CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Relentless

Edward looked like hell. Agonizingly beautiful hell. I wanted to damn him there for all eternity, but as it stood, I could barely open my mouth to speak, let alone propel him to Hades.

I rallied against the shock. Leaning further out the window, I bellowed the only word capable of fighting its way out of my throat. "Leave."

"I think I need to stay." His eyes begged up at me for what a lesser girl would mistake for forgiveness.

"Get gone, Edward."

"I can't." He sounded lost, and I wished that were the case.

Without warning, he climbed the tree next to the house and straddled my windowsill. I shied away from him with a single step before the backs of my knees collided with the edge of the bed. I sat down slowly, disbelieving that after months without hardly a wayward glance, he was now halfway in my bedroom, staring at me as if I were the lion rather than the lamb.

I fisted my quilt. Hoarsely, I snarled, "You can't be here."

He swung his other leg over the sill and leaned forward, still seated, his forearms against his thighs, supporting his upper body. His face was a foot from mine. Again, cautiously, inexplicably he pleaded with me. "Tell me why you want me to leave you alone, why I should go."

I aimed to scoff, but my lips twisted and instead it came out as a whimper. "You know why."

"I need you to say it. Tell me you hate me. Tell me I disgust you." His face clouded with desperation. "Make me believe that you don't love me, that you never did, that you never could." He rose from his seat in the window and hovered over me. "Because right now, I'm no longer capable of forcing myself to stay away from you."

"You're a terrible liar."

"No, Bella, I'm a fantastic liar." He spoke with shame rather than the arrogance I expected. "And therein lies the problem."

"I don't believe anything you say; I know what you're doing." My words crowded each other so that vulnerability couldn't creep into my voice.

"Thank God someone does, because I certainly don't." He retreated back to the windowsill and sat down, where his head dropped into his hands.

I'd never seen Edward flabbergasted. He appeared torn between bolting out the window and setting up camp at the foot of my bed. I marveled at the bewilderment playing on his face before I realized I was falling into his trap. His reactions had to be planned, yet they came across as natural. He was right; he was a fantastic liar.

"I'm not going to ask you what you're talking about." I lifted my chin in defiance. "I'm not that stupid. So stop pretending—" I stopped myself, barely able to say the words that needed to follow—"Quit acting like you care about me."

I tasted the spite on my tongue, and I wanted to feed off the cruelty and use it as a weapon. The anger simmering inside me ate away at my denial, allowing me to finally confess to myself what I'd known all along: I hated Edward.

I hated him because I loved him.

I hated him because he didn't love me back.

Despite what I told myself about not having a right to fault him for rebuffing me, I did. I'd been doing it for months but never allowed myself to admit it. My hate wasn't fair or rational. It was rooted in the pain of his rejection and the loss of his company. It was immature and selfish and wrong…but undeniable.

And now he stood before me, trying to worm his way back into my life when he had to know the sight of him tore me apart. Finally, he'd done something to deserve my revulsion. Seething, I wanted to revel in his uncharacteristic nervousness, even if it was fabricated. I tried to glare at him, but my shaking hands weakened the impact.

Edward stared right back at me, fortitude flashing in his eyes, erasing all traces of his earlier confusion. His sudden burst of confidence enraged me, jarring me back into reality, out of the lure of his mind games.

A sudden chill against the exposed skin of my arms reminded me the window was open. The words I'd initially meant to throw at him when he'd first arrived returned in my memory and flew out my mouth. "Where the hell do you get off sneaking into my bedroom while I'm sleeping?! For Christ's sake, do you have any idea how creepy that is?"

"Keep your voice down," he shot back in a tenor hushed but hard with authority. "You'll wake your father."

My mouth gaped open for a string of seconds before I chided, "Good. You do realize that he's the chief of police? And that you're pretty much some pervert who spies on me while I'm unconscious? What makes you think you can just barge in here as if you had a standing invitation?"

"I never came in until this week, after I discovered…what he did to you." He shook his head once and then determination commandeered his tone. "I wanted to ensure you were alright. You shiver when you sleep. You're not warm enough. And sometimes I keep you from shifting, because if your bandages get loose, you could get a bacterial infection or rip out the stitches—"

"You touch me?" My face warped into an expression of horror.

"You're a heavy sleeper."

"That's the worst apology I've ever heard," I snapped.

"That's because I'm not sorry."

I wanted to wring his neck, except that would mean making physical contact, so instead I settled for attacking him verbally. "You are not allowed in here. Ever again. Do we understand each other?"

He stood and shut the window. This would have been fine, except that he was on the wrong side.

Rather than fade into the cold, howling wind, he hovered next to my dresser. Tree branches clawed angrily against the window pane as he slid down the wall so that he sat at my feet.

As if my question had gone unasked, he studied me and implored, "I need to be able to leave you, Bella. Tell me to go away."

"Go away." I propelled the words at him with all the force as I had in me, but the fact he didn't move told me it wasn't enough.

"Make me believe that you want me to go."

I was exasperated, having no idea what he wanted; Edward had never before needed an excuse to abandon me. Yet, here he was, barging into my bedroom and then pleading with me to force him to leave.

Fortunately, I had no problem telling him what he wanted to hear. "I'm not lying! I don't want to see you or talk to you ever again. I don't want you coming in bedroom while I'm sleeping. I don't want you lurking around in my yard. I don't want you. Period."

Nothing I said seemed to stick. Instead, every word bounced off him, leaving him unscathed and in his own world. His gaze fixated on a photograph atop my dresser. My mother and a six-year-old version of me flashed him smiles he didn't deserve. Moving to his knees, he reached up and traced the corner of the frame with his thumb.

Reality caught up with him as he caught me watching him, and Edward withdrew his hand from the photo as if I'd smacked his wrist. He refocused down at the carpet, his Adam's apple bobbing once as he swallowed.

He sat impossibly still against the wall until I opened my mouth to again demand his immediate departure. Before I could speak, his head snapped up, his eyes open as far as they could go, casting a wide net from which I could not escape.

"You talk in your sleep."

As soon as he said it, terror clouded his expression as he awaited my reaction. But then, before I could enjoy in the fact that I could make him squirm, the part of me I'd sworn was dead resurrected itself: My face scorched scarlet.

Of course, he saw it. As recognition crossed his face, his distress gave way to an appalling display of awe and muted ecstasy.

I covered my eyes with the heels of my hands, humiliated that he could still do this to me and that he seemed to revel in wielding that power.

Yet…he looked at me like he used to, back when we snuck brushes of physical contact in the hallway and knowing smiles in English class. My hands, my traitorous shields, trembled at the realization: I loathed him, but I probably loved him even more.

And the worst thing about it was that he probably knew it. Without fail, my unconsciousness was filled with him. In my nightmares, he left me over and over, even when I'd beg him not to. In my dreams, he stayed, and we were stubborn and stupid and happy. Together.

I didn't have to ask what he'd heard me say. I already knew he'd heard too much.

I couldn't do this. Not again.

I wasn't a fast runner, not that even Olympic sprinters would have a prayer of escaping from an obstinate, self-righteous vampire. So I did the only thing that could grant me reprieve. "Daaaaaaaaaaad!"

Edward's eyes widened. Both of us heard Charlie shuffling out of his bed and into the hallway.

"We're not finished," Edward hissed before the window opened and closed in a chilly blur.

"Bella!" My door flew open to reveal Charlie panting, his .38 revolver in hand.

"I-I thought I heard a noise." My eyes were still attached to the window.

"You sure it wasn't one of your nightmares?"

"You…know about those?"

He scratched the back of his head. "You've always been a pretty, uh, vocal sleeper."

I'd missed the broadcast on CNN; apparently, the universe at large was privy to my nocturnal admissions. I pulled the covers on the bed over my legs. "It's cold in here. Would you mind moving the dresser over in front of the window?"

Charlie squinted at me in response. He looked like such a cop. It was probably the gun, but I also gave credit to the way his face contorted into suspicion.

"There's a draft." My voice was small. I wondered if Charlie could smell my lie.

He didn't say anything but moved his weight against the corner of the dresser and gave it a couple of hearty shoves. In its new location, it covered the lower half of the windowpane. I knew it wasn't enough to stop Edward, if in fact he'd meant what he'd said and planned another unwelcome intrusion. But it would make his job harder. Noisier.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Charlie left my room. I heard him stomp down the stairs, and the squeak of the front door told me he'd gone outdoors to investigate the source of my waking nightmare. He could search forever. It would never be enough to make me feel sane.

X X X

The next morning, Charlie chauffeured me to my doctor's appointment. I was scheduled to see Dr. Gerandy, but fate mocked me and somehow I ended up with Dr. Cullen.

"This is convenient," I muttered as he checked my vitals.

He smiled. "I thought it might be best if you saw a doctor who actually knew what he was dealing with."

"An expert in werewolf attacks, are you?"

Dr. Cullen chuckled. "I've been around the block a few times, Bella."

He was so calm. I tried to resist, but his peaceful demeanor was contagious. I had no reason to trust him, but then again, I had no reason not to. I waited for the onslaught of inevitable, probing questions, but they never came. Dr. Cullen withdrew supplies from the nearby medicine cabinet, all the while not saying a single word.

He moved to my side and examined my wounds. My back looked like a gory, flattened candy cane, a contrast of still-red slashes and pale white skin. Yet Dr. Cullen didn't bat an eyelash. It seemed that he really had seen it all.

My shoulders relaxed, the snarkiness dissolving as I asked, "It's not infected, is it?"

"No. It appears fairly clean." His tone and his touch were gentle as he peeled back yesterday's bandages. "Alice has been taking good care of you."

Reluctantly, I admitted, "She has."

Dr. Cullen was silent as he inspected my stitches. The quiet left me to stew in the fresh aftertaste of guilt. Alice had taken good care of me. I hadn't asked her to, and whenever she'd patched me up, I'd offered her my thanks. I knew she wanted friendship rather than gratitude, but friendship meant trust. And I'd already wasted all I'd had on the wrong person.

The remainder of my interaction with Dr. Cullen played out like a page from the Physician's Desk Reference chapter on generic bedside manner. He told me to keep the stitches dry and if I was lucky, they could come out in a few weeks. He didn't sugarcoat the extent of the scarring either, and I appreciated his candor, though I was far from reconciled with my permanent disfigurement.

"How are you sleeping?" He was careful not to look me in the eye, telling me he already knew the answer.

"I need stronger sedatives. Something that will knock me out for the entire night." Even if I couldn't keep Edward away from my house, I could keep him out of my head.

Dr. Cullen didn't bother with the usual lecture about the addictiveness of painkillers. He only nodded once and scrawled something in loopy handwriting on an Rx script.

As he handed it to me, shame etched in his expression. "I hope things improve for you, Bella."

I wrung my hands together and changed the subject. "When can I go back to school?" I knew I'd need permission from a licensed professional before Charlie would let me out of the house again.

"As soon as you feel you're up to it, provided you take all the necessary precautions."

Relieved at the prospect of being released from house arrest, I replied, "I will be the poster child for caution, I promise."

The words "Bella" and "caution" fit together like motor oil and peanut butter, but he seemed to believe me and smiled slightly in response.

My voice met Charlie in the waiting room before my body did. From the corridor, I boomed, "Dad, take me to school."

It was nearly eleven o'clock, and I'd only be subjected to a half day, so Charlie reluctantly agreed after hearing I had Dr. Cullen's blessing.

When we pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes later, I felt suddenly nervous. I hadn't been back at school since the altercation between Edward and the Quileutes, and now I would finally feel the aftermath.

There would be curious glances and idle gossip. Mike would hover around, breathing down my neck. And I'd inevitably encounter Edward himself.

My stomach tightened, but the reason I wanted to come back hadn't changed. I needed to move on, to force my way back to normalcy, and I could never do that if I spent my days in solitude, chained to the living room couch.

I grabbed my book bag from off the floor of the cruiser, gulped in a deep breath, and walked toward fourth period.

Class hadn't started yet, and the halls were abuzz. I felt the stares and heard the whispers. But I kept walking with the knowledge that eventually, my classmates' mindless chatter would focus on another unwilling subject and I could go back to blending into the background.

I passed by Mike. He grinned. Next, Lauren. She didn't.

And then there he was, leaning against my locker, his stance cocky but his face haunted.

I groaned and vowed not to resort to violence, if only to avoid causing a scene. "Move."

Edward complied but only shifted enough to allow me to reach the combination dial. He leaned over me as I pretended the blood in my veins wasn't boiling.

I shoved my jacket into my locker without looking up, but my disinterested façade was shot to hell with a single, tentatively murmured request. "Have lunch with me."

I slammed the door shut with a reverberating bang, and instantly we had an audience. Snapping my gaping mouth shut and ignoring the probing eyes, I stalked away from him without dignifying his ridiculous offer with an answer.

Fourth period passed way too fast, and when it ended, for the first time in my life, I was desperate for the company of Mike Newton. I'd always noticed that Edward never seemed to approach me when I was with other people, so all I needed was a buffer to repel him.

When I didn't spot Mike in the hallway, I considered my old haunts in the library and girls' restroom but knew hiding was pointless. Edward could find me anywhere.

I spied Jessica and Lauren walking to the cafeteria, sucked up my pride, and made my way over to them. "Hey."

"Uh, hi," Jessica responded.

Lauren focused on examining a strand of her hair for split ends.

We formed an awkward trio as we headed through the lunch line, Jessica prattling on about prom, me "yeahing" and "umming" to Jessica's questions about dress-shopping, Lauren scoffing under her breath in response to every sound I made, hating me even more than usual.

I made my way over to the table and sat down, careful to keep my back straight and away from my chair. Mike was checking on me instantly and mistook my pained expression as a result of my wounds.

"Really, I'm fine."

"You look upset." He inched a bag of Oreos at me. "Here, take one."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. And I'm not upset." My words were negated by my face. Across the cafeteria, Edward sauntered through the doorframe.

I jerked my head down and shoved a cookie in my mouth so I would have an excuse not to speak.

Lauren took advantage of the silence. "Don't worry, he's not even looking at you."

"Good." My voice broke the word in half. I swallowed my cookie and tapped the corner of my lunch tray with trembling fingers.

I was met with a consensus of disbelief from the rest of the table.

Jessica zeroed in on me, impatient to ogle the elephant in the room. "Oh, come on, Bella. What was that about on Monday, anyway?"

"Nothing." I couldn't lie, and for once, all of them knew it. My voice had been too quiet, too uneven.

I wanted out of their sights immediately, but I had nowhere to go. Instead, I was forced to watch Jessica's face contort into a whiney, babyish pout. I would have gagged, but my entire body was focused on trapping in the sob that threatened to escape from the pit of my stomach.

Jessica, blind to my pain, pushed on. "I heard they wanted to suspend him for a week for fighting on school property, but Dr. Cullen bribed the school board so that he just got off with a slap on the wrist." She focused her wide eyes on me. I shuddered at the thought of the sort of information she wanted out of me.

"I don't want to talk about it." I wrapped my arms around my middle and rocked forward slightly. I was showing weakness but shamefully hoped that pity would shut Jessica up.

"Please, Bella—"

"Jess…" Angela's warning trailed off as her gaze caught on something over my shoulder.

The expressions of my tablemates told me all I needed to know. Angela's shock, Mike's seething frustration, Jessica's rabid fascination, Lauren's poorly concealed envy… The empty seat to my left drug against the tile, and I knew the identity of its occupant without glancing up from the table.

No one bothered to pretend they weren't hanging on our every move. I yanked up my head to glower at him like an atheist eying a crucifix, but the effect was ruined when a tear stained its way past my chin.

He moved closer and whispered, "Let's go."

His voice, deceptively tender, rivaled the screeching of a baby on a ten-hour flight.

I cowered under the sickening sweetness of his breath. He was clearly insane, and I wasn't far behind.

Nothing I could ever say could convey to him what his fire-and-ice attention span was doing to me. Too quickly, I pushed myself up from the table, protest stabbing from the overstretched skin on my back. The ripping sensation would end me if I ran. I hobbled instead.

Out to the parking lot I stumbled, only realizing my truck was at home when I'd reached the empty space in which it was usually parked. I didn't have my jacket, but I started walking. I was blind and chilly, though the temperature didn't bother me. Hot or cold, I'd be shivering regardless.

Although his movements were soundless, I knew Edward was walking several paces behind me. I didn't turn around. I just kept shuffling down the sidewalk.

Home was roughly two miles away. It was early spring but still felt like winter. I couldn't keep running. Edward was relentless, and I understood that I needed to grow up and face him in order to quell his pursuit. Detouring through dead grass and melting snow, I led the way into a deserted park.

I stopped.

So did he.

I didn't turn to face him. "You have something to say."

"I do."

"Then say it and go." Giving him a chance to speak his mind was my only chance to escape him; the more I ran, the more he chased me.

My teeth were chattering, and the moisture on my face chilled my skin. I jumped as I felt something drape lightly over my shoulders.

His jacket.

It had no semblance of body heat, and it smelled like him…but I was tired of fighting his every gesture and I knew where to draw the line. A jacket meant nothing other than warmth, so I shoved my arms through the too-long sleeves. My back still to him, I muttered, "I'm freezing. Don't think you're getting to me."

"I can drive you—"

"No."

I drifted over to a picnic table and sat down on a scattering of muck and leaves that covered its bench. "Talk."

He lowered himself down across from me and hunched forward. I put my hands behind me, gripping the edge of the bench, and leaned back, away from him.

Edward's head bowed. He looked up me through his lashes, his eyes sad and conflicted. It still affected me, and I had to fight to remember that he wasn't the boy I once I thought he was.

When he continued to stare in silence, frustration cracked my hardened exterior and I asked, "What do you want from me?"

He lifted his hands and held his palms open to the sky. "I don't want anything from you."

Wincing at his lie, I shot back, "I won't let you use me to get to—"

"I'm not using you, Bella. Deep down, you already know that."

In the biting wind, my face burned. "Like hell I do! You suddenly talking to me only came about because of what he did."

"I'm not disputing that."

My jaw unhinged. "So you admit it?"

"I admit that I wouldn't be forcing my way back into your life if that bastard hadn't attacked you with his filthy—" He stopped cold when he saw me flinch. The anger drained from his eyes, and he froze completely for a split second, watching me, before his upper body inclined in further, toward the center of the table. Retreat wasn't an option; if I moved back another inch, I was going to fall off the bench.

"I want to decimate him for what he did to you." The harshness of his tone mellowed as Edward continued, "However…this isn't about them—about him."

My resolve crumbled further as melodrama and confusion overtook me. I whispered, "Why do you hate me? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I need to leave you alone. I wish I was still strong enough to walk away. But I'm not, Bella, and I'm certainly not doing this because I hate you."

Like a petulant teenager I pretended not to be, I snapped, "Well, I hate you."

He averted his eyes to the table before closing them altogether. "I need you to mean that."

I needed me to mean it, too.

My vocal chords felt thick and scratchy against my throat. I spoke louder to compensate, but I didn't sound the least bit intimidating. "Before I met you, my life was boring and safe and normal. At the time, I thought I was happy, but now I know that I hated every second of it. And then I found you and thought you were the fate my life was supposed to follow. I made a mistake, and I'm trying to move on from it, to go back to my God awful normal life and forget all about you, but you won't let me." The superficial anger faded, my face flaccid and empty in its shadow. "I hate you for that."

He opened his eyes and roved them meticulously over every pore on my face. His brows lifted slightly, changing his entire demeanor from tortured to resigned.

"You said my name," he whispered, eyes glued to my lips. "Last night, in your sleep. You said my name."

"I have nightmares." I memorized the flecks of peeling paint on the table, struggling to rein in the tears pooling above my lower lashes.

As if reminding himself, he mused, "You said it over and over. At least twenty times. You asked me not to leave you."

Out of my periphery, I saw him rise, walk around the table, and stop next to my spot on the bench. When he crouched beside me on the ground, I kept myself rigid for fear of coming undone. The proximity between us rivaled our closeness the night I learned what type of person he really was—or, rather, wasn't. In a mirrored reflection of that evening, Edward's actions reversed—this time, he leaned in further under the light of day instead of cowering in the darkened wilderness.

My only weapon was my words, which I shot out at him quickly so he couldn't exacerbate his heartless seduction. "You're fickle, remember? You're tired of me. You don't want me."

He kneaded his fingers into the frozen dirt at his feet, refusing to take his eyes off me. It was infuriating and soul-crushing, all at once, but nothing compared to the reminder that followed. "That night in the forest, you said you loved me."

"I was wrong. You were right—I didn't know you." He wouldn't stop leaning into my personal space. I scooted down the bench.

He continued, ignorant to everything I'd said, "I didn't believe you."

"I'm glad," I shot back, if only to fill the silence. Because, really, I couldn't find reason in my words if my life depended on it. It didn't matter that he didn't believe that I loved him; it mattered that I'd said it. The sting came from his rejection, not his disbelief.

"But then, I heard you, Bella. I finally heard you." His eyes lost focus briefly as he dwelled in the recesses of his memory. He repeated his sickening catchphrase, savoring the words as they tangled in his tongue, "You said you loved me—"

"I told you—"

"—three nights ago. In your sleep. You said it again." Edward breathed heavily, as if I'd siphoned the oxygen he didn't need from his lungs. "And I believe you."

"Shut up." It was the absolute wrong thing to say, spoken like a ten-year-old pleading with the schoolyard bully during recess, but I had nothing left. No strength. No defenses. Just empty, juvenile words.

"I wished I could force myself to believe that it was a lie, that you're just some lovesick child…but when you said it, even though you were unconscious…" He trailed off, his forehead creased in embarrassment.

When he started talking again, he wouldn't look at me. "Bella, I've never wanted to believe in anything as much as I wanted to believe that you still cared about me. Knowing all that you know, all that I've done. I watched you suffer for months. I blamed that imbecile, that dog for letting you go. He didn't fight for you; he was an easy scapegoat. Never once could I look to myself. I couldn't fathom that you could love me, knowing what I was. Even before you knew, I thought you were happy with him. Every time I saw him, that night on your stoop after Newton's party and then in the hospital after that truck of yours nearly crushed you, his thoughts were always trained on how he'd do anything for you. And I thought that was enough. I thought that made him the better choice." Bitterness fueled his sneer. "The safer choice."

The sneer twisted into a grimace. Heavy with apology, Edward murmured, "I had no idea what he would become."

I fought against his spell and kicked my legs over to the other side of the bench, out from under the table, so I could stand. I spun around to get up, but Edward, ever the proficient predator, positioned himself in front of me, inches from my knees while kneeling on his own. If I wanted to leave, I'd have to brush against him. His explanations were unraveling the strength I'd spent months building up, but the consequences of his touch would prove far worse.

I looked up to the sky to avoid seeing him, grateful for the gusting wind that numbed the skin stretching from my forehead to my clavicle.

He spoke again, wistful and forlorn but with purpose. "I almost killed you the first day we met. Your scent called to me like none other. I wanted to drain the life out of you, just to satisfy my own thirst. After class ended, I tried to get my schedule changed so I could avoid you. When that didn't work, I bade my family goodbye and ran away to Alaska, refusing to allow an insignificant little girl to ruin all the years I'd spent trying to live like a man instead of a monster."

"But that's what you are. A monster." One hundred thirty-seven. One hundred four. Eighty-seven. Zero. The numbers he'd spoken to me four months ago echoed in my head, operating as a countdown to the destruction of my sanity. Out of self-preservation rather than the truth of what I knew of him, I whispered, "You don't love, you kill."

"That's what I was, not who I want to be."

Of its own accord, my neck jerked downward so that my head bowed to the line of sight stemming from his uplifted face. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion; I hadn't expected to stand up for himself.

Shadowed with shame, Edward was completely motionless at my feet. Our eyes locked as he continued, "I left Alaska and returned to Forks because I was determined to overcome the evil inside of me. I vowed that I wouldn't hurt you, that I would continue to live a life of redemption. That first day back, because I couldn't read your mind, I decided to speak to you so I could see you as a person rather than as prey."

He moved one hand to the edge of the bench, splaying his fingers inches from my thigh. I was too tired to fight him for more space; I could only draw my arms in to my chest and huddle over in search of warmth and reason. My back ached, but now the pain was barely an afterthought.

Edward went on, and I gave up resisting his story. "I expected you to be vapid and shallow like your peers, but you were insightful and blunt and…mesmerizing. I'd only meant to see you as a person to avoid ending your life, but from that day forward, you were much, much more."

I shook myself out of my trance and glared past the longing expression lingering in his eyes. "I entertained you. The little human who never said or did anything she was supposed to. I get it. Stop toying with me."

His face darkened, and his voice followed suit. "Listen to me. Do you remember what I said to you the first time we spoke?"

"No," I lied.

His eyelids narrowed with skepticism, but he recounted the memory for me regardless. "You told me that you felt as if you recovering from your coma was a sign that you were meant to experience something in your life. Something extraordinary." He smiled sadly to himself, just as he had done that fateful day in August. "And I knew exactly what you meant. I too lived well beyond the point of my logical demise and wished I could fill borrowed time with something special."

I considered ripping off the jacket he'd lent me and shoving it in his face to silence him, but practicality won out as I realized I was still shivering. Burrowing my hands into the pockets, I looked out beyond him, over his shoulder, trying to avoid his scent and the gravity of his gaze.

He leaned to the right, blocking off my view of the typical Forks nothingness so I looked straight into the hideous splendor of his eyes. "You were the most intriguing person I'd ever encountered. I couldn't get enough of you."

My vision distorted, and I realized I was crying. "The most intriguing human you've ever met," I clarified. "I've heard this before, so you can spare me the—"

"No." His weight shifted against the hand resting beside me on the bench in a brazen attempt to close space between us.

Edward studied his flattened hand against the warping wood, appearing to concentrate very carefully on what lie to spin next. "I'm incredibly self-involved, Bella, and I eventually let myself believe there was no harm in pursuing a friendship with you. For the longest time, I tried to stay away because the last thing you needed was a vampire in your life," he smiled up at me, weak with guilt, "but then I saw how miserable you were sitting at that lunch table, day after day, listening to the endless barrage of trivial conversation and catty remarks. You were so much better than them—and me. Nonetheless, I wanted more of you, so I forced myself a little further into your life. The fact you're such a magnet for trouble only gave me more excuses."

His hand twitched next to me, but I leaned in the opposite direction to avoid his migrating fingertips. None of this information was new; I braced myself for the inevitable "but."

His lips curled up into another vacant smile as he continued, "I told myself you needed me to save you, but the truth was I needed you to save me."

I sniffled. The sound collapsed his face. "Even now, Bella, I should protect you from a distance, but I made the mistake of letting myself believe you. You know what I am and still…you want me."

"I—"

He put one long, white finger to my lips. I jerked my head to the side, but he followed, the pads of his fingertips wiping away the dampness on my cheek.

"Don't," I growled.

His hand went back to the bench, but he didn't appear disheartened by my rejection. "Listen. Please, Bella."

"I don't owe you any favors. You claimed you had something to say, but clearly you're just blowing smoke up my ass." He opened his mouth, but somehow I was faster. "Move. I'm leaving."

The hand that wasn't resting on the bench lifted and went to my other side, mirroring its mate. Though we weren't touching, he had me caged, pinned to my seat.

He hovered over my lap so that his head was at level with mine and his waist was grazing my knees. "You're completely justified in how you feel about me right now, but—"

"I don't need your permission to be pissed at you."

He still refused to budge. Because of my back and its nearness to the edge of the table top, I couldn't lean any further away from him.

"Get away from me, Edward."

"I've already told you I can't do that, Bella."

"You asked me to tell you to stay away, remember? So I'm telling you. You aren't welcome in my life, in any capacity. I don't want your protection. I don't want your friendship—"

"This was never about friendship for me." Against me, he used my own stale words from a lifetime ago.

"Yeah, I get that. I shouldn't have been fooled that you cared about me at all. You watched me go through hell for three months and didn't even bat an eyelash. I was pathetic and I overreacted, but you never—"

"I thought you wanted me to stay away."

He was right, but that didn't mean that I had been when I'd told him I could handle seeing him everyday. Blame was heaven next to the truth. I swallowed hard and pushed the responsibility onto Edward. "You were a shitty friend."

He nodded, his eyes overly attentive to my face. "I was. We both were. Because, as I said, we were never friends."

I narrowed my eyes at him. A few tears squeezed out, rendering me, as always, meek and mortal in front of Edward Cullen.

Thankfully, he didn't bother patronizing me with his pity. Instead, he droned on, likely enjoying the musical tenor of his own voice. "Before I met you, I accepted my fate. I hated what I was, but I never dreamt of going back to a human life."

Edward picked up a sopping leaf stuck to my jeans and flicked it onto the ground. He stared at the mark the water had left on my thigh before placing his palm inches away, back to its resting place on the bench. His head bent down, and I dared to look at the top of his head, where stands of cinnamon hair whipped toward me in the breeze.

He stared down at my knees, unaware I was watching him. "When you flashed those doe eyes of yours at me on Newton's dock…all of sudden I felt human. You made me forget what atrocities I was capable of and just made me feel. I nearly hated you for that, as I could never be what you needed and could never take what I wanted from you."

"Stop it," I gasped. "Edward, if you have any decency, any actual humanity in you, you'll stop this and let me go." It was a low blow, but I felt trapped, baffled by him and was sick of the world telling me what to believe and who to trust.

He looked down at my lap, seemingly ashamed. "Bella, you made me wish for humanity. At night, I played this game…I'd sit alone and imagine my life as a human boy who had the right to pursue you. I fantasized of how I'd tell you Jacob Black wasn't good enough for you because he didn't see that Forks was suffocating you. I thought of Mike Newton and the expression on his face if I could grab your hand in the hallway and drive you home after school, away from him and his sordid delusions. But mostly I dreamt of telling you how I felt, and not having to apologize for it. "

I was welded to the bench, craning my neck at him. I could only stare, unable to process the weight of what he was trying to tell me. The shock bled my brain dry of logic and function, leaving me catatonic except for my eyes, which blinked mechanically every ten seconds.

Edward looked a bit petrified, but he went on, "I always broke out of my own delusions before morning, before it was too late. Black never acknowledged your potential and inadvertently threatened to hold you back, but he was still better for you than I was. Even Newton was an improvement over a 104-year-old vampire obsessed with the scent of your blood."

Although he was tearing himself down, Edward didn't alter the dominant position in which he knelt over me. I drew his jacket tight around my body, as if it could operate as a shield against the onslaught of his nearness.

"I never thought you could love me. I was certain you loved…him. He was human. The two of you made sense, at least on a biological level. When you found out about me, I thought you were going to tell me you never wanted to see me again. But then you turned everything on its head. I was sure it was a crush…you were young, and—" My half-scoff, half-sob interrupted him, but he recovered quickly. "—I assumed you'd move on. When you started wasting away in front of me, I blamed him and the fact you were trapped in this godforsaken town without any one worthy to love you or even converse with you."

My eyes focused on a slushy, muddy puddle next to my foot. I splashed the toe of my sneaker into the muck and tried to shut out the sound of his voice.

"I never stepped in because I knew you were strong, that you just needed time. I still stand by that; if I just go away now, I'm sure you'd bounce back eventually."

I found my strength then and snapped my eyes back to his sorrowful face. Flatly, I asked, "Then why don't you?"

"Black won't give up on you."

"I'm perfectly capable of handling him."

Edward eyed me reproachfully. "Really? You can handle enraged, reckless werewolves?" He lifted one hand from the bench and positioned it in the narrow space between my back and the table's edge. "Because the evidence suggests otherwise."

Glancing over my shoulder, I eyed his unwelcome, hovering hand. "Don't touch me."

His arm dropped back to my side. "I'd never hurt you."

One of my newly trademarked maniacal laughs erupted from my throat.

"I had a reason for what I did, Bella. You don't belong in my world."

"Yes, I deserve a normal, happy life," I recited dryly. "Except to me, that concept is an oxymoron."

He took in the bitterness and looked, unblinking, at the expression on my face. I had no idea how I must have looked to him, because then he did the last thing I expected: he smiled. "You still love me."

"I don't know you," I barked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then resumed his invasive leaning position. "Yes you do."

"The person I thought I knew would never lie to me."

"I did it to protect you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He cocked his eyebrows at me. "If you stop being so stubborn, I think you can figure it out."

"You—you're lying right now." I held onto the last shred of the idea that this was just a game to him, a way of using me. That version of reality was so much easier than the one where everything I'd been through in the past four months was completely unnecessary.

"I'll never lie to you again."

Through gritted teeth, I responded, "That's not much of challenge, considering I'm never speaking to you again."

He saw…something in my face then, or at least he must have because his expression grew soft and still as he inched closer. "Is that really what you want?"

"No question."

He pursed his lips, a challenge in his eyes. "Convince me."

Even his humbleness was cocky; simultaneously, he begged and patronized me within an inch of reason. He never wanted me, and I let that knowledge destroy me for months when I should have left it behind in minutes. He made me weak and stupid and hateful. I'd let it happen, but he stood before me now as if it were nothing but a simple misunderstanding.

I didn't feel my hand rise, but suddenly there it was, suspended in the air, my palm contracted and tingling with rage. I thrust my fist toward his cheek, but he caught it, unblinking, without breaking eye contact. A smack broke through the quiet as our hands collided. Lowering my arm along with his, Edward had the nerve to tangle his fingers with mine.

His touch was smooth yet desperate. I jerked free of his grasp, and he let me go without any resistance. However, I still lost the battle because he eased in over my lap, stealing another inch I couldn't afford.

"You're not doing a very good job. If you want me to leave you alone, I will, but you have to show me it's what you want."

"I fucking hate you." I swallowed as I swore.

He saw me do it and knew part of me was lying.

"I'm sorry," his lips whispered, inches from the tip of my nose.

"I don't forgive you."

"I know." He closed his eyes. "I don't deserve it."

Through gritted teeth and reflexive tears, I asked, "Then why are you doing this?"

Eyes still shut, he eliminated the final inches between us as his chin touched my nose.

His mournful voice rang in my ears. "I've never been fickle, Bella. In one hundred four years, I've loved one person."

Without permission, his hands molded to my face, the joints of his fingers curving over my cheekbones, his fingers ghosting over my temples.

"It's always your choice…"

I couldn't see his eyes then, but I felt his lips press firmly against my forehead as soon as his words stole into me. They parted slightly, kissing me just once. My eyes closed, and with everything I had, I kept myself still.

Not pulling away, he breathed into my skin as his mouth begged against me, "But if you want me—and even if you don't—I belong to you."

I pursed my lips, aghast that his remained just inches above. "You're a quite possibly the cruelest—"

"I am. But I did it for you."

"I'll never trust you."

His fingertips traced my profile once and then retracted to his sides. He leaned away slowly and stood. Taking two steps backward in the mud, Edward nodded once without looking at me. "All this time, I've waited for you. I can wait a bit longer."

I shook my head, not trusting my voice, and rose to my feet. I wasn't lying; I couldn't trust him…mostly because I was pretty sure I believed him. He might love me, but he also left me. And the leaving was all I could remember.

I wiped my face on the cool leather of his jacket, ripped it from my body, and tossed it onto the ground.

I looked at him. He looked back.

I turned my back to him and marched off toward school. For once, he didn't follow.

At that moment, I knew nothing except that it would be the last time Edward Cullen ever saw me cry.

Chapter End Notes: And thus concludes the angriest, angstiest chapter in all of IVO.