Chapter 3: Forgiveness

Just like when we were kids, she is still a mystery to me. I just can't figure out what part of the Bella Swan I knew is still inside.

Some moments, we laugh and joke the way we used to. She teases me about silly habits I still keep, like always putting the volume of my radio on an even number. Or she calls me a mommy's boy when I admit that I never bothered to cook before. Up till last year, my mom stuffed my freezer with food that she already prepared, so I never learned. I try to act insulted, but usually we just end up laughing together at my inability to do chores.

On days like that, I feel like I'm sharing my home with my best friend, and it's the greatest feeling.

But then all of the sudden, an invisible switch is turned, and she's a complete stranger again. It still catches me by surprise, even though the proof of her change is there.

The Bella I knew would never wear a dress, or high heels. And she definitely wouldn't come home smelling of aftershave.

That first time she went out, I was naive enough to believe she was having a drink with friends or joining a party. But when she returned, I quickly noticed that her hair was wet. She was freshly showered and still had a masculine smell on her. She didn't have to explain.

Since then I tried to ignore the way it made me feel. What did I expect? That she would fall for me, just because I'm silly enough to fall for her again?

She never did even back when we were younger.

No, she never fell for me, and I don't expect her to now. But back then, she wasn't interested in other boys either.

In fact, she hated them. All of them.

She often mentioned I was the only boy in the whole world that she didn't hate. Things like that comforted me. Even when it made me wonder if those high school kids calling her a dyke were right all along.

But now, that definitely changed.

I like to believe the only reason I'm upset is because she won't talk to me about it. Whoever her boyfriend is, she never talks about him. While I tell her all those stupid details about my life and my new soccer team, or the embarrassing fan mail I receive.

I try to tell myself that there is nothing else to it, but that's bullshit of course. Even if she would be honest about it, I'd still be upset.

I hate to admit it but I'm simply jealous.

Somewhere along the way, man-hater Bella Swan turned into a woman, a beautiful and straight woman, and I missed it.

I know it's entirely my own fault. Our friendship didn't just vanish into thin air, we both did a pretty good job at killing it, and whatever happened to Bella after high school, I missed it because I wanted to miss it.

Sixteen years old

"Such a shame the PE classes are separated," Chris says, pointing at Rebecca and her friends, who are leaving the girls locker room and making their way towards us. The girls just had swimming class, so they are all occupied styling their wet hair. The boys finished basketball class a few minutes ago and most of us are already waiting in the school yard for our next class.

"Even if PE was a mixed course, we still wouldn't share a locker room with them," Tom responds, rolling his eyes.

"I know," Chris replies, "but I wouldn't mind seeing Rebecca in her bathing suit either."

"Hey, watch it," Kevin says while nudging Chris, "that's my girlfriend you're talking about."

To prove his point, he crosses the last distance between himself and the girl and starts kissing her deeply right in front of us. I avert my eyes while some boys make whistling noises.

"Hey dyke," Steven suddenly shouts. I don't have to look up to know who he's yelling at and I sigh.

Bella just steps out of the girls locker room, her dyed hair still dry and her heavy black make up still in place. I know she always makes up excuses to skip PE so that nobody sees her many bruises.

She flips Steven off and walks past us. I feel uncomfortable and I wish they would just leave her alone, but I don't have the guts to stop them.

He's not finished though. "Did you enjoy ogling the girls in the showers? I bet you're real wet now. Does your pussy have purple hair too?"

Bella shouts something back at him, but the sound is drowned out by the roar of laughter that follows Kevin last remark.

I pretend to like the joke, but suddenly stop when I see Bella stare straight at me. My face falls, but again, I don't dare to speak up and she turns around and walks away.

Later that evening when I'm walking home after school, I speed up to catch up with her but she ignores me.

"Bella, please, I'm sorry."

"Leave me alone," she grumbles, without looking up at me or slowing down.

I try to grab her arm, but she pulls free easily.

"You shouldn't be mad at me," I mutter angrily, "I wasn't the one shouting."

"Sure, Jacob," she says in an exasperated tone, "tell that to the mirror later."

She speeds up so that there's some distance between us now.

"Hey," I shout madly, "it's not my fault everybody calls you a freak. Look at you, you are a freak."

She turns around and if glares could kill, I'd be dead now. I stop in my tracks and wait for her to respond.

"Shut up, Jacob. If you wanna play with your new stupid jock friends and their bimbo girlfriends, then go ahead. Be an empty headed dick as well. But don't go chasing me like a coward when nobody's watching and pretend you care, because I'm better off without you."

"You know I…" I start, but she won't let me finish.

"Just leave me the fuck alone," she practically screams and then turns around to run home.

My shoulders sag and I know that her scarce visits to my bedroom will be completely over now. I have totally blew it this time.

And the worst part is that I actually feel relieved about it. I don't know what has gotten into Bella this year, but I sometimes don't recognize her anymore. She's no longer funny, she's always either tired or angry, and mostly both. I know her dad and brother don't treat her too well, but she's not a very nice person either these days. Her mood swings are pretty annoying and maybe I am better off without her too.

I've thought a lot about those last words in the years to follow. And I always bring them in relation to what happened just a few weeks later.

One morning she didn't show up for class, and the next week, our teacher announced that Bella nearly succeeded in a suicide attempt and would be spending the rest of the school year in a recovery place. Some guys muttered that she would fit well in a nuthouse, but it wasn't funny anymore.

And when she returned the next year, nobody teased her about it, we all just ignored her. Including me.

Over time, I learned to let go of her in my mind. I finally stopped wondering what went wrong.

But now she's back, all the questions return as well, full force.

How could I be such a douchebag to the girl I loved above all else? Wasn't it clear to me that she was suffering? Why didn't I stand by her? Did I want to belong to those guys so badly that I wanted to betray her like that? And how selfish was I to actually feel relieved when she pushed me away for good?

I meant to apologize to her as soon as I ran into her, the way I should have ages ago. But somehow, I still don't find the guts to own up to my mistakes, just because I know she'll hate the conversation. It doesn't make the actual words any less needed, so I tell myself I'm waiting for the right time.

But it never seems to happen. Either she's in a distant mood, and then I don't want to open up to her. Or she's in a good mood, and the atmosphere feels so nice between us that I don't want to ruin it by talking about complex matters.

So the days and the weeks move on and my guilt lingers in the back of my mind.

We find a comfortable rhythm together and she slowly feels like my friend again. Every morning she wakes up first because her classes start at 8. She has breakfast alone, but makes coffee for the both of us. I have difficulties getting out of bed, so I keep procrastinating, until I only have time left for a quick shower and a cup of coffee. There's cardio training all morning, lunch at the club, and then a massage and individual training until three.

By the time I get back home, she's already studying at the desk in our living room.

We take turns in cooking dinner. When we're both home, we eat together and talk about our day. When she's going out, I leave her portion in the microwave.

Whoever her boyfriend is, either he is too cheap to buy her food, or he is a master at making her hungry, because she eats like a wolf when she returns late. Apart from his inability to keep her well fed, I also doubt his ability to make her happy, because whenever she returns, her mood is so foul I make sure to stay far away.

But I won't ask her about it, because I know a part of my doubt is simply caused by jealousy.

Tonight, she's staying in and it was my turn to cook. I have become a better chef, under her guidance, and I must say that the stew I prepared tastes really well.

We sit and talk at the kitchen table long after the food is finished. It's a Friday so she's in no rush to clean up the dishes and start studying, and apparently she's not going out either.

When the conversation slows down into a comfortable silence, something catches my eye.

Her arms are relaxed on the table, with her sleeve moved back just enough to show the pale skin of her scars. Without thinking I reach over and take her hand in mine.

She's surprised, but she doesn't recoil, which surprises me in return. I gently place her hand in mine, her palm facing me, and with my fingertips, I softly trace her wrist up to the scars.

When she suddenly realizes what I'm doing, she gasps and wants to pull back, but I hold her hand tight and keep it in place.

I glance into her wide eyes and she stares right back at me. The fear is obvious, it's almost terror, but we stay motionless until her arm relaxes and she sighs.

We both look down at her hand again when I caress the scars and soothe her skin as if I'm trying to erase that part of her past.

"What happened, Bella, back in high school?" I ask in a soft voice.

"You know what happened," she responds confused, "I cut my wrists and ended up for three months in a mental institute."

"I don't mean that. I mean, what happened to us? Why did we stop being friends? I think about that a lot."

"I'm sorry," she mutters, looking away.

"No. I'm the one who should feel sorry. I was such an idiot back then. I can't believe I joined those stupid jocks and made fun of you."

Bella shrugged but I can tell that she's still hurt by it. I squeeze her hand and whisper "I'm sorry."

She looks up at me and shakes her head. "Don't. You were right, I was a freak. I think I actually tried to be a freak, just so everybody would leave me alone."

"But I shouldn't have left you alone. I was your best friend."

"I get it. I was mean, I pushed you away."

"Yes, and I let you. I should have stayed with you. Maybe this wouldn't have happened."

She shakes her head and suddenly pulls her arm away, hiding her scar underneath her sleeve.

I want to reach over and take it back, but I don't have the guts. I know she'll reject my touch and just like I did back then, I will allow her to reject me.

"You're wrong, Jacob. This," she looks at her wrist, "has got nothing to do with you. And no matter what you could have said or done, it wouldn't have changed a thing, back then. I would have dragged you down with me. That's why I needed to push you away."

"I would have gone down with you gladly," I whisper. "Didn't you know how much I loved you?"

To my horror I notice two tears escape her eyes when she nods.

"That's exactly why you needed to stay away. I would have destroyed you, Jacob. There's something bad, something evil inside me."

"Bella…"

I lean in to brush the tears from her cheeks, but she withdraws as if my fingers burn her.

Furiously, she rubs her eyes, to wipe away the new tears that want to fall, and she adds in a thick voice without looking at me, "I never blamed you for anything, I still don't. I understood, even back then, why you acted the way you did. You had been nice to me for years and I never gave anything back. You just finally realized in high school, even though you cared for me, which I don't doubt, that you had more in common with them than with me. So you choose a different path. It's completely understandable, and if you want my forgiveness, then here it is, I never blamed you, and you couldn't have changed certain things, even if you wanted to."

She stands up and starts walking towards her bedroom to disappear on me again.

"Wait, Bella, I didn't look for forgiveness. I just want to know you. I want to know what happened, who this new Bella is."

She doesn't look back though and closes her door behind her.

AN: How do you feel about what happened when they were 16? Anyone to blame or both understandable? Share your thoughts...