Howdy. chapter 10 has arrived. how exciting!

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Destiny

Chapter 10

I'm going crazy. I always knew I was a bit strange; getting up at insane hours in the morning, sticking to rigorous exercise regimes and hellish diets, but this is something else altogether. This is what going insane feels like!

What was Edward talking about? And why to Mrs Bishop? What is he not telling me? It must be about Tanya, I decided. They were going out and he didn't want me to know. But why? Why would he keep this a secret from me?

We've known each other for years, been through so much together, we're practically family. We have always walked to and from school together; we used to make all sorts of exciting things out of boxes and retreat to our own little imaginary world; we're always partners in whatever classes we share; we tell each other everything; we keep each others secrets; we trust each other with everything; we have such a laugh, I can't help but smile when I'm with him. So why wouldn't he tell me about him and Tanya? Because he's scared of how I'd react?

I guess I did come over a little angry but it's justified! I was outraged he's keep something from me! We always tell each other everything, without fail!

I decided I wasn't going to speak to him till he told me of his own free will- Some may say I was acting irrationally but I don' care. I won't give in.

But why do I care so much in the first place?

My head was starting to hurt from all the thinking and questions. And then I stopped thinking about why he wasn't telling me, and my thoughts turned to what he wasn't telling me: about him and Tanya.

I stuck my hand up, "Miss, I don't feel well"

She gave me a piercing glance, scrutinising my appearance as I felt my face drain of colour and beads of sweat roll down my temples as if my head was trying o filter out all the bitter thoughts. She nodded, "OK, go to the office and get a drink." Her face spoke of sympathy, but not just at my sudden illness. There was something else I didn't know about.

I didn't have time to question the inner workings of Mrs Bishops mind and why she made what faces; I slung my bag over my shoulder, my hands slick and hot, and raced out the classroom, down the staircase, through the corridor, past the office, into the bathroom and crumpled into a cubicle, locking the door in my wake.

I lifted the lid and groaned as I felt the bile rise from my stomach, like all my unwanted questions, thoughts and observations taking on a physical form and my body ejecting them. I wish it was that simple.

After I was sick I flushed the toilet though I was unable to rid the cubicle of the acidic reek. Closing the toilet lid I placed my clammy forehead against the cool porcelain and let out a low moan.

English was, potentially, worse than history. At least in history I had control over Bella. I knew what she was saying and what was going on. But in English I had to imagine what was going on in the class along the corridor and up the stair.

Edward wouldn't want to tell her in a note, he's much too in love to express his feelings so flippantly, but he wouldn't want to say it in class with onlookers and eavesdroppers. So where did that leave him? Curiosity physically hurt me as I strained to think of the outcome of Bella's, no doubt, heated interrogation. There was no question in my mind about it: she was going to grill him.

I sat idly in class, letting my thoughts spread over a vast expanse of painful possibilities. I was so preoccupied, so engrossed, in my reflections; I barely heard what the teacher was saying about Shakespeare. (Not that I listened normally.)

Romeo and Juliet: always spoken of with awe and admiration. Said to be the greatest love story. It's funny how many people forget it didn't end well.

For Romeo and Juliet.

When the bell finally rang for lunch, after an eternity of torture, I was last out the class, hesitating and delaying the inevitable. The teacher gave up waiting for me and told me to turn the lights off when I left.

I sighed as I wrapped my scarf around my neck and bent down to pick my bag off the dusty floor. I walked to the door, flicked the light switch and glanced out the windows to the glorious day on the other side of the glass.

And that's when I saw Bella slipping out the side gate and heading towards the small hills that bordered the school on one side.

I raced out of the class, pushing past a group of tiny first years that barricaded the door simply with their presence, and ran the length of the playground, ignoring the stares that followed me.

I needed to know what happened. I needed to know if I should let go of the one shred of hope I still had left, reserved for Edward. He might need my shoulder to cry on...

Something must be upsetting Bella or she would be going out of the other gate to have her lunch with Jacob in the small cafe up the street from the school. So something must have happened!

And I needed to know what!

It took me ten minutes to catch up with her-she walks so bloody fast- and by the time I had caught up with her we were on the trail leading up to the biggest hill.

She must have heard me approach for she spun around and I stumbled back at her wild appearance.

Her hair was messier, the effect of the high speed winds on the exposed foothills, and her face was read and sweating, from the exertion of the uphill trek. Her expression spoke of great confusion and her eyes flashed with anger when she recognised me.

"Bella, I-"

Interrupting me, she spat, "I don't want to talk to you, Tanya. Just leave me alone!"

My breathing was laboured from chasing her up the hills and only when I gave a quick glance back over my shoulder did I realise how far we'd come: the school lay below, in sight but it looked like dull rock from where I stood; the milling pupil, all but ants up here, voices couldn't reach this high. It was silent.

The wind whipped around my ankles, blowing up dust and I turned to face the rocky cliff face that accompanied the path to avoid getting grit in my eyes.

"Bella, what happened in English?" I pleaded, not facing her.

"What's going on?" she demanded, her voice as ragged as the cliff face and as attention commanding: you had to watch your step or it could be the last one you made.

I paused. I didn't know what to say.

She groaned and I heard her turn to walk away, but school shows were not designed for rocky paths and, typical clumsy Bella, she fell. I turned to reach out for her but I proved useless. She crashed into the cliff face, scraping her arm along the clawing rocks and fell with a thud, dust rising, her yell of surprise bouncing off the cliff and echoing down the trail.

As the dust settled, I saw her sleeve, ripped and red. I backed off and tried not to faint or throw-up as I took in the situation.

What the hell was I going to do?I know what is happening to me but it doesn't change anything, it doesn't help.

I know that I'm losing a lot of blood from my left arm. I know that this is because I severed the artery as I fell into the cliff face that runs parallel to the path, onto a particularly jagged rock. I know my body is going to shut down soon from the shock. I know the pain will fade with my consciousness.

I know that pressure should be applied to the wound; I know it should be bandaged tightly to restrict my arm from losing too much blood. I know that the dust that rose from my fall onto the dirt path is settling into the wound. I know that Tanya's pacing while she dials 999 is kicking up more dust; I know the stinging pain is the least of my worries.

Because I know Tanya wasn't paying attention to the first aid tutorial DVD. I know, as I sat next to her, she was texting. I know she doesn't know a thing about bandaging and applying pressure or even what the name of the artery I've severed is, despite her being my lab partner in biology for the past five years.

I lie on this red stained dirt path with Tanya talking frantically to someone on the phone – they're probably trying to coach her on how to apply pressure though I know she won't because she's petrified of blood- and the thing I can't help but notice, above the pain, is that this country path is ages away from the school or any houses. I know that when help arrives it will be too late. I know I'm not going to make it.

My vision blurs, my thoughts unravel and my frustration at Tanya's frantic uselessness, and everything else, fades into oblivion. My anger bleeds away. My brain has gone numb and cold. All feeling evaporates under the sun that tries to steal through my eyelids as they droop shut. As the pain subsides and my senses switch off I will a picture of him to the forefront of my hazy mind. He would want to be the last thing I think about.

I realise I want that too.

And then...

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