Disclaimer: ( Sir Humphrey Davey invented the lamp, Philipp Griebel invented the garden gnome, but I did not invent Twilight)

this is a little weird. i'm not sure how to elaberate on that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Seven Days

Day One. Absolutely nothing happened. I folded the laundry that I washed the day earlier. I also called the repair guy for the washing machine.

Day Two. The repair man came to make an estimate. What an evil scheme. I would have to pay for him to tell me what I already knew about the washer. It was broken. Dysfunctional. Very much reflecting on my current condition. Maybe I needed a repair man.

Day Three. Nothing.

Day Four. Thought about Edward. Wondered why he left his family and everything behind because of me. Was I really worth it? Did he deserve to suffer on my account?

Day Five. Thought about Jacob. Enough said.

Day Six. The man came back to fix the washing machine. The whole time he tried to convince me that the dryer was due for a fixing as well. That it could work twice as efficiently. I tried to tell him that it was fine. The washer was the problem. I'm starting to think that they actually sent a salesman rather than a repair guy. Once he finished with the washer he left, but not without a grin. He gave me his card and said to call anytime, that he'd get me a great deal on a dryer. I took the card and crumpled it up once I got back inside. He probably tampered with the dryer while I wasn't looking. People amazed me.

Day Seven. Things Changed. It was Sunday. I'd accomplished nothing in the past week. I did have a feeling though…that something was happening. Whenever I turned my head something would flicker out of my vision. At one point I was laying on my bed with my head touching the floor. Waiting for the blood to rush to my brain, when a shot of red skimmed past my window. Was it a bird? The next incident occurred when I was washing dishes. I'd been watching the sudsy water drain when I heard something. I lifted my eyes to look out the kitchen window. The curtains were shut. I lifted one side and caught something sneaking away. A person. Who could that have been? You'd think I'd be worried, but by now I welcomed it. Who cared if someone hauled me off and killed me, I didn't. What was the point of living when there was nothing to live for? I rinsed out the sink and retreated back to my room. This continued throughout the week. Each turn of my head another sight of glowing red. A glow that always distinguished once I'd catch sight of it. I'd given up guessing about what it was, or who it was. I hadn't died yet, so I probably wasn't going to.

So today was Sunday. The holy day. The one day put aside in the week to spend with family and friends. But for me it was just day seven of the most uneventful week of my life. I wasn't religious or anything, but I wouldn't have minded some company. Being alone for such a period of time did things to people. If the flashes of red didn't help, the talking to inanimate objects certainly weren't making things anymore sane. Yesterday I attempted to make some toast. I ended up arguing with the toaster. It probably isn't surprising knowledge to know that it did not talk back. It troubled me that I had wanted it to. Maybe then I would have known why it ever so efficiently burnt my bread to a crisp. No amount of peanut butter in the world could of made that snack taste any better. I'd spat it out in disgust. Could I not do anything by myself anymore?

I turned to the living room and noticed the TV guide. I flipped through the pages and noticed that the MASH marathon was still playing. Maybe I'd watch that.