed.
"Why would I care about that?" I asked, and the words that exited my mouth about not caring about her were far more blasphemous than my existence.
"No reason," he said. "Though, it got interesting before she left."
She left?
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I could feel this agony…this pain," he said. "It was unusual to feel that sort of emotion from a human. So raw and deep. It was fascinating, really. But then she dropped and shattered a glass," he chuckled. "My glass, in fact. I waited…for the blood. You know, it's been a long time since I tested my control like that."
"Did she bleed?" I asked, my voice raw. "Was she hurt?"
"No…but I'll bet that she would fucking taste amazing."
And just the idea of that – of him tasting her, of him hurting her – sent me into a near manic rage. I didn't think he would do it, but there were no guarantees. I knew what I had to do. She might be afraid of me, but I could…I would protect her.
"I have to go," I growled.
"Edward?"
"What?" I snapped.
"I'll be in touch."
I slammed my phone shut and I was running. I was running back to her and even though I knew that she wouldn't want to see me, I could stand outside her house and I could make sure that she was safe.
I had to keep her safe.
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She was just pulling into the drive when I arrived. It was silent except for the sound of her shallow breathing and the erratic beat of her pounding heart. Her eyes were puffy and swollen and I could tell that she had been crying…but even then, she was still so fucking beautiful. She would remain – always – the most beautiful woman I had ever known.
Her hands trembled as she unlocked her door and I heard her run into the house, he boots clicking on the wooden floor and then she stopped. And when she stopped, for a moment, the beat of her heart stilled, too. I wondered what she was doing, wondered why she would have come back here. I knew she was scared – that I had scared her. Did she have no one to go to? And then – just for a moment – I allowed myself to think that she could have come back for me.
But that was impossible.
She had seen me for what I really was. Not just the monster, but the man that would come into her home, trespass on her safe and personal places. Her room, her bed…her arms and body. And that look in her eyes had told me everything. She would never look at me the way she'd looked at me the night before. Her eyes would never be that trusting again…because she thought I wasn't real. And when she knew that I was – when she saw that I was – her eyes were truthful. Her eyes were terrified.
Her feet were moving again…running. And before I could try to figure out what she was doing, the door opened and she was on the porch. And she was holding a box. And as I looked closer, I could see exactly what the box was. She was holding the Ouija board.
Fuck me; she had it in her hands.
I held my useless breath – afraid to move, afraid to think, afraid of allowing myself the surge of hope that tried to push its way from my stomach to my throat. It was impossible, wasn't it? Why was she doing this? I didn't understand, couldn't wrap my mind around it. She had been afraid of me. This couldn't - it was impossible that this was about me.
She sat down, the board in front of her and the wooden piece gripped tightly in her hand. Her frail shoulders slumped, but I could tell that the rest of her body was painstakingly on edge. I watched her and still…still I didn't breathe or dare move. I was afraid of what I would see as I watched her, afraid of what I wouldn't. I knew the exact moment she was about to speak because her heart was beating furiously in her chest and just as she drew in a deep breath, everything slowed…everything stopped.
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"Edward, please..."
I knew that she was speaking, whispering…and even though I could hear every single word, my mind and body could only focus on the impossible fact, the unbelievable knowledge that she had said my name.
She was speaking to me.
Bewilderment and confusion surrounded me at the very thought of that. And unadulterated joy and pain – both equally consuming – filled my silent heart. She was scared and confused and she thought that she was crazy. And I wanted to cry out because she wasn't, but how could she not feel that way? Her bitter laughter stabbed and punctured me, but her words – her fucking broken and beautiful and honest words – rendered me silent.
"I told you I didn't know…and the truth was I didn't. But, Edward…Edward, you have to know that on some level…I really did. I was just so fucking scared when I woke up and saw you there. I thought I'd dreamed you up…created you in my mind. And maybe I did, but now I just don't know. I don't know anything except the way you looked tonight in my room. And I hate that I did that. That I made you look like that."
Even then…even fucking then, after everything that had happened, she was concerned, not with herself, but with me. She was worried about me. And my limitless mind couldn't wrap itself around that truth.
It's a strange and desperate thing, to be so alone and unworthy of any kind of acceptance and affection. I had gone for so long knowing and recognizing that truth. And it wasn't until her, until I saw her, until I couldn't hear her that I wanted. She made me want. Not just the desire to not be alone…but to be with someone.
To be with her.
"That's not the entire truth. I know…I remember the way you felt last night. I remember waking up in your arms. Arms that were unfamiliar," she said, choking back a sob.
My arms instinctively reached out to her, wanting to offer her comfort. But still, I knew that I shouldn't. I could see the memory of her face when she finally saw me for what I really was. And I couldn't…I couldn't go to her. I couldn't allow myself to go to her because I knew that my existence, my presence in her life would only cause her pain. But still she continued speaking.
"Arms that were unfamiliar…but Edward, they were so soft and gentle and I remember how good I felt…how safe I felt. And even though I didn't know you…even though I didn't know who you were…I felt like I was supposed to be there. And if I was supposed to be there…you…you were supposed to be there."
She still wanted me.
She still wanted me and was telling me, trying to tell me, trying to reach out to me through the board because that was the last thing she remembered was real. And her sobs fucking broke me as I watched her cry, fighting with myself to go and offer her comfort…to offer myself comfort. She fucking knew and she still fucking wanted me to be there with her. And she had wanted me to be with her the night before. Was that even possible? It couldn't be and yet…those were her words. Hers. Spoken out loud and to me.
And her words…her beautiful, fucking words still came.
"I don't know if it's you or me…I just know that I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired of always trying to be strong…always needing to be strong. When I'm just…not. Maybe you're not real, but a part of me…a really big fucking part of me…thinks that maybe you are. And if you are real, Edward…if you are real and you meant what you said when you told me that you wouldn't hurt me…I want you to come back. I need you to come back."
She wanted me.
She needed me.
I refused to allow myself to think beyond those words. Her request. I walked quietly, approaching her slowly. And as I walked, I watched her. She thought she wasn't strong, but she was. She was the bravest fucking person I'd ever met in all of my years. She was so beautiful and I didn't know…I was so conflicted about what I should do. I knew that she would be better off without me. She had been better off without me before. She had to have been.
Could I really do this?
Could I be that man?
I wanted to be. She made me want to be…but I just didn't know.
It was so fucking dark as I stood at the edge of her porch on her steps. The chill in the air was unnoticeable to me, but I recognized it as I watched her body shiver and shudder. I told myself that I could still leave. I could still leave and she would be okay…she would have to be okay. But then, she whispered, "Please." And with that word, she annihilated me.
"Please, Edward. If you were real…please, please, let me know. Please, talk to me…come to me. Show yourself to me again."
And with her words…with that one heartfelt and desperate plea, she fucking killed me, and I knew that there was nothing that she could ever ask for that I wouldn't give.
I stepped silently onto the porch, my entire body begging to just go to her and I knew that this was it. This was the moment. If I made this choice, I would be done. And while part of me was completely relieved and amazed with her…just her and who she was…what she was asking for, part of me knew that she deserved better.
"You're not real," she sobbed.
And I was fucking done.
I was there and I would show her who I was.
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"I am real," I whispered, stepping fully onto the porch. "Bella, I am."
Her head shot up and she looked at me – for the first fucking time, awake and knowing – she looked at me. And in her eyes I saw everything I'd seen the night before. There was no fear or question…just acknowledgement and acceptance.
And then she sobbed.
Her whole body was trembling and shaking, and I fell before her on my knees. And this time it was me, my words begging and pleading for forgiveness.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so fucking sorry for everything. For all of this. For everything that I caused. This was all my fault. All of it…and I'm so sorry, Bella. I never meant to hurt you…to…to scare you."
I lifted my eyes to hers, they were wet and deep and awed…but still there was no fear.
"You're here," she whispered. "It's you and you're here. I'm not crazy."
She reached out tentatively and touched my face. I knew that I was cold and hard. I knew that I was different. But her eyes didn't read that. They didn't show anything daunting and fearful. And her touch was like fire; it stroked and soothed me in a way that I didn't deserve. I didn't deserve it, but I submerged myself in the way her skin felt against mine. Her gentle touch that was far more comforting than any home I'd ever known.
"You're not," I whispered. "You're not…and I'm so sorry that I made you feel like you were."
I wanted to touch her, but I didn't know if I should…if she'd want me to. So, I just stayed there, kneeling at her feet and feeling her hand as she continued to touch my face and stroke my hair, knowing that with each touch she was breaking down my resolve.
"I can't believe you came back," she whispered. "I mean…I just can't believe you did. And you're real. I mean, I'm touching you…I can feel you and I don't understand any of it."
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry."
Again and again the words came from my mouth. It was as if I would never be able to tell her – to express to her just how sorry I was for causing all of this – for doing all of this.
"Why do you keep saying that?" she asked, her voice still filled with tears, but soft and warm and so accepting that I would never be able to understand. "Why? Why are you sorry?"
"You don't deserve this," I whispered. "You don't deserve any of this."
"I don't understand."
And there was the truth – the staggering truth that she didn't understand. Who I was. What I was. She didn't understand any of it.
"I know you don't," I told her. "I know you don't. And Bella…Bella, you shouldn't have to. You shouldn't want to."
I could feel her breath as it ghosted and blew across my face and her warmth was still heaven. She was still heaven and I didn't deserve it…I didn't deserve her.
"Don't do that," she whispered. "Don't do that again. You did that last night."
"You remember?" I asked. "You remember last night?"
"It was real, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. "You were…are…you are real. All of it really happened?"
And I didn't know what to say to her questions because I knew that she could and probably would hate me for the truth. But the truth was all I had, so I simply murmured, "Yes."
Tears filled her eyes again and even though I thought I knew what she was feeling, I was so fucking ashamed of myself for what I'd done.
For making her cry.
"Please, Bella," I said, my voice soft and low and thick. "Please, forgive me. When you woke up…I thought…I thought you wanted me. It thought you knew…"
"I thought I was dreaming," she whispered. "I thought…I thought…"
She bit down on her lower lip and the sound of her heart filled the silence.
"It was because of the Ouija board," she finally continued. "It was you, wasn't it? You spoke to me."
"Yes."
And then she looked at me as if she were trying to figure something out and I could feel her body tremble and I didn't want her to be afraid.
"Are you dead?"
How the fuck did I answer that question?
"Bella," I rasped. "Bella, I think we should go inside. There are some things I need to tell you."
"What?" she whispered.
"The truth, Bella," I said, lifting my hands to hers for the first time. She touched them softly at first and then squeezed them before sliding them into mine. "I need to tell you the truth."
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"Okay."
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A/N
Reviews are love.
Please levae me some.
Thank you to my beta and bestie, Marvar. I should be embarrassed by how many errors you find in my docs, but you never make me feel that way. I adore you and the way you make my writing better.
Thanks to Caren (Nerac), rainamd and ltlerthqak for pre-reading. You guys make me think about things and you always make the chapters better!
And thanks to everyone that is reading this story! Your comments and tweets and love in general make me smile and I can't tell you how much I appreciate each one of you. You guys are awesome!