I'm not Stephenie Meyer.
It has been one year today since my best friend killed herself. My life has only gotten worse since then. I've tried a few drugs, nothing serious. And as soon as it was in my system, I decided that I will never do them again. I never would have tried drugs a year ago. But I do almost anything to block out the pain. Everyone expects me to be over it by now. But have they ever had to look at their best friend's mother's face when she walks outside and sees her barely recognizable daughter bleeding on the ground? Tanya was selfish for choosing her mother's work as the venue for her suicide. Guilt burns my insides as I think ill of my best friend.
Cutting myself works occasionally, you know, replacing the emotional pain with physical pain, but when you can't inflict enough physical pain to match the emotional pain, all you feel is both. I've only tried it a handful of times on a particularly bad day. Unfortunately for me, I've never been one for blood, so the relief usually comes by way of seeing or smelling it, then passing out.
I walk into my bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I look almost the same as I did when it happened, just subtle differences. I am a little thinner, and paler, if possible. I have dark circles under my eyes that weren't there before. It's obvious that I don't sleep much. I don't take care of my hair or nails the way I used to, trips to the salon were a favorite pass time of Tanya and me. Without her egging me on to be feminine, I'm ugly, and I don't care.
I'm heading to La Push to see Sam, my boyfriend. He's alright. I've been with him about a month. I don't care about him, or love him. I just need a distraction. He's always willing to provide me with with free beer, and a cheap compliment. I take what I can get, my self esteem can really only go up. He's probably just going to be drunk when I get there, as if I care. I will probably just watch TV, and maybe cook for him. He lives by himself, he's twenty-six. My father wasn't pleased, but he was happy to see me doing something other than "mope". So he doesn't complain too much. Not that he could, I'm an adult, old enough to drink, smoke, and fight in a war if I wanted to.
I climbed into my rusted red truck and put the keys in the ignition. It's a miracle it still runs after 5 years of abuse by myself, and probably 15 years of abuse by others. I look back up to the mirror in front of me. I'm still ugly, just as I was ten minutes ago. I back out of my driveway, and head toward the freeway. The road in front of me is all too familiar. I'm so sick of seeing the same thing every single day. As much as I love my Dad, I'm anxious to get out of Forks. I was thriving at college in Seattle when Tanya flung herself from that building. School became too rough after that, and I decided to take some time off with the blessing of my father and my counselors at school. I'm glad she did it over Summer, or else I probably would have ruined an entire semester of work I selfishly thought.
I'm silently rebuking myself for my selfishness as I see the familiar red house. I sigh as I walk up to the door, and knock three times. Sam answers staggering drunk. His deep brown eyes are blood shot. He towers over me almost a foot; his russet skin is dirty with oil from working on cars with my childhood friend, Jake.
"Hey baby!" He exclaims as he pulls me into a hug, I can smell the alcohol on him.
"Hi." I say simply, and he pulls me inside.
"Are you excited to see me?" He asks suggestively and I snort. The one thing I haven't tried as a distraction is sex, much to Sam's aversion. James made Tanya sleep with him, and then he left her so miserable she killed herself. I shiver a little bit as I think about it.
Sam closes the distance between us and wraps me back in his arms. "You're so beautiful, Bella." He says with a smile as he kisses me forcing his tongue into my mouth. I decide to allow it for a moment, he's just drunk. His kisses are desperate in the least attractive way, and it's so high school. I eventually shrug out of his grip and push him away. "Would you like me to make something for dinner?" I ask, hoping I have successfully derailed his train of thought.
"God damn it, Bella! Why do you always do that?" He says angrily, and I just shrug. He has this reaction every single time I reject him. "I'm just not ready yet." I tell him simply. I use the same line every time, and it always works. He walks back toward me and pushes me back down on the couch. This has never happened before. I begin to panic, I can feel my pulse racing. My palms are sweating the same way they always do when something bad is about to happen.
"Not this time, Bella. I've waited long enough." He says between ragged breaths as he begins kissing me again.
"Please don't do this, Sam." I say as a tear begins to fall down my cheek. I haven't cried in a long time, it's almost a relief. Sam's hand is traveling up and down my body grabbing on to every inch of me. My thighs, my hips, my waist, my breasts.
"It will feel good, baby. I promise." He says trying to assure me. I don't know what he's thinking. I try to push him off one more time, as he ignores me. I start screaming but he silences me by forcing his mouth on mine again. I beg silently that maybe Jake had heard me for the few seconds I managed to muster out my cries for help, but after a few moments I realize luck has never been on my side. He takes of my sweater, then my shirt, and my jeans. I struggle the whole way through, but he's too big, too strong. He pulls away and admires my exposed body. I get a few moments to focus on the stinging sensation manifesting itself in my arms where he was gripping me, I feel uglier now than I did standing in front of my bathroom mirror. This is going to be my first time. I feel so worthless.
He strips himself completely in a matter of seconds before climbing back on top of me. "Do you like what you see?" He asks in my ear trying to be seductive.
"Sam, please. I don't want to do this." I plead one last time.
My mind goes blank. I decide to just let it happen no, I'm not stronger or faster than him. I know he's undressing me completely now, but I can't feel it. I feel as if I'm watching from the outside. I can deal with that, it's the best I will get out of this. I hope that my numbness gets me through the experience. As he enters me forcefully I come back to reality, and now I can feel everything.
"Stop!" I shriek out as he breaks me. He forcefully puts his hand over my mouth and slams my head into the arm of the couch. I'm not sure whether I'm going to die or just pass out as I become consumed with a panic that is unparalleled by any other I've experienced. He's moving in and out of me as I try to focus on anything else. My tears are soaking my face, and my body is begging for the vicious attack to let up. He finishes quickly, and I'm grateful for at least that much.
He gets off of me, and pulls on his boxers. I'm still shaking uncontrollably, not sure what to do at this point. I make a feeble attempt to wipe the tears from my face as I try to cover myself the best I can, not yet ready to get up.
"Are you okay?" He asks as if he doesn't realize that he just raped me. I don't want to think the word.
There's actual pity in his eyes before he lies down on the couch and falls asleep, or just passes out depending on how you want to look at it. I stand up; my body is sore all over. I manage to locate all of my clothing strewn about the room. I don't bother to wash up. It's worthless. I'm worthless. I slowly pull on my clothes and get back into the truck.
Where do I go now? Maybe I should go to the police. I can't, though. I never want Charlie to know about this. He would shoot Sam, and get himself arrested. I'm not worth that much. I can feel the tears dripping down my face, and I don't remember them falling again. They aren't filled with anything but salt, no emotion, just salt.
I look around me, and I spot a cliff. I hadn't been on that cliff in years. I was grounded for six months when I was fourteen for getting Jake to take me cliff diving.
I look forward only to see the painted lines on the road moving in front of me faster and faster. I don't remember starting my car, but I'm driving up to the top of the cliff somehow.
The clouds up ahead are a stormy gray, and the waves below are thrashing. This is perfect. I remember the words my father had spoken to me when I got caught at the Black's house drying off after my recreation.
"What were you thinking, Bella?!" He had said. "With as much as it storms here, those waves could have killed you!" He yelled out at me.
They could kill me. How convenient.
I tip toe out of my truck, partly because anything else would have put me in pain. Mostly because I think that somehow somewhere Charlie can hear me up here, and I will get in huge trouble.
I walk slowly over to the edge and peep over. The waves are deadly, how ideal.
I shut my eyes and Tanya's voice floods my ears.
"Don't do this. I asked you not to blame yourself." Her compassionate voice was ringing more true than any of the dreams or illusions I've had of her in the last year.
"I don't blame anyone anymore. I understand how you felt. I know why you jumped, and I'm okay with that. If I had known this was how miserable you were, then I would have pushed you." I'm speaking out loud to no one, and lying to my best friend. I would have never pushed her, and I wouldn't be miserable if she weren't gone.
"Please Bella, don't. Think of Charlie." The voice rationalizes with me. Charlie is going to be better off without me. I decide not to say this out loud. I don't want to upset my illusion of Tanya; I don't want to hear her get mad. I remember her asking if I thought she would go to heaven or hell. Well wherever suicide sends you, I'm going there, too. Who cares, it's probably just straight into the ground anyway. And everything will be fixed.
I go back to my truck as I manage to find an envelope and a pencil on the floorboards of my car while I scrawl out a note to my beloved father.
Dad,
I'm sorry things had to end this way. I couldn't live with myself anymore. You were the best father any girl could ask for, and I hope you find solace in knowing that I am in peace. I love you.
Bells.
I take another step toward the edge. I find it ironic that I'm going to meet almost the same fate as my best friend had. We really are two of a kind, both of us so woebegone that we had to jump off of something high.
I always wondered if she'd suffered. If she really died before her brain could send the message to her nerves that she was broken and bleeding. I decide now, mostly for my sake that she didn't. She never took one last exasperated breath, her eyes never dramatically rolled into the back of her head. She just died, and that was it.
I know it's selfish, but I hope that it's the same for me. I hope that the water won't act as too much of a cushion. I hope I just hit a rock.
I look down to the water directly below and draw in a deep breath.
"Bella-" Tanya begins to plead.
"Shhh. Everything is going to be alright, now." I hush her.
I was planning to get a running start, but I'm so comfortable where I stand that I think I'll just to take a pencil dive straight into the water, and probably straight to hell. I stick out one foot and then the other, and just like that—
I fall.
The wind is whipping around my face. My hair is tickling my cheeks that are also being stung by the cold.
I feel like I've been falling forever, and now I'm surrounded by frozen needles, poking and stabbing at every inch of my body. In an odd way, the coolness soothes the pain from Sam's attack, while my unaffected areas feel awful.
This must be the water.
It's incredibly painful, physically I mean. But the pain is nothing compared to how I've felt for the last twelve months.
I open my mouth to laugh out loud, and mock the pain. But it just fills with seawater, stinging my mouth and nose. I can feel myself sinking deeper and deeper now. This is a great way to die, oddly peaceful.
The world keeps going from black, to white, black, to white. I must be slipping in and out of consciousness. Good, it's almost over. I can feel something grabbing my waist, I must have finally hit a rock. I still keep fading out black, to white, black to white. And finally my mind decides to settle on black.
It has been one year today since my best friend killed herself. My life has only gotten worse since then.
A/N: I really hope you all liked the first chapter. I was and still am incredibly nervous about this story. It's much darker than my other two stories. Let me know what you think! Edward will definitely be making an appearance in this story, just bear with me. Peace and love
Aces