(Disclaimer- nothing catchy. no ownership.)
okay, so i have a feeling that--if you don't already hate me for taking so long in putting this up--
you will hate me by the time you finish reading this chapter. :( its sad. but don't hate me anyway
because the story is NOT over. by now you must know that my storyline is always busting out some random
u-turns, changing direction constantly. so don't automatically want to plunge a knife in my throat if things
aren't going the way you want them to. i'm always changing things.
but anyway. read and review, please. :)
and sorry, this is a little short.
Poison
I woke in Jacob's bed. For one glorious moment, the shadow of sleep held strong to my mind, blocking from me the sight of a vampire's tortured black eyes, but soon even that no longer stuck. It was only one glorious moment, and then I was pulled up into myself in the fetal position, fighting back tears and confusion, wondering how I'd managed to get into the house and off the forest floor.
Pain was bitter and cold on my tongue and my hands felt emptier than ever before. My feet yearned for the trodden earth, the instinct to run slithering into my system like an ill-fated disease, but I couldn't draw away from myself. I would shatter if I moved so much as an inch.
When the door opened, Jacob froze in the frame, staring at me with wide eyes. Emotion flickered fervently on his face for just a second, and then it was gone. Something inside me dimmed and died as I watched him. I could see his need to turn around and slam the door, but he stood tall and determined where he was.
"Thought you were sleeping still." He excused himself, tone monochrome and bored. His eyes stared at my forehead but saw nothing. Instead they looked right through me to the wall behind my head. My heart was as empty as his gaze.
"Thanks for bringing me back here." I said after a moment, trying to find my footing in the conversation. His hate for me was palpable, but still I couldn't keep the vain hope that his love still existed from finding a way into my voice. My face was desperate no matter how hard I tried to change it.
His eyes narrowed. "I didn't bring you anywhere." It was nearly a snarl, and he sounded darkly amused by my assumption. The words were a harsh slap that reverberated throughout me. "That was Junior. Thank him."
"Where is he?" I murmured, voice shaky.
"Garage with Jenna. He told me to tell you the mother-son play-date is off." His tone was so cruel and mocking, so unlike him. He was Jacob, only soured like year-old milk. Intuition fed to me the idea that he no longer considered me safe or good for his son, no longer considered me trustworthy or nontoxic. No longer considered me to be family. Junior was Jacob's son only now. I was excluded. I could feel it down to the soles of my traitorous feet.
"Is there something you want him for?"
He may not have meant it, but I heard an edge to his words, and I could feel the shame twist around in my mouth, somehow becoming even bitterer than before. It seemed in my head that Jacob had been accusing me of trying to hurt my son, too.
I shook my head quickly, trying not to relay the pain from my chest to my face, staring at him. I hoped that he would look at me, just one short glance that held some meaning, one little ounce of affection, but he did not cast his eyes in my direction. His hand was tight on the doorknob.
My lip trembled for a moment. I couldn't keep it still. Tears were nearing.
"Jacob…" I started to say something, but couldn't process the thought. He glared at me balefully—the way the father of a murdered son would stare at the killer. He looked purely disgusted as I sat searching for a way to organize the hurt in my head. I couldn't take it.
"Does he hate me?" I whispered. That wasn't what I'd wanted to ask, but it drew me closer to the point. I blinked back the emotion, twisting my fingers around the sheets. Jacob averted his eyes, jaw setting snugly into place. His teeth were clenched.
"No." He muttered.
"That was a lie."
He looked back at me, his glare somehow impossibly intensified, ready to defend his son's feelings. "He's angry. Did you expect him to be strolling around whistling show tunes?" I shrunk back from his aggressive tone, flinching. His lips were curled up over his teeth.
Tears fell down my face. My hands shook. Jacob's eyes were locked on my fingers now, refusing to watch the slow break of emotion dawn in my eyes. I pulled my lids down over them, trying to conceal the hurt.
"You hate me, too." I managed to whisper. The warm sheets were ice against my flesh. I was frozen in time.
Jacob didn't respond. I guess I didn't expect him to.
Instead, he turned on his heels and slammed the door behind him. I opened my eyes just in time to watch him go.
Two seconds passed, then ten. I couldn't breathe as I waited, hoping foolishly that he would come back to me, open the door and pull me to him. I knew that it wouldn't happen, but I couldn't seem to keep myself from rolling it around inside my head, savoring the stolen beauty of it. But that happiness was not mine to have.
No, I would have to work for something like that.
I flung myself toward the door, blindly stumbling through the hallway, trying to locate him through tear-blurred eyes.
"Jacob!" I called pleadingly, using the door frame to propel myself forward. I felt so dizzy. I couldn't see where I was going and tripped, smashing hard into the floor. Crying, I forced myself back to my feet, hands stretched before me as though they could draw him back. My heart was but a gaping hole in my chest.
When I found him, he was standing motionlessly in the center of the kitchen. He had his back to me, fists drawn close to his sides. His entire core seemed to be shaking with anger and remorse, and I could feel the floor tremble beneath my feet. This was what I'd done to him. This was what had become of Jacob in the aftermath of me.
"Jake," I repeated. I despised the sound of my tears. It was so selfish of me to have been hurt. I knew he could hear the apology building in my throat, but that didn't stop me. I needed to say the actual words. "I'm so sorry." I breathed.
His fist hit the wall, breaking through it like play-dough. "Don't."
The word was so cruel and sharp that I felt it cut all the way from my ears to the soles of my feet. My limp arms begged to reach for him, to make him take me, but I would not let them. Jacob still had his back to me, body tense, refusing even to look in my direction, and I knew that he did not want me to touch him. I knew that he did not want me.
And it was then that I realized I'd lost him.
My eyes welled with too many tears, my throat so filled with sobs I feared opening my mouth, feared that the gush of misery would end me right there. That was what I deserved. I was so horrible and despicable.
I was a murderer of the very worst kind—a murderer of souls.
And still, even knowing this, I could not stop myself from throwing the knives.
"Jacob, please," I begged, dropping to my knees just two feet behind him. "Please?"
He spun around like an angry door on a broken hinge, his fists extended before him in absolute rage. The glint in his eyes was murderous. His black hair swung on his shoulders, making him look like a dark sorcerer intent on destroying the world. I felt so sleepy, so sunken.
"Why do you keep doing this to me!?" Jacob screamed. The angered mask slipped down a bit and his eyes filled with anguish. I felt every piece of his broken heart hit me, a thousand shards of glass handed over like a bouquet. I rocked on my knees.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry" I half-mumbled, half-sobbed. I couldn't remember any other words.
And then the hatred was gone. There was so much pain on his naked face that I could barely take it. To see this deep scarring that I'd caused him made me want to take a knife to myself, drag it deep beneath my skin, try to imitate his wound. But nothing could match what I'd done to him. Nothing compared.
His hands found his face. He dragged them over his features, pulling tears along with his fingers. His knees hit the floor before me and I crawled to him, draping myself around him like a defective curtain. Jacob pulled me into his arms.
"You're killing me, Bells." He whispered against my hair. His voice was raspy with tears. I sniffled, drowning.
"Sorry, so sorry." It was all I could manage.
He dragged his lips across my cheek, a parting gesture. My heart was gripped in ice as his hot lips met mine, harsh and horrifying. Was it really so similar to the kisses Edward had given me when he'd thought he would lose me? It couldn't be. No.
"I love you, but you're killing me." Fingers grabbed at my arms and separated me from him. He stood, shaking me from his leg as I tried desperately to reattach. "No, Bella." He scolded as I whimpered. "Please. I need you to leave. Go to your house—it's still yours. Go to the Cullens. Go to that Kyle kid's. I don't care. But you can't stay here. Not now. You've gotta get out. I can't take this now."
"No, Jacob. Don't do this. Don't."
His eyes hardened at my plea, grinding his teeth. "You know what I want, Bella."
Jacob didn't speak the words as though in a question, but with clarity and truth. He said it like a fact, and it was. I knew what he wanted. I knew.
"You said you didn't love him and you lied to me. You lied and you can't even make it right, can you? You can't look at me and tell me those four simple words. Can you? Can you tell me you don't love him? Do it, Bells, and I'll fucking sign this house in your name, too, with my own damn blood. Every piece of me is yours if you want it, but you can't have it both ways. You've gotta make up your mind. You can't do this to me anymore. I'm done. I have to be done."
My mouth burned. I felt the words scorch my tongue. I don't love him, I don't love him. But I did.
I couldn't say it. I couldn't get myself to say it.
His teeth clicked together audibly, nostrils flaring. With shaking hands, he flung the front door open, threatening, his eyes on my face. "Say it, Bella. Say the fucking sentence or get the hell out."
My fingers shook. My head was elevated in the air, detached. My heart was in the ground with my original body. I wished the whole of me could have joined them.
"Four words. Four damn words. Can't you say it?" His lips trembled and his eyes filled. Jacob clasped a hand to the door to keep himself on his feet. "Say it, damn you."
"I'm so sorry."
And then I was out on the street, Kyle's cell phone in my hand, with Jacob's last words ringing in my head.
"You're poison, Bella. Poison."