The room felt empty around her, even though there were clothes scattered all over the floor. She had ripped her wardrobe apart in mere seconds. The mirror on the wall was shattered, casting her reflection in complete distortion, but she still looked beautiful.
Bella laid face-down on the bed. Her head firmly underneath a pillow, as if to smother her gentle sobs – but she knew all her family could hear her. His CD collection still covered an entire wall, hundreds of cases lined up so neatly that if one had been moved it would be instantly noticeable. From Claude Debussy to the Beatles, Oscar Peterson to Frank Sinatra – the record of the decades past, through all the time he had lived and loved.
The sobs were slowing now. Even with infinite energy and time, they would have to cease, she was just waiting for that moment to face her family. The clarity inside her brain was holding together enough for her to think about Edward and Alice. The love rats. If she hadn't been turned… Death would have been her path of choice – a life with Edward was a life not worth living.
She was startled by a gentle hand placed on her shoulder.
"Bella?" A rough voice enquired.
"Yes, Jasper." The tremors shook her soft voice as she answered.
"Can I lie down with you?" His voice once again was nervous and rough, almost as if he was reluctant to say the words.
"Haven't you got your own bed?" Bella asked.
When he didn't reply straight away, she moved her head from under the pillow to look at his face. Jasper's face was screwed up in pain, the lines of strain appearing in his immortal façade.
"Oh…" Bella murmured.
"Yeah. I kinda don't want to even be in our room…" Jasper tried to smile. "That's where they broke our hearts."
"Oh, Jasper. I am so sorry." Bella said, realising Jasper was still perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. "Of course, lay down."
He flashed a quick but perfect smile, before rapidly removing his boots and manoeuvring onto the bed. He wanted to be close to Bella, but not so close it was intrusive to her. She seemed to sense his predicament, and indicated that he should put his head in her lap. Her fingers wove through his golden locks as she sobbed softly, she didn't realise that he was sobbing too – he had already learned to hide it.