Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own the plot.
A very special thanks to Verucasin, beta – extraordinaire.
AN:
This is a much shorter chapter than the first one, but I still hope you will like it.
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Chapter two
I took a deep breath. Good, I had that memory settled. I filed it mentally and stuffed it in the 'happy memories' box. That was one down, only a gazillion to go. There was no way I was making my way through them all. Would I ever heal? Again my paralyzing self-doubt stepped in.
I stopped my work for a moment. Mentally I was already exhausted, I had done one memory and I wanted to quit and flee with my tail between my legs. I wanted to go back to my world of rules and restraints to protect myself from all of this pain. So cowardly, that was what I did.
I woke with a wheezy gasp because I was dreaming again. I was mentally screaming stop, stop, stop! It was the worst when I was dreaming as it all seemed more real, like he was really here. I could almost see him, smell him, even touch his warm skin. I decided to continue my self-destructive healing process and started where I had forced the dream to stop. I pulled in a deep breath to settle my panicked mind.
Flash
Jacob had come home looking like a wounded dog that had lost his chew toy. I could tell something was wrong and I considered briefly if I should ask what was bothering him. A strange tension was lingering in the air and Jacob beat me to the punch. "I heard this rumor about you today." He mumbled while his eyes were glued to the floor, he almost looked embarrassed.
"What rumor?" I asked clueless and somewhat disinterested. It wasn't the first time the gossip revolved around me and I didn't care.
"Mike was being a jerk in gym today and he said some stuff about you... he didn't know I was in the room." Jacob said, still eyeing the floor with that vacant hurt stare.
When Jacob mentioned his friend's name, I froze. The only lie, not that I considered it a lie, I had ever told Jacob was a big one. He lifted his head and peered straight into my frozen eyes. He could read me well and I just chewed my lip furiously.
"It's true?" He shouted in horror. "What the fuck is this? Bella, how could you? You fucking lied to me!" His hand hit the kitchen counter with a loud bang. I jumped and yelped, still staring at him with my frozen eyes. My throat closed around the words I wanted to speak. There was no way out. "Please, Bella, tell me it isn't true... tell me I didn't beat the crap out of Mike for telling the truth? Please, Bella... this was ours, just ours." His voice turned pleading and regretful.
"I can't." I whispered feebly. I wanted to cry, I wanted to show him how sorry I was, but the moisture in my eyes was strangely far away. He pushed two fingers against each of his temples and when he closed his eyes I noticed tears forming. He was crying? I used to be the one to cry. This was a much bigger deal to him than it ever was to me. I knew this and that was the main reason that I had lied, or at least I hadn't corrected him when he assumed I had not slept with anyone when we started dating – that I was a virgin.
"You told... you said I was the only one!" The tenor in his voice was rising again and his anger was boiling over.
I just stood there, motionless, as I pondered if now was the right time to explain the whole thing. A few more words escaped my dry throat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I mumbled shakily.
"Sorry is not going to fix this." He yelled furiously. I was watching the tears rolling from the corner of his eyes. It looked so odd and beautiful at the same time. Was I enjoying his pain? No! No definitely not. Pleasure was not the feeling in the pit of my stomach - it was regret. Regret for what I had done, regret for not correcting his assumption, regret for having Jacob find out this way, regret for hurting him this deeply. I had never wanted to hurt my Jacob.
"I know... but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the whole thing." I emphasized. "I wish I could take..." He cut me off harshly.
"I don't wanna fucking hear it!" He snarled, his voice was beaten and tired. "Just... shut up!" His eyes were hard, betrayed as he had left the room.
I sat down at the kitchen table at my mother's house. Hours passed, but I wasn't sure how many. I was trying to figure out a way mend the situation, but I had no clue how.
"Why did you do it? I mean, why didn't you tell me?" His voice was calm again, he re-entered the kitchen. It was dark and silent now, just the methodical ticking of the wall clock.
I went for the absolute truth, seeing it as my only option to rectify the situation. "I regretted that I did it... basically before I had sex with Mike. I'm not sure why I did it at all. It was three weeks after I'd moved here and three weeks before we started going out. I felt so empty and I missed my friends in Forks. One afternoon he asked if I could help him find some obscure book in the library. It felt nice that someone thought I could help... and that's when it happened." I bit my lip, I was unsure of how much more information to give, how much he wanted to know.
"You did it at school?" He mumbled flabbergasted and his eyes widened with shock.
"Yes," I muttered as my cheeks heated with regret.
"Wow... no wondering he was bragging." It sounded like a joke, but his cold face told me it was far from it.
"How much do you wanna know? I will give you as much or as little info as you want." I offered quietly.
"I'm not sure." He sent me a halfhearted smile that didn't reach his eyes. "How much do you wanna tell? I'm not sure it is healthy to have too many details."
"Consider it my apology for not correcting you when you assumed..." I was bluntly cut off again another round of rage surfacing.
"Are you fucking kidding me!" His voice was painted red with fury. "I didn't assume a goddamn thing! You told me you never had sex before. You lied!" He growled at me. The words were laced with accusations.
"No." I countered, but my voice was small and unsure. "You assumed we were each other's first. I never let you believe otherwise, so if that is lying... then, yes, I lied. But I never said 'I didn't have sex.'"
"You're splitting hairs, Bella. Just tell me why you never said anything." I could taste the strain in his voice as he tried to keep calm and composed.
Breath, I chanted hoping not to panic. "It seemed so important to you that I was a virgin. I wasn't gonna burst you bubble and tell you your friend had already taken care of it. It just seemed like a bigger deal to you than it was to me. I already regretted I'd done it with Mike, but I couldn't take it back. So I basically pretended that it hadn't happened at all. So basically to me, you were my first, because I love you. I was in love with you and I was ready to make love to you and I wanted to. That's what matters to me, not a stupid mistake I made in some desperate state." I stopped talking wondering that perhaps that was too much information.
He was quiet for a while. "Thanks. That sounds like the truth." He mumbled and fortunately he was calmer again
"It is. But I'mtruly sorry for not being honest with you."
"I'm glad you're sorry. I'm sorry too." He said sadly, but there was warmth in his voice again. He walked around the table and picked me up to hug me. I buried my face in his chest. I started sobbing, letting my tears soak into his shirt.
"Don't cry, Bells. We can fix this. This doesn't have to matter between us." His voice had changed gritty. He started kissing my neck and his hands pushed up my t-shirt at the small of my back. There was a strange force behind his actions. His breath was already heavy against my skin and I could feel his erection pressed against my stomach. I clung to him feeling the need rise inside of my body. His mouth was eager and warm when it found mine. I muted my groan, as I melted into him. It was like he was out to prove something, like he needed to show me I belonged to him. We were equally desperate when we intensely made love that night.
We were eighteen at the time and we had been going out for 2 years.
I wished I had turned off the air conditioning on so the uncomfortable melting heat would distract me from my agony. I was debating which box to put this memory into. Bad or good box? This memory had conflicting feelings. Just like me, always conflicting, never trusting my own decision. I wish I could let go of my paralyzing self-doubt and stop second guessing myself all the time.
I parted the memory and shoved a little of everything in the 'happy memory' box and started an 'unhappy memory' box.
It was early in the afternoon and the heat was scorching. I decided I was strong enough to take a walk down the beach. It had taken me several days to regain enough strength since my stomach-flu to actually do something active today.
I had taken my shoes off and walked where the water met the sand. Right here, the sand wasn't too hot to touch with your bare feet. It felt good to move my body again after lying still for so many days, both from the flu and the excruciating roller-coaster of acknowledging my memories of Jacob. My mental boxes were starting to fill and it was getting easier to deal with all my memories I had to admit - it was helping. My mind seemed less crowded and had more room to appreciate my surroundings. I just realized I was staying at a beautiful beach resort, that had passed me by completely unnoticed. It was like a cloudy mist had dispersed from my eyes and I was able to see again.
As I walked, I enjoyed the sun, the heat and the way the water licked my feet with every lab of the small waves. I was almost around the peninsula, a few dramatic limestone cliffs that made out the cove of the Twong's resort. On the other side there was nothing but a deserted beach and a very small resort with a few primitive huts that seemed to have been abandoned for quite some time now. The huts were tattered and weather beaten, roofs caved in and floors sanded over. The main building had been taken over by a pack of stray dogs, leaving havoc with their playful fights. They lived in what seemed to be respectful harmony with each other and the tourists that made as far as this side.
I put my shoes back on, leaving the zone where the sand was cool from the water and stepped onto the burning beach. I had been here a few times before the flu had incapacitated me. I was here for a different reason now. Earlier, I went here to be absolutely alone, to escape even the few other guests at the resort. Now I really wanted to see the place, with my clearer eyes. And it was breathtaking. The beach was stunning, the sand pure white and even. The water was mainly still and a picturesque blue against the slight curve of the waterfront. The deserted resort gave this a place a mystical grace that made you wonder why anyone would ever leave this place. If I had seen it in one of those traveling catalogues I would definitely thought it had been photo shopped.
I sat down on the step leading up to the porch. I let my body slump forward and I rested my head on my knees. I sucked in a big breath as I was mentally preparing for the two memories I had purposely been avoiding. I didn't know when I would be strong enough to handle going them and filing them - if I ever would be strong enough for that.
I felt the panic seep from my mind as I was debating which one to start with. If the panic started even before I had visualized what happened, I was in big trouble. So I went with the easiest one - the wedding.
Flash
"I don't want to make a big fuss about the whole thing." I groaned.
"Sweetheart... this is a big fuss and it should be a big deal." Jacob had continued to push for a big lavish wedding.
"But Jacob, I just don't understand why we should spend that day with a bunch of people I hardly remember. They're just coming to stare… and maybe for the free food also." I countered.
"You can't really mean that, Bells. That's not fair." He admonished amused by my lack of enthusiasm.
I groaned. "That's just how I feel. Why can we cut the guest-list in half or we could elope? Now there's an idea." I cocked a brow at him, flashing my most innocent smile.
"Stop that. I also have a say in this. We're not eloping! I want our family and friends to be a part of this." His voice was firm and set and his lips rigid. I didn't see much chance in winning this argument. So I caved.
The wedding had been everything I never wanted. I started kicking the sand as I actually still regretted I hadn't pushed harder for a shorter guest list. The day hadn't exactly been my dream of a wedding; not that eloping would have been either.
I moved uneasily on the wooden seat trying to get more comfortable as my butt was going numb. Getting up, I noticed something under the porch. I dropped to my knees in the burning sand and reached in under the steps and pulled out a book. I sat down again and dusted it free of the fine grains and flipped the book open. It was leather bound and looked used, but still fairly new, like someone loved it and read it a lot. On the first page, sketched in block letters was a name: Edward Anthony Cullen. The sketching was finished with skilled three dimensional shadings. Several sketches decorated the page, all artistically performed to perfection. I realized this wasn't a book - this was a journal.
I flipped to the next page. There was a full size sketch of an innocent looking girl, with large eyes. It looked a little 'dear in the headlights' to me. But the girl in the picture was pretty. The opposite side was completely filled with writing from top to bottom. I chose not to read it as it was probably private.
As I went over the pages I started to feel horribly invasive, like I was trotting all over someone's privacy. All this stuff was surely not for me to read, I had no right to. The pages contained all sort of things; sketches, letters, clip-outs, pictures, articles, names, poems and photos. This truly was somebody's private collection of thoughts. I debated if I should leave it where I found it or if I should hand it over at the Twong's reception desk. Maybe they would recognize the name on the front page. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't someone from the Twong's resort that was the artist. The owner would probably never look for it there. Yet again, would anyone look for it here? How long had it been here? This was the kind of thing that should be returned to its rightful owner.
A breeze caught a few pages and flipped them over. I almost fell off the step as I gawked at the new full sized sketch. It was of a woman, crouched over a flower bed, a man at her side, holding a fistful of hair.
I groaned loudly. This just sucked! I was the woman in the sketch and I knew exactly who this belonged to. It could only be one person. It was the stranger with the overtly black hair and the deep green eyes. My eyes continued to the page beside the sketch. I sporadically read a few words that jumped off the page. 'The saddest eyes I have ever seen!', 'Even lonelier than I', 'Lost all the way into her bones'. 'Secrets.' What was this? Was this some kind of sick joke? Was he spying on me? How could he know all this? It felt like he was seeing right through me. How was that possible?
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