I know, I know...Waaaay too long...So lets just get to the story without any further delays...Excuses later...
CHAPTER_4
I noticed that while I was lost in memory, we had reached Jacob's home. The cab was parked outside his door. It was too dark—too late. The few lights that illuminated the street were out due to some reason. I saw him blindly take out money and give it to the cab driver. He fumbled with his wallet, when he had given the money he turned to me, and caught me tightly to lift me out of the cab, but I protested. I didn't need to be carried around.
"You, shush!"
He said it with such authority that I shut up.
He dragged me out of the seat and then held me in his arms as he led me to his door. This all felt so wrong even if he didn't mean to be that way…or maybe he did. But this wasn't what it looked like, but I still couldn't push away the feeling of guilt.
Somehow he got the door opened while carrying me. He flipped the light switch…no lights turned on.
Oh. The power was out. This was not a good area and the wiring kept blowing every now and then. Great! He too made an annoyed sound as he led carried me to the bedroom. In all the time I had been over his house—whenever I had run over here to find some peace—by some unspoken agreement I had never slept in his bedroom. I always slept on the couch in the living room, or at my favorite spot in this house: the roof. But now he carried to the bedroom. I didn't like it!
He laid me down on the bed gently, untied my shoes and let them fall to the ground with a faint thud, and then he went to the edge of bed, standing directly opposite to me. I stared at him…What else could I do? He stared back too and I could see how hurt he was seeing me in this condition. It pained him to see me in pain—as it would hurt me if he were hurt. He bent down to get the covers and pulled it around me. Then he went out of the room, without another glance back.
I lay back in the bed, blank. I couldn't think of a thing. In my blank state of mind at some point sleep took over me.
That night too, when I woke from a nightmare… shaking and drenched in sweat I sneaked up to the roof to enjoy the cool and refreshing air and Jacob too came up after a while…And, like that, we followed our bizarre routine.
The next morning when I woke up, unlike last time Jacob was sill there on the couch…
My head throbbed, trying to recollect the happenings of last night.
Then like cars zooming…it all came back…
I was sitting in the club listening to Jacob sing and when I was hit with the memories; the beautiful haunting memories…And I had ran out, to a bridge. I had not know any way of getting home and then Jacob had come to my rescue…I remembered the awkward encounter in his bedroom-Damn!—and then finally we were here…
Jacob stirred, waking up...
He insisted that since he was here today he would drop, but obviously it didn't agree with my rules so it was decided that he would drop me at a certain crossing that would not give me away and still get me as near to the house as possible.
We were downstairs now; drinking coffee like it was an age-old routine for us. He moved around me with ease as I sat by the kitchen isle… After a while he was ready to go…to work?
I didn't know where he worked, or if he worked. Was singing his only job or did he do it for his own gratification. As I thought I realized I really didn't know much about him. Hmm.
"Ready?" Jacob's voice broke my reverie.
"What do I need to be ready for?"
He looked at me oddly then gave up and went for the door. His bike—yes, bike—was parked by the door. He started the machine and called for me.
"Bella?"
"Yeah, coming." I got up form my perch and went outside closing the door behind me. He tossed me the key
"Lock it."
I did as he said. And took my seat on the bike and we started for the decided location.
He dropped me off at the fork and turned his bike around to go to…where? This question was still nagging in my brain. Anyway, I would forget about that right now and ask him later. And when I did I'd have to have no expectations of answers. After all even I had not told him anything…but my situation was different. It was extremely dangerous for me to share any information.
I walked to my home…which contrary to what Jacob thought, was very, very far from here…
By the time I reached home I was exhausted in every way. My legs ached from walking so long, my breathing a little labored, a fine sheen of sweat coating me.
I put the key in the lock, my head resting on the hard door for support.
As I got inside the house the phone started ringing, the ring sounding extremely loud in the otherwise silent house…and I was suddenly filled with joy I had not felt in forever. It was an all-consuming happiness. So strong that it threatened to knock me down. I ran to the phone as all the exhaustion was forgotten; I just ran.
When I reached the phone that was outside my bedroom I was panting heavily.
"Hello." My voice full hope of hope and anticipation. I didn't want it to be anybody else!
There was a small sigh on the other end.
"Hello? Hello, Edward?" I knew it was him.
"You were not home last night."
I closed my eyes. It had been too long since I had heard his sweet, velvety voice. It was music to me. I was lost in it, feeling it every inch of my body. I was under.
I was so lost in the pure perfection of his voice that I had not registered what he had said.
You were not home last night. What did that mean? That he had called last night too, and I wasn't here to receive it? Oh God! I was sad. But then that sadness was replaced by anger almost instantly. Of course I wasn't home last night. Who was there waiting for me? No one! Who was there to worry over me? No one! For whom would I care to come home? No one! There was no one that cared.
"There is no one."
"What?" He asked slowly.
"Who is there waiting for me at home?" I repeated my earlier thought to him.
"Bella…Please tell me you're being careful. That you're not putting yourself in unnecessary danger?"
"I'm okay."
He sighed. "You know why this has to be this way." He was frustrated. With what? With me, or with the situation?
"Do I? Do I really? I don't because you never really bothered to explain it to me properly! You just locked me inside these four walls and left—left with no promise of returning ever. It's not fair to me! I don't deserve this!" I yelled at him, I felt bad for taking it all out on him—he had called in a such a long time—but that right there was the problem, and I was too mad. I just couldn't control it, it was all coming out word by word. "Who is there waiting for me at home, Edward? Tell me! No one—you're not here. You're not here to care if I'm dead or alive, if come home at night or not, whether I'm drowning myself in alcohol or not!"
There was a long, agonized sigh on the other end. "I care," I heard then. His was so muted that I almost didn't hear it.
"How do I know? How do I know that you even have one ounce of love left for me?" This was all so very wrong. I knew he loved me; very much. He had never loved anyone but me; he hadn't been able to. And I was hurting so much by my words, it broke my heart, but like watching the scene unfold from outside, I couldn't do anything to change it. So I continued. "All I get from you is one phone call a week, for which I wait every second, and nothing else. I don't know where you are! Whether you are safe or not, hurt or okay! Do you have any idea how I survive the rest six days, worrying over you, and hoping that I get another phone call and that the next time I talk to you, not be the last time!"
"I'm sorry." He said simply. "I love you…so much" he said with such fervor that I couldn't do anything but believe him. Believe that he cared.
And that was it. I couldn't listen to him telling me he loved me still. It was beyond my power to bear. I picked up the phone in both my hands and smashed it hard on to the floor. It shattered into satisfying pieces, attaining the same state as my heart. Now I was no longer able to hear his beautiful voice, saying those hurting, beautiful words and there was pain creeping back up already. As much I had been mad while talking to him, it had felt like us again, having any other argument, never mind what we were fighting about, but that had almost felt normal; like any other couple having a fight. But now—now I was painfully aware of how not normal we were. And the pain pulled me under, drowning me.
I was sitting at the window seat, doing what else—drinking. Staring at the locket in my hand that held the picture of the most beautiful face that had ever existed. I was gazing at the picture as I literally drank my sorrow. With my eyes locked on the pendant, I raised the bottle for another sip but I tasted none of the burning fluid on my tongue. The bottle was empty. On top of everything that had happened today, this was just perfect!
I needed the alcohol. I needed it right this second. I felt like was losing my mind, my already wet eyes sprang up new tears. I was losing my mind. I ran as agitated hand through my hair tugging at the ends, trying to produce pain. I looked around in sheer desperation for anything that would smother burn inside me. Nothing.
"Arghh," I screamed at nothing in particular. I screamed again and again till my throat burned! It was freeing. Why wasn't there any whisky in this house! I was an alcoholic after all.
I ventured outside, there was trashcan nearby, full of bottles thrown out by me and nothing else. I scoured it, hoping to find even one drop of, what had become my life line. It was all empty—empty. All of it! Argh!
It was chilly outside so I turned to go back into the house. Reaching the door I turned the doorknob, it didn't budge. I tried again—nothing. I shook it, taking all my frustration on it, though I knew it was jammed and wouldn't move an inch no matter what I do. This was just going great.
And then when without even thinking about it I walked to the house of the only friend I had in the this whole world—my best friend, who loved me for some unfathomable reason. For whom I was starting to develop a whole new kind of addiction, very different to my addiction to alcohol.
I knocked on his door, I don't know how loud a sound came. And why wasn't I using the doorbell? God knows.
He opened the door a little bit, the chain on the door still in place. I could see a part of his head through the little opening.
I peeked through the slight opening. "Can I get a little—" I held up my thumb and index finger to indicate 'little', —"whiskey?"
He sighed heavily as he took in my condition, and unhooked the chain to open the door wide.
I was on the roof—again. It must seem I like I end up here too often but this was the only place that offered me a feeling of at-least pseudo freedom. It overlooked the whole of Seattle, all of its lighting shining like stars on the black sky, making me feel free…like a bird…The wind blowing uninhibitedly, touching my face, my cheek—caressing it. The dew saturating in my hair my slowly, calming me, refreshing me, giving me a new life like I was a flower. Away from the dirty mess that was my life now.
Jacob came up the stairs behind me, I turned to see him carrying two glasses and a bottle in a tray. I smiled, thanking him.
Tonight I was on the worn out couch and Jake took my usual spot, laying on the ground, while I drank from the bottle he had brought up—the glasses all forgotten. We stayed like this a long time. It was silent except the sound of liquid sloshing against the glass, and the faint rustle of wind blowing. Jacob calmly gazed at the sky, both of us lost in thoughts...It was so relaxing and was enjoying the feeling.
Suddenly, Jacob sprang up to a sitting position, a kind of determined look on his face.
"Why do you drink so much?"
I snorted and chugged down another mouthful. I couldn't explain this…
Jacob had always wanted to know where I got this habit—addiction—from. I had never really told him, just blaming it on the pain of the past, which was true, but never the whole story.
But tonight, with Edward's phone call such a recent event, my wounds were open, bleeding again. And I was greedy, desperate to accept any medication and at the time it seemed like talking to Jacob about it was the best cure. So I accepted it, even it might prove fatal—for both of us…
Tonight I was ready to let it all out, tonight I wanted talk about the pain I had never talked about, but had kept it locked away in the prison of my heart…
Tonight I would tell my best friend everything—the joy, the immense happiness and feeling of being whole, the pain, the loss, the pain of being cut into half… Everything…
Sooooo…There it is… I know it took ages but it has been very busy lately…School…Finals… A lot of work…
Do I have any readers, still? Hehehe!
I wrote this chapter in bits and pieces, whenever I got time from studying, so I'm very sorry if this is a little choppy…and BAD…
Anywhoo…So Bella is gonna tell her story…Are you guys interested in hearing it? Tell me! Reviews are best way to show me some love…or hate…
P.S I have an one-shot up…Its an I.C one…Check it out…