"Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not."
~ James Joyce.
Charlie had finally given up and called me, asking me to bring Bella home. It'd been the most appalling conversation of my entire life.
I was sorry for him. He was so obviously unhappy to watch her go. But he sounded really scared. He said Bella wouldn't eat or drink or even get out of bed.
And the dreams… The dreams seemed to be what frightened Charlie the most.
So I'd hopped on a plane, mentally preparing myself to find a demolition zone at Forks. But the scene before my eyes was worse than my worst imagination.
My lively, upbeat daughter was gone. In her place was a broken girl. Her CDs were in the trash can. Her books were neatly ordered on their shelves. She herself was lying lethargically on the bed. Cheerful, active Bella, not moving from her bed. She was scary to look at.
I didn't need to ask what was wrong. It was very clear. It was her soul. Bella's beautiful, kind soul was crushed.
So she'd lied to me, and I'd been right. It wasn't just an infatuation. But that wasn't the most pressing matter right now.
I wasted no time, and started packing her things. I was confident she would heal with time. But definitely not here. This cold and damp place wouldn't help anyone.
If I'd been scared, that was the moment I completely panicked. She started screaming, writhing, throwing her clothes around.
Bella in hysterics. Oh my goodness. How bad was she? How far off the mark was I? She only subdued when I promised I'd let her stay in Forks.
It tore my heart in two. There was no pain worse than walking away from my daughter, leaving her in that state, unable to help. Unable even to hold her hand through hell. It made me feel dreadfully powerless.
I'd never connected so much with Charlie as with that last parting look we exchanged. There were no words I could have said, even if I'd been able to get past the lump in my throat. But he understood all the same. He was her parent, too.
I walked away, but I left my heart in Forks.