School was the worst part of my existence.
I was like a bug on the wall, nobody noticed me, and nobody cared.
Everybody's eyes slid straight past me, like I was part of the wall behind me, the chair I sat on, the floor I stood on.
They say be careful what you wish for, because it might just come true.
I remember that first day at Forks High, wishing I could fade into the background and become invisible.
And sure enough, I got what I wished for.
The worst part, though, was 6th period biology, sitting at that table all by myself, next to the seat He used to grace with his presence, where it all began.
Sometimes I'd skip altogether, leave school after lunch and drive down to La Push, see Jake.
He'd always make me feel better, and, sometimes, I could almost pretend my heart had never been broken at all.
It was another day at school, another day of being reminded of what could've been. The bench outside where I used to sit with Them when it wasn't raining. When girls were jealous of me, Him and I. They never realised how damn lucky they were, that He had spared them his charm, falsity, and heartbreak when He became bored.
There were all the empty tables for all those empty subjects that He used to fill with what I thought was love and joy.
Now they had all lost meaning and light, and school was nothing but a habit without a point. I'd sit at the end of the table with Jessica and Lauren and all those other people whose names I'd never bothered to learn. Every day, I would have to walk straight past that table I used sit at with Them every lunch, whilst They pretended to eat, whilst His arm would wrap around my waist and He'd whispe-
The hole tore open, and I couldn't feel my lungs or heart or all those other vital organs in my chest, I was struggling for air, I was going to suffocate-
"Are you OK, Bella?" asked Angela, a look of concern on her face.
No. I'm not ok. I've lost everything I thought I had and all I ever wanted, and you ask if I'm ok.
I nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine."
*
I was angry and scared and sorry and worried, all at the same time.
"Bella? Bella, what's wrong?"
Angry for the fuckwit that made her cry like this, even in her dreams, angry at myself for not being there to stop it.
The sobs that wracked her thin frame began to cease.
Scared if she was ok. Like always, the constant fear she's going to get hurt, trip or fall or cut herself.
I notice she's too thin. She hasn't been eating properly.
Sorry for leaving her. So goddamned sorry, I would trade anything and everything to turn back time and never leave her.
"Are you ok, Bella? Bella, can you hear me?"
Worried for her. Terrified for her. Worried about a million little things that niggled at the back of my mind like parasites.
She lifted her head from her pillow.
And I saw her face again. Just as beautiful, tired and tear-stained and panda-eyed and perfect.
She stared at me. She thinks I'm not real. She's pinching herself on the inside. I'm about to say something, anything, to break the silence that's grown between us, like a thick brick wall.
And that's when it happened.
Something in her eyes changed, and then she was yelling, yelling at me to get the fuck out, to go away and never return, and it hurts, it hurts so much like nothing's ever hurt before and it's killing me on the inside and why am I not ashes on the floor because I'm burning and burning and she stops to take a breath.
And I look at her one more time, and she's so beautiful.
She'll always be the one for me.
Even if I'm not always the one for her.
So I leave.
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