(Disclaimer- i don't own twilight.)

so here you have it: the thirty-second chapter. the next one is almost finished and
should be up here fairly soon, but just in case, savor this one--well, if you really care that much.
please leave reviews and tell me what you think. i'd also like some opinions on how you think this
should go. you know, the classic fire vs. ice thing. pick a side, and defend it plentifully--nicely, too--and
you may just impact my decision, though i'm fairly sure that i know how this will be ending up.
anyway. thanks and have a nice read.

Forced Awakening

I remembered crossing my fingers, shivering in the cold air of the stuffy vehicle. It'd been just moments before I'd stepped out onto the road from Kyle's car—just moments before I'd left him to search my way through Forks. There'd been a scruffy pounding in my head, like somebody'd stuffed cotton in there and was repeatedly sticking their thumb in through the fibers of it, pushing it around inside my skull. I remembered thinking that if I couldn't find Jacob, at least I'd have Edward, though it probably wouldn't be the same. Nor would it be enough—not as good as having Jacob.

But now here I was standing in front of Edward, feeling that same cotton-brain sensation, wobbling and besotted. I'd promised myself before not to let myself wallow in my loss of Jacob, if in fact he had imprinted or not stayed long enough on Earth to wait for me. I'd made myself agree to be happy with Edward, and not to think of it as settling. I'd thought that doing those things, going through with all of my self-proclaimed promises, would be difficult. But it wasn't even half as difficult as what I was faced with now.

I presently didn't have to settle for Edward. I didn't have to mourn for Jacob. What I was given now was the option of choosing between both. In one hand, I held a devoted and beautiful Jacob, and in the other, a pleading, magnificent Edward—each of whom wanted me. Each of whom were constantly tugging on my heart strings, ripping at me as though I was some sort of worn-out rope in a game of tug-a-war. It was the sort of thing that gave new meaning to the phrase 'have my cake and eat it too.'

My cake, Jacob, was beautiful, everything I could have wanted. I loved him and I thanked God every morning for the fact that he was here, in the flesh, for me to touch and talk to, to love unconditionally. He was all that I was looking for when I spoke of finding sanity. He was every single string that connected me to the earth, every single note in the best of all my favorite songs. He was—in a way—my own personal imprint.

But now I was being pushed in the direction of something I'd not wanted to deal with. I knew that Edward would love me, but I'd not thought that he would force this upon me. I didn't think it was possible—in his nature—to come at me like this, pleading with me for the love that he and I both knew I held for him. I'd thought it'd be easier, that I'd be able to ignore the reaction of my heart when I thought of him. I'd thought that he would stay away and let me ride out my joy and my forged oblivion so I could stay happy. But he'd apparently changed.

And so I started to laugh. A lot.

Edward blinked at me, his eyebrows creasing over his puzzled eyes, and he reached out a hand to grab at my shoulder as I doubled over into myself and careened toward the ground. He didn't know what to make of my reaction. Neither did I. It was all just too much stress for me—too much pressure. I couldn't deal.

"Bella? Are you alright?" He shook me gently, afraid of my insane laughter. "Bella!" He said again, louder, pulling me to him as he fell to his knees beside me. As my laughter slowly melted into tears, he rocked me, a sad murmured song on his lips.

After a while of this, I pulled myself together, tying together the separate pieces of myself so that I could work properly again. I was a robot fitting together the corks and the screws, hooking back up the wires. I was a mess of shredded paper, taped back together to form a whole page.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered to him when he pulled away to look at me.

"I love you, Bella."

"Don't say that. That isn't what I asked." The irritation in my voice was tangible, and his eyes flickered to the ground, away from my face. I imagined an impossible blush filling out over his milky cheekbones.

"That is my answer—the only one that I have."

"Think of a new one. Love is an emotion, not an excuse. Why are you doing this to me?" I didn't know where the sudden heat came from, where the fiery spread of fury seeped out to coat my words. I had no idea what had happened to make me speak this way to Edward. I was too astonished after I'd uttered the thoughts to even breathe again. Everyone around me seemed to have changed, even myself.

"He hasn't told you anything, I presume?" Edward shot back with some ice of his own. His eyes were narrowed and filled with a combination of grief and rage as he stared at me. The gold was leaking from them slowly, a pinhole draining all the glorious color and leaving only the black. Each second they grew darker, each second he looked more like a vampire than a man. A shiver rolled down my spine. I was acutely aware of his hand still in mine.

"I don't want to have to repeat myself again, Edward." I snarled, ignoring him. "Answer my damn question. Why are you doing this?"

My back slammed abruptly into the ground behind me, sending my body into a tiny tremor of shock. Before my head could process how I'd gotten there, Edward was above me, his cold lips tangled with mine in a way that was so unlike him—so very unlike him—that I started crying again. I couldn't calculate my own reactions anymore. I couldn't figure out the actions of anyone around me. I was in a parallel universe where everyone had changed.

The ice of his breath was pouring into me, lifting my heart from its place in my chest so that it was tightly nudged into the corners of my throat. Warm tears flooded my cheeks and disappeared against his, and his eyes watched me as I cried beneath him. He knew that I wasn't crying out of fear or hatred or hurt. I was crying because he was forcing me to admit that I loved him. Because my lips were moving with his and I was enjoying the feel of it, craving more of it. I was crying because I loved Edward.

And I cried because I'd been stupid enough to think that I could ignore that.

He pulled away from me after a moment, but he held tight to my wrists, holding me there. I barely fought him. I was too deeply submerged in the sorrow of my realization to struggle. Edward was a good man, and he wouldn't hurt me. But somewhere in the time I'd been gone he'd taken back his sense of self-interest, and he was fighting for me, letting me hurt myself with the truth I'd tried to reject. And so I did; I turned the hatred inward and battered myself from the inside out with the repetition of each sneering self-accusation until I couldn't even cry anymore.

And then finally I was silent, lying beneath the man I could no longer deny that I loved, feeling as if I'd taken a torch to every inch of my insides and as if my breath would come out as ash.

"Bella." Edward whispered sadly.

I stared at him through eyes that were veiled with self-hate. His cold hand smoothed my hair, the action carefully stripped of the anger I could see in his stare. His jaw was set in stone, his eyes hard as rocks and black as night. He was dangerous and beautiful and mine if I wanted him. And I did.

We were both so mad that neither of us could get our eyes to cool down. I could almost see the steam rolling off of our stiffened forms. He had to pull away from me so that he wouldn't crush me and his hands were having a hard time being gentle. I dug my nails into the dirt, wondering where Jacob was, listening for howls and silent footsteps.

So much had changed. So much had changed.

"So now what?" I barked at Edward. He turned to glare at me with his night eyes. Hate rolled in my stomach like a child in leaves. I wanted to chuck something at him, have it reverberate off of his hard skin and come back. Hit me instead.

There wasn't anything hard enough to damage either of us nearby, so I settled for a handful of leaves, launching them at him with a pathetic growl.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, breathing hard to control his own anger. "I guess you have some decisions to make."

"Why couldn't you just let me be?"

"You were mine. You loved me. You still do, don't you? If you don't, say so and I swear I'll be gone."

"Don't do this."

"I'm sorry. I am; I'm sorry. Do you think that this was done without careful and painful amounts of consideration? Why do you think I'm so angry? I could kill myself for hurting you this way. I want to."

"Prove it." I muttered beneath my breath. Edward's eyes flashed with pain as he turned his head away. I sighed, knowing that that was a low blow. "Sorry."

"Did you once question how you came to be his? You don't remember it, I'm certain, and he hasn't told you. Don't you want to know how you got to this point?"

"I can't ask him that. I don't know why. It's like a frog caught in my throat. I can't push the words from my mouth."

"You were supposed to marry me." He said quietly. I watched as his eyes slipped down to my hand, and I reached out to take his. He hesitated at first, but soon released his palm for my fingers to embrace. "Do you remember that?"

"It's the last thing I remember. Well, sort of. We were in the car, going over magazines with Alice, and then in the house…Sam Uley called, you told me about the invitation you gave to Jacob and how he ran away, and then I went to find him. Then, in my memory, I was shot."

"Hm." Edward's face was thoughtful as he chewed over my could-be-false memories. I waited impatiently for him to tell me what was wrong and what was right in my equation. My fingers clutched his hand. "Your memory is wrong, I'm afraid."

I nodded. I knew this already. Now I wanted truth. "What happened?"

His eyes met mine for a long moment, and I couldn't understand the emotion in them. He seemed cautious, hurt, worried. The pain was understandable, but the rest messed with my head. What was he so apprehensive about?

"Bella…"

"What?" It was a whisper.

"Charlie was sick." He paused, looking me over for some sign of comprehension, but there was no remembrance to light up my eyes. My face was blank with confusion. I blinked, shaking my head in a carefully slow motion.

"What do you mean, he was sick?" The truth was crawling down over me. I was holding my breath.

"…He was dying, Bella." Edward murmured softly, eyes holding mine, waiting for my reaction.

"No." The gasp was so filled with agony that even I was surprised. Edward's face contorted with my pain, fingers tightening over mine.

And then, swiftly, like an infuriated spirit come back to me, I was possessed by my horrible past:

One. I was sitting in the kitchen, head in my hands. The phone continued to ring; four times, ten times, twelve. I didn't move to get it. I couldn't even look up. My body was motionless and my eyes were damp. The house was silent as I sat in the midst of its ailing clouds. My heart was in shreds for the father I was losing.

Cancer. How could Charlie possibly have cancer?

A small, helpless sob threatened my horrid silence, and then I was bawling again.

Two. I was in the hospital with Edward, standing beside a room which contained my broken dad. I could feel my hands shake even as they were held in Edward's immobilizing grasp. The ring on my left hand burned its way through my skin, reminding me of my promise. I was to be married to Edward just five days from then, and after, I would be gone from Charlie forever.

He was dying. My father was lying on his deathbed, days uncertainly numbered, and I was making plans never to see him again. I wanted to curl into a ball and die myself. How could I possibly think of leaving him like this? Who would care for him? What kind of daughter was I? I was the very essence of malice, the very core of disgust.

Charlie was dying. Charlie was dying.

Three. I was sitting in my room, staring unseeingly at the black window. Night was all around me, death staining my walls. I could feel it creeping in through the light blue paint, circling us like vultures. It was here for my father, sitting and waiting maliciously for the attack. And my wedding was tomorrow.

I'd called it off.

My door was thrown open then, and Jacob was in its frame. I barely saw him. He was just another splotch of paint on a dreary canvas, another piece of life that my father would be torn away from. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't move past my guilt.

How could I leave him?

Horrible. I was horrible, despicable. How was this going to work?

Jacob said nothing as he took me in his arms. I hardly even thought of the fact that he should still have been off on his therapeutic voyage. We sat rocking for a while, the two of us staring into nothing and seeing every shade of loss. Without words, without a need for them, we shared every single grief, and mine became his. He held me as I silently wept.

And then he showed me a way. He gave me the escape I needed, the only way that I could stay with my father. And without a heart, without a soul, I agreed.

Charlie died two years later, the day after Jacob proposed.

I fell back to the present with a gasp, my heart choking for air. I didn't recognize the odd sound coming from my mouth. I didn't understand that Edward was trying to hush my cries. I couldn't believe it.

"Oh my God." I blubbered. Edward stared at me with an unfathomable pain marking his beautiful face. It was obvious to him what had happened. He sat quietly with me as I wept for my multitude of losses, his cool hand rubbing gently against my arm.

I had given him up to be with my father. It was so unfair to him, and so inescapable.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered, twisting to look at him.

"Shh. No. You did what you thought was right, Bella."

"No. No, I could have stayed with you. I could have waited. I could have…" I sat struggling in his cold arms for a way that I could have escaped my decision. There had to have been a way to have been with him. There had to have been.

"You couldn't have waited. Bella, you couldn't have lived with yourself. If you had had an eternity to live, you would have always felt guilty, felt as though you didn't deserve the never-ending life that your father had barely gotten the chance to taste. I know you. You wouldn't have been able to deal with the grief. You did it for your father, so that you wouldn't hurt him, and so that you wouldn't hurt yourself. But Bella, you have no one to please but yourself now. You don't have to feel guilty for being with me. Please." He was begging now, pleading with me.

With tears on my cheeks and a flame in my chest, I kissed him hard on the mouth.

Though aware of the creature before me, I saw the man through the hard skin and the black eyes. I saw through the poison running through his veins and mouth, through the predator that had inhabited the man. And through them, I saw Edward Anthony Masen, a man who could cry and pulse and break. A man who had pressed forward, merging with the monster inside of him, to love me. A man who sat now before me crying and breaking in two. And in my eyes, in my mind, he was suddenly soft and fragile, so very fragile.

And I would have to break him again…wouldn't I?

I pulled my mouth from Edward's then, gasping. His eyes were locked with mine, taking in every unspoken word that traveled through my teary brown irises. I watched the reflection in his blackened vision, knowing that he would see the pain in mine and know that I was thinking of Jacob, know that I was hurting for Jacob. Know that I wanted to be with Jacob.

For only a moment, Edward's face contorted with so much torture that I was almost pulled in under the wave along with him, both of us drowning. But nothing ever stayed there on his face for very long. After only a second, the pain of his eyes melted into a blank stare and his face was smoothed out into a blanket of calm.

He looked absolutely dead. Shut down. Gone from me.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you." As he said this, I opened my mouth to cut him off, trying to soothe the pain he was hiding in his monotone voice. I wanted to reach out, to hug him, to pull him to me and erase the despair that I had brought to his stretched-out life. But he placed a hand over my mouth, his other tying down the wrist I had lifted to pull him to me. He took a long, deep breath, working to keep the blank look on his face.

"I am truly, deeply sorry. I was selfish and I've hurt you. I didn't mean to. It's no excuse—I should have known better. I'd just thought…" He caught himself as his voice quavered and the mask fell down. Then so quickly he was wearing the lifeless face again, and his feelings were clouded. "No matter. I hurt you and I'm a fool for it. You belong to Jacob. I see that now—maybe I always have. I apologize for wasting your time like this. It wasn't fair to either of you." He looked down for a minute, dropping my hand. "If you would, please give Jacob my apologies, too…though I'm sure he won't accept them."

So softly—a sighing of trees as the gentle morning breeze swept them—I heard him say that he loved me.

And then, just like that, he was gone. I'd barely even blinked.

I broke down right there in the middle of the forest, sucked down deep into the murky depths of three separate pains: Edward's, Jacob's, and my own.

I did not resurface.