Previously:
"Liar," Bella pronounced quietly, twisting my dead heart and stomping on it as she ripped my guts out for all that I was worth.
Memoirs of Her Scent
Ch17: Porcelain Hearts
She breathes in, I breathe out.
Broken heart
She breathes out, I breathe in.
One more time
She will bleed from insecurity
She wakes up and I lay down
She's been carrying this old luggage
Broken pieces in her hands
And it's been really bugging me
She can hardly speak
And so she screams through Dreams
Something's got to change
There's a chemical in her brain, pouring sunshine and rage
I never know what to expect
Someone said, "A broken heart will sting at first,
Then make you stronger."
So we wonder why this pain remains
I need to feel forgiveness
You need to feel resentment
Running down the drain
And mend these Porcelain hearts
When will she heal from this?
Someone mend this broken heart of mine
Pick yourself up, why even cry
She's every little thing I'm not
Were hearts made whole just to break?
She's got everything I want
This bruising chain she's carrying
Is the pain I'm buried in today
So when I went to see her she couldn't believe it
Could I really be?
I knew that I had left her crying there
Now she's holding all my words close
Till I feel her pain too
Maybe all this is my self-protection
All the hurts I thought were hidden
Are the one now hurting her
While I thought somehow this numbness could heal her
But this numbness is never ending
And it's only killing her
Do you see that I am hurt?
So who will make the pattern end?
It runs through her veins
And what I taste is bittersweet
Her words stung, akin to the bite of a newborn slivering through skin and sinew with the ever lingering and percolating burn of the venom in its stir. That is to say, it was worse than a slap to the face. That I would have felt and it would have left some lingering ache, but her words… these cutting words, I could not handle.
They remained in constant replay, ridiculing me in their echoing nature. The more disturbing thing about her words was that they were but a whisper that had shattered the farce of peace I had so intricately woven around us with the fierceness of a screech. And as if that were not enough, Bella felt the need to repeat her callous words, to be heard.
"Liar," she cried. The emotion in her voice went to my throat, closing it off, choking me. "You are a liar, Jasper," she choked out, her tears falling then, face contorted in so much pain. Pain that I had caused, pain that I could not prod away.
My hand moved to where my heart should have been beating away its breaking thump. There was no beat. Disgust coated my tongue as my fingers caged themselves and dug at the area where my deaden heart was still, trying to stimulate its beat. It did not work, but my heart remained in a state of heartbreak.
"Please," I found myself begging. Begging for what? What could Bella offer me, give me? Nothing I could possibly deserved, I was certain.
"Liar!" she whispered more cogently, harshly, her hands rising in a fistful of rage and resentfulness to collide against my chest. If I were certain that her actions would not cause her any physical pain, I would have allowed her fists to hammer my chest as much as she wanted, but that was not the case.
"Bella, please." The coating of her name caressing my tongue felt inadequate to my ears, forbidden.
Daring to touch her, I encased her wrists loosely, being careful of the bruised one, with my fingers as Bella's entire frame shook with the extrusion of her pain, which I had added to. With every shiver that raked her body, I saw and felt the passage of our pain meshing and clashing together until all I was left feeling was my own self-hate.
"Why?" she asked, defeated. Her forehead lowered to my chest, causing the flow of her tears to damp the coarse material of my shirt. I closed my eyes and swallowed the knot obstructing my airway. My eyes moistened under closed lids. That one question seemed to drive the stake home and through. "Why?" My eyes flew open at the sound of her inquisition, searching for her. She lifted her face, searching mine and settling on finding the answer to her question in the depths of my eyes.
Terrified of what she might find there, I looked away, too ashamed to answer. What satisfactory answer could I give her? I was a coward and it was enough if she knew it without my having to verbalize it. Curiously enough, I had never thought myself a coward. I wondered what had changed.
She sighed, wilting until her weight rested fully against me. All curves and mounds were I was straight lines and planes. Her warmth. I swallowed, my Adam's apple bobbed with the effort. Her warmth, like a rude awakening invaded the usual coolness that I was so accustomed to, the coolness that made me so numb that I rarely felt beyond, and made me feel much more than the accustomed numbness.
I wanted to flee, but I could not willingly eradicate myself from the confinements of her cherished warmth. It was bliss –pleasure and pain, intricately laced into one masochist package.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to her ear, meaning it and feeling like words were not enough. Once again, they were insufficient. At the same time, they were the right words. There were no other that could have been appropriate. I did not want to make excuses, so I did not. My actions in the future would have to make up for the lack of sufficient words.
Bella shook her head and my stomach dropped. "How can I be certain?" she questioned, searching my face again. I could feel the tug of war happening behind the depths of her chocolate pools.
"You can't," I answered numbly. More tears succeeded my assertion and she anchored herself to me. I cast them aside with a gentle steal of my thumbs.
"I know, but I–"
"I'm here now and I'll be here tomorrow, when you wake," I interrupted. "That I can promise you." She stared at me unblinking, assessing me. Searching to find the truth behind my words. "Also, I can promise not to make promises beyond tomorrow."
"I've missed you so much," she admitted, a watery smile upturning her lips. "I needed you." The accusation in her words was palpable and gentle, almost loving. My gut twisted and my shame escalated. I had missed her in a most intoxicating way too.
"I'm here now," I assured her. "Please, Bella, believe me."
"I do," she whispered, it was almost a gasp, as if she were surprised by her words. She was. I could not help it; I buried my face in the scent of her hair and held her close with upmost care. She held me back and I felt myself thaw into her touch, where our bodies met. She was so warm.
"Thank you." More inadequacy. I felt her smile against my neck, her hot lips scorching against my cool skin. I sighed, content.
Bella shook her head, "You're back." Disbelieve coated her words. There was a worrying amount of disappointment as well. I tried to ignore it, trying not to tarnish the moment. It did not matter that I had come back. I was not her Edward, the one she craved to see.
"I am." I was not Edward. I grimaced. Perhaps, I could not be the one she longed for, but I would be here when the one she longed for could not, would not. "For as long as you'll have me."
A/N: My "Thank you" goes to the following for their amazing reviews: WaterChild1990, deltagrl, VampireInDisguise, JazzysMistress, VampireCat3, and SAVAGEGRACEx
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