no time for rambling. gotta go tutor someone.

so, here it is. R&R, and i'll post more before i go to bed. :)

10. Abracadavers: The Classic Crime

November . . . .

The pain was worse than ever as I woke up, November seventh. I looked in the mirror at my reflection, unsure if I was really dead or alive. My pale skin was a sickly white color. My usually shiny white blonde hair was dull, average—white. Even my eyes, which used to always glow no matter what, were dulling down into just blue, not quite ice blue.

Looking into the reflection, I saw an image that disturbed me, made tears form in my eyes.

There's a girl staring at the mirror, not really looking at anything or for anything—just staring. She's a girl longing for love; a girl longing for joy. This girl has everything, but in everything, she has nothing. This girl is hated and loved. This girl is lusted for and trusted. This girl is beaten and bruised and scarred beyond belief. Looking out the window is the saddest girl.

She's a broken girl, scarred and battered but still strong. This girl doesn't trust easily, but when she does, she trusts you with everything she has inside of herself.

She longs for her love, that companion to hold her and love her; that companion she was stupid enough to fall for. But what she feared was more heartbreak, which would mean more pain than she already had. That was the last thing she needed was even more pain.

Yet she wanted to go for it, wanted to have this thing called love, which was almost guaranteed to bring heartbreak. It was just the facts, and she had seen it so many times.

Now it was her turn to go for it; to find this lost love and force him back.

This girl, who exiles herself in order to protect the ones she loves, who curses herself every day for keeping her dark secret that was necessary to keep; saw herself as worthless. In her eyes, she wasn't extraordinary, and she wasn't pretty. She was just a scarred, boring mess who had too much drama and complication in her life for her to find anyone bothering sane.

Unfortunately, this girl I was looking at was me.

There was so much I wanted to say to him. I wanted to look him dead in the eye, even though it'll be the biggest lie I've ever told, and say, "Go ahead. Move on. Forget all of our memories. Forget about me. But when you realize you made a huge mistake when you left me, don't come crawling back to me. I won't be waiting."

Why would that be a lie? Simple. I was gonna spend the rest of my life just waiting around for him, absolutely miserable.

Maybe the misery won't be so bad if I can just get over the whole "Blade" thing. Of course, it'll always hurt, but maybe I'll be able to smile without hurting.

I know what it's like to want to die. I know how it feels when it hurts to smile. I know what it's like to hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing that's inside.

The pain was starting to take over my body. I was conscious of what I was doing, but I was trying to direct the pain to physical and away from the never-ending emotional pain. I had to find some way to get through the day so I wasn't just a big pathetic unlovable loser. I would be just a pathetic unlovable loser, not a big one.

Pain is beautiful. When you feel pain, you know you're alive.

The first time, I was scared. I almost chickened out, but when I pulled the blade across my right wrist, I felt powerful. For the first time in the longest time, I controlled my pain. I controlled what I felt, and it was such a relief to be able to focus on something other than my internal pain.

Now, I had the urge again. So, I went downstairs and pulled the knife from the sharpener case it came in, the one located in the kitchen. Getting it out was interesting, because Bella was cooking dinner. It was sharpened, most definitely, since it was kept in a blade sharpener. I knew it actually worked. because when I lightly poked my right index finger with it, it started bleeding.

I was testing something too. As I put the blade to my left wrist, which was still completely numb, I felt absolutely nothing. The numbness was moving to my hand and getting close to the end of my fingers.

I had learned where to cut so it wouldn't kill me. I wasn't going suicidal . . . yet. Maybe if the pain doesn't die down in a few months. I can't take too much longer of this.

No, Mayze. Don't even go there. You know better. It's the weak man's way out . . . you could never do that, and you know it.

On to a lighter note . . . I hadn't cried in a week. I was determined to not shed another tear for him. If he didn't want this pathetic, unlovable loser, then fine. I wasn't gonna just cry about it.

Sometimes, you can cry until there is nothing left wet in you. You can scream and curse 'til your throat rebels and ruptures. You can pray all you want to whatever god you think will listen; and still, it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you.

Love hurts.

I say that because I know. Love is . . . or was . . . amazing. It's an incredible feeling to know what he's going to say. It's more incredible the way he had me on the edge of my seat because he was so completely random, I never knew what was coming next. It was hard to explain, but he filled some void in me, and now, without him, I was missing something again. I wondered if it will ever truly, whole-heartedly be filled again. I just didn't want to know what it was like to hurt any more . . . .

I sliced the blade across my wrist routinely, but the difference this time was the location—my numb left wrist that had a mark to prove it had all been real. What shocked me was the sound it made. It was like scratching fingernails down a chalkboard, but worse—much worse. It made an odd sound, that clinking sound a blade makes while being sharpened. My wrist, though, was perfectly fine.

Clearly, I was confused. I started poking around my wrist and anywhere it was numb, only to find the knife was chipping off into pieces. The pieces that chipped off got bigger as I put more force behind it. I gave up, though, when the knife was just the handle.

Why could I not cut myself there?

I guess that's a good thing . . . oh man, I really need to stop cutting in general.

What have I gotten into? Exactly the things I told myself I would never be so stupid to get into! Ugh!

I ran over to the mirror, horrified. Charlie had gotten a new bathroom installed downstairs, so he had his bathroom, Bella had hers, and I had mine. In my room, there was new furniture. The rocking chair was there, but he got a bigger bed with a Temper-pedic mattress on it, along with a couple Temper-pedic pillows; a new mini fridge, full of all kinds of Mountain Dews and other carbonated drinks; and a new desk with a really comfortable desk chair. It was great for crying your eyes out in.

Renée was starting to worry about me when I never answered her calls, I rarely ever emailed back, and I rarely ever texted. When I did, they were short and really morbid. She would ask how's life, and I would say it sucks worse than being in the fiery pits of fell.

But, that was honest.

Now that I noticed something was wrong with me, I saw my skin a different color than other parts of skin. My wrist, part of my left arm, and some of my left hand were a silvery white color, and the rest of me was pretty close to that. I looked a lot paler than I should, a lot paler than I used to look.

The front door opened downstairs, and my head turned towards the door instantly. Charlie?

They usually left me alone nowadays. Charlie was skeptical about leaving me alone at the house, because he thinks I'm thinking about going suicidal. Bella just tells him I'm not like that, and I'll get over it soon. She's right, though. I'm not like that.

You know how they say when you get dumped you go through stages—or when you get raped, you go through similar stages? You go through depression, then you're angry with yourself, then you're mad at them, and you finally get over it.

Well, if after four long months I was still in the depression stage, the stage that just keeps getting worse and worse, would I ever get over it? Would I die because the pain is just too much?

I didn't know the answer to that, but I did know I had to try. I had to try harder, for Charlie, Bella, Seth, Embry, and . . . him to get over it. I had made a promise, and whether he really loves me or not, I'm going to keep that promise.

And there's also Emmett, who was due back any time now.

Whether . . . he really loves me or not, I'll always love him. It was an irreversible thing. There was no moving on, no forgetting him, or anything. He said it would be as if they didn't exist, but how could that be true when there's a hole in my chest where my heart used to be? He took it with him, and I constantly dream about his perfect face. I hear his perfect voice . . . .

The way I heard it, it was like it was when we first met. The Southern accent influence I had on him was long gone. He sounded mysterious, like he was from the early nineteen hundreds instead of how he sounded when he left. When he left, he sounded more like he was from the twenty first century rather than the beginning of the twentieth.

And, let's not forget that Auggie was here, now getting kinda big—as big as she'll get anyways, which is only thirteen pounds. She's become my baby—as if she wasn't before—and Charlie lets her stay inside. He absolutely adores her, but he let her stay inside for me. Then, there was also the hypoallergenic thing . . . and the "inside dog" thing she had.

She was a small breed of huskies meant to be indoors.

Wow. Back to rambling? That had to be a good sign, right?

Anyways, I walked downstairs with the same blank face I kept on all the time. It showed no pain that I really felt inside, and it showed no fake happiness. It showed absolutely nothing. I couldn't even fake a smile anymore, and showing the pain would depress them beyond belief.

If they only knew . . . .

It had been Charlie—duh. He had five pizzas on his arm, doing his best to balance them as he shut the front door with a loose balance. The second he saw me, his eyes got concerned. "Hey, Mayze. How are you?"

I swallowed the lump that started building in my throat. It was a question I hated answering, because I had to lie, even if they could tell I was lying. "I'm fine."

Charlie sighed before gently placing the pizzas on the counter. "Bella's having some friends over. Jessica, Lauren, Angela, and Ashley. Do you want to invite anyone?"

"The only people I want to invite that are still here are Embry or Seth," I muttered. We still kept in touch, even in my depression stage. They were both shocked when I first told them, but at the same time, my old "skills" were telling me they were hiding something from me that I wasn't supposed to know.

But, they aren't, because that feeling is just a lie. My whole life has been a lie. If not, Edward was lying then.

I don't know which to go with, honestly. Emmett promised he was lying, but he also promised he would be back soon. Four months later? I'm still here without them.

"Well," he said cautiously. "I think we can make an exception this time. They're like your brothers. It'll be okay this time."

I looked up at him, unable to smile. Without a heart, you just can't smile. I wanted to, because that idea cheered me up a little, but I couldn't. "Really?"

He smiled at me warmly and nodded. "Yeah. You need something to cheer you up. I'll order a few more pizzas. Do you think I'll need to?"

"Probably," I said honestly while nodding, thinking about the last time I ate with Embry and Seth. "Can you get three more?"

"Sure," he agreed before gently hugging me. "Call them up, if you want. Tell them I said it was fine." Then, he frowned. "Then again, I'm not sure how Bella's friends would react to them."

"Probably drool over them the whole time," I mumbled under my breath. "They did that at prom with Seth. Embry wasn't there, which would've made—"

But I stopped myself. I tried avoiding these kinds of memories. Our dynamic cinco was no more. Now, it's the dynamic duo . . . Seth and Embry.

I don't have the spirit or the heart.

Seth and Embry were more than willing to come. They had been at Jacob's house, which was kinda surprising. Jacob wasn't really their biggest fan lately, and they weren't too fond of him either. Sure, they're like brothers, but, they hated the way whenever he was over, he would purposely say something about how E—he left. He would purposely hurt me, as if to prove himself right.

And he would purposely remind me that a vampire raped me and left me to die, because that apparently proves him right too.

"Jacob's coming over a little too," Charlie muttered. "I'm not too happy about it, but I have to be fair, you know."

"Oh, come on, Dad!" Bella exclaimed when she walked downstairs, coming down just in time to hear something she really didn't want to. "You've known Jake forever! Why do you hate him so much, yet you just adored her precious Edward, who doesn't even care about her?"

That hit home, deeply into my heart. She had meant to do it too, exactly what she did to me. It was obvious. The way she looked at me with that icy glare was proof she wanted me to suffer, severely.

Tears instantaneously started spilling down my cheeks as I spun to face her. "Yes he does!"

"You said so yourself!" she shouted back. "He doesn't care about you! He never did! It was all a lie!"

"When did I say that?" I demanded furiously. Now, these weren't so much pain tears as they were anger tears. Bella had just officially crossed the line.

"In your sleep," she said simply before crossing her arms too, like mine already were. "And, you don't lie in your sleep."

"Bella, I was having a nightmare," I whispered as more tears ran quickly across my face. They were like a flowing river that couldn't be stopped. You'd need a dam to do it, and I didn't have one anymore.

So much for not shedding another tear . . . .

"Bella!" Charlie exclaimed sternly. "That is enough! Why do you purposely torture your sister like that? It's clear she's upset that he's gone! He cares, or he wouldn't write her every day."

"Uh huh," Bella said disbelievingly, rolling her eyes. "If he writes her everyday, where are the letters? Why does he not call?"

"He doesn't get good service," I lied smoothly. "And, the letters are safely hidden where you'll never find them! They're personal, and I don't want you reading them."

"Right," she scoffed. "Or, maybe, just maybe, the letters don't even exist. Why do I get the strange feeling that you know he doesn't care, but yet, you're hopelessly waiting on him to come back to you?"

"Bella!" Charlie scolded. "That is enough! Not another word about Edward or Jacob. I have no problem with Jacob. He's been like a son to me for as long as I can remember!"

"Then why did you say it like that?" she asked icily. "Just admit it, Dad. You like Edward more than you do Jake, which makes absolutely no sense, since you don't even know the real him!"

My eyes shot wide open, hearing what she was talking about instantly and wishing with all of my being that Jacob hadn't been retarded and slipped. "Bella, don't."

"Bet you didn't know he was a bloodsucking vampire, did you?" she asked angrily as she stepped closer, ignoring me completely. "Bet you didn't know he wanted to kill her!"

"Bella!" I shouted. "Will you shut up?"

"No!" she yelled back. "I won't! He needs to know your beloved boyfriend wants to kill you!"

"No. He. Doesn't," I growled through my teeth. "Bet he didn't know your boyfriend is a filthy mutt, did he? Bet he didn't know he's a werewolf who just can't get to know a person!"

Charlie was just gawking at both of us. He looked freaked, but at the same time, he didn't look mad, at all.

Maybe this fight went a little too far . . . .

"You do realize you have just put his life in danger, right?" I asked coldly as someone knocked on the door. "Now, not only is my life in danger because of your stupid boyfriend and his stupid hints, but now, Charlie's life is in danger because of you and your big mouth!"

"Jake was protecting you," she hissed. "It's not his fault your curiosity put your life in danger. It's not his fault you never listen!"

My eyes narrowed. "It's not my fault he doesn't—"

"Girls," Charlie choked out, which cut me off. "I'm going to go get the pizzas. One of you have a guest. Get the door."

"Probably Jake," Bella observed before brightly smiling towards the door. "Alright, Dad. Have fun."

But he just walked out, not even saying another word.

Jacob was who it was. He walked through the door with a blank expression, like maybe he had heard the fight.

I just crossed my arms as his livid eyes moved to me.

So, I guess the stupid cat is out of the bag now.

Great. What a dangerous little kitty we've now set free.