(Disclaimer- i wouldn't be typing this. nope.)
okay so. i must admit that I LOVE this chapter. i was so emotional while typing it.
blah. but. you, the reader, however, may not enjoy it so very much. :) PLEASE leave reviews!
i tried to get this chapter up yesterday and the day before but it just wouldn't let me. OH. and chapter
thirteen is finished already. so is fourteen. so they'll be up really soon. the more reviews I get, the faster
i'll update. :) thanks. readddd!
Empty
I lifted the map I'd bought with the secret stash of green in my bra. It was a good map, one that detailed every town on their own separate pages. Just what I needed. I was glad I'd bought it, though not happy with the danger I'd put myself in while doing so. Staring intently at the squiggled lines adorning the picture, I remembered the cashier's reaction to the mess that was my appearance as I trudged into the store demanding for a map of Washington that dark night. It'd been late. I hadn't even been aware of the numbers flashing red on his digital clock as he rung up the two simple items I'd bought. He'd watched me with cautious eyes as I scarfed down the remainders of the newly purchased Poptart right there in the middle of the store. He'd leaned toward the phone on the counter as I flashed a phony smile in his direction and dashed out the door. He'd looked at me like he expected me to rob him, attack him. He'd looked at me like he was afraid, like I was a psycho. Like it was painstakingly obvious I'd broken out of a loony bin.
I shuddered now at the mere memory, the same spasm of panic breaking down over my back as it had when I'd stared into his suspicious emerald eyes. I was so afraid to fail. So afraid. I couldn't get caught now. I'd come too far for that, for everything to just fall apart. I'd put so much effort into getting this far. I didn't plan on going back, no matter what it took. I would gladly hold a gun to anyone who got in my way. I doubted I'd ever be able to actually use the gun, but I could pretend that I was capable of doing so. Though, of course, I knew I couldn't let it come to that. I was just going to have to be more careful. Or, according to the map I was investigating, I actually wouldn't have to be that careful now after all. Because — after the countless nights I'd crept stealthily through the shadows of dark, constantly in hiding from the daylight, from any possible witnesses — I'd made it to Part One of my destination.
I was in Forks.
My eyes strained to focus on the shadowed objects in front of them as I waited for dawn to break. I could subtly make out the shapes of trees and a highway from where I waited, crouched behind a tree. I knew, by looking at the map, that I was on the major highway, the one that led to everything in this little town: the stores, the houses, the school. If I just followed this road, it would take me to the part of town where myhouse was. Bella's house — the small white one with the thousands of shared memories, stolen memories. I couldn't help the feeling of unease that came into my stomach, the sheer stinging of anxiety, terror. I couldn't help the thoughts that trickled into my head, staining my mind with hopelessness, with failure.
What if there was nothing here?
What if I never found the little house of ivory, the one with the light blue baby's room, the room I'd spent so many nights in, held safely in the arms of my stony, pallid angel? What if it didn't exist? What if I went there, searching, and I came up empty, just like I'd feared? And then La Push. What if there was nothing there? No Jacob. No Edward. No Bella. Just crazy, insane, mad, Anna. Anna Hensley. Mental Hospital-escapee, pathetic lunatic. I didn't think I could bear the disappointment of finding this all to be just an illusion of my starving mind and heart. I really didn't think I could.
I shook my head, bracing myself on the trunk of the tree as the sun slowly crept up over the horizon. I didn't want to think so negatively. I didn't want to think I wouldn't find anything. I needed to believe that they would be there and that I would be exactly who I thought I was, who I knew I was. My lids pulled down over the mist formulating in my eyes, creating a barrier, restricting the pessimistic thoughts. Desperately, I tried to shield the pain in my chest with the harmful little splutter of hope and excitement I felt. Though these thoughts of happiness and achievement were safer for me to focus on now, I knew that they would ultimately hurt much more in the long run if I happened to find out that it was all a dream. But, again, I had to remind myself not to think about that possibility. I had to think that I would find them.
I would find them.
I rolled the book of maps neatly, quickly, and shoved it under my arm, pushing up from the dirt that still marked my legs. I was battered and sullied, a result of tripping around the woods for several nights, sleeping in abandoned shacks and roadsides during the daylight hours. The sight of me was enough to stop traffic, to open the mouths of onlookers into a wide "o" and have their fingers itching for 911 on their cell phones. That was why I needed to hurry now, before the small flow of workers paved the streets with their tire tracks. I needed to get to my house, Bella's house, before anyone was awake enough to realize how much of a wreck I was. My feet hit the concrete quietly; the only noise on the damp road was the shuffling of my clumsy hooves.
It shouldn't take long to reach the place where the house would be. Maybe fifteen minutes, a half hour. And then I'd be there, standing there in the pale morning light in front of one of the few things that could make me feel sane, hopeful, happy. My home. It was so close now. I pushed harder on the blacktop, feeling the strain of my muscles as I tore the bottoms of my feet for the thousandth time. I was drowsy with sleep-deprivation, aching with thirst, and weak with lack of protein. I was so frail, more so than normal, even, and so close to failure. But I wouldn't give up. I couldn't. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel hope, completely, intensely. Every inch of me throbbed with my desperate hope, and a slow, accomplished smile passed over my mouth. Maybe it would all work out in the end. Maybe I could be happy.
My feet continued to push me harder.
--
My heart sped up. I couldn't breathe. I felt nauseous.
The rain slanted down, splashing against my face, combining with the tears that were starting to form. My lips, my hands, my legs…everything trembled. I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. My chest ached, my jaw clenched so tightly I almost was worried that I'd crack my teeth. My eyes were frantic as I glanced back down at the map, making sure that this was the spot I was looking for. It was. This was most definitely where the house should have been. This was the road. This was the exact road.
But it was empty.
There was nothing here. No little white house, no small blue room. No memories, no happiness, no piece fit back into the puzzle, no quantity of sanity given back to me. I stood alone in the empty road, holding myself, trying to keep the broken, crumbling pieces together. I couldn't breathe, but somehow, odd gasps continued to stream from my lips like rivers of agony, like hurricanes of fury, lunacy. My fingers clung to the wet strings of hair lapping at my face with the relentless wind. My legs gave out and I fell to the darkened concrete, fell into the abyss that was my entire life, my entire, hopeless, pathetic, imaginary life. I prayed to God that I drowned here in the empty puddles of this small town. Prayed that someone would end me right here, right now.
There was nothing. Nothing.
Not one thing. Not one damn thing.
It'd been a dream. All of it, a dream. And I couldn't hold myself together anymore. I was alone. Completely alone. There'd never been a Jacob, never been an Edward. Never had Edward held me in his cold arms. I'd never gotten pregnant. I'd never even kissed a boy. I'd never held their hands, never been loved. I'd never been more than a hopeless dreamer. I was Annabelle Hensley, and that was it. I wasn't Bella Swan. I wasn't the love of anyone's life. I wasn't the one that anyone looked forward to seeing, that anyone wanted to protect. I had no one. Anyone that I did have, I pushed away with my intense, insane, dreams of finding nonexistent things. I was so terribly isolated. Secluded inside of my mind, forever tormented by my own vicious thoughts. I wished that I could lose myself inside of the deep sea of madness, that the little piece of me that was able still to somewhat tell the difference between reality and fantasy would just crumble into the depths of my imagination. It wouldn't matter if they locked me up if that happened. I'd be gone. I'd be completely emerged in my own head, in my dreams. I'd be happy, even if it was only a fake, fabricated happiness. I'd have something at least.
But I couldn't do that. I couldn't hide in my mind. It only let me in so much, only enough to let me taste the sweetness of the untouchable joy it offered, to torture me with it. My mind, my thoughts, my dreams, they teased me, hurt me, killed me.
How would I live like this? How could I do this? Jacob and Edward didn't exist. I was insane. There was no denying it now. I was almost gone, but never gone enough. There was no escape. None. There was nothing.
I was so alone. So alone.
The tears became too much, and I started to choke on the water pooling beneath my face as I fell into the earth. Aqua filled my lungs as I struggled to breathe in the moisture. I didn't want to feel the hurt anymore. I swallowed the rain, the salted tears, until my chest quaked with pressure. My thumb and pointer finger pinched at my nose, preventing air from escaping. I didn't want to breathe, though my lungs pleaded with me, pushing against my chest, squirming for the touch of air that would save me. But I didn't want to be saved. There was nothing here for me.
It was empty. I was empty.
Tears slipped down my cheeks as the morning flew into darkness around me.
And then the pain was gone.