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And Yet They Shine
Obsession
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Bella awoke from a deep and troubled sleep. As she stretched against the cool sheets of her bed, her mind cast about for what was missing, what was off. The smell of her pillow was as it should be – cool, sweet from her shampoo, with a lingering scent that was hers and hers alone.
She twisted and watched motes of dust dance on the thin sunlight coming through her blinds.
Sunlight.
In a moment she remembered all that had passed. She sat up in a panic – her hand reaching for her nightstand before the thought was fully formed.
Edward.
Jasper.
She clutched the small silver vial, holding it close to her heart.
Forget.
With one swallow, she could forget it all.
Bella studied the vial. Silver casing held a small glass tube and silver liquid swirled within it. As Bella watched, the liquid transformed – it took shape as this and then that, the shape of a flower, the shape of a seashell. At one point, it looked like stars shining in the sky, or maybe it was sand shimmering on a beach. Bella was transfixed.
"It will be as if we'd never existed."
Was that what she wanted?
Bella set the vial aside and rose to dress. The shower she took was long and hot, but she didn't notice it. Standing under the spray, her mind was trapped by the past, a hostage to the future.
Her mother had left when she was a baby. Bella's memories of the woman were nothing more than postcards received near her birthday, and the occasional Christmas gift that arrived in March.
She knew her father loved her, in his own, private way. He'd cared for her, fed her, clothed her, housed her, but he'd never once made it to an open house or back to school night. He never inquired further than "how was school?" and "aren't you going out?" How to explain that she preferred the company of her books to the company of the pretty and petty, terrifyingly normal people at her school?
When he'd been killed in the line of duty during her freshman year of college, Bella had felt untethered. While her father's love hadn't been as rich as she'd needed, she knew, without question, that it was there. She knew that if she was in trouble, he would come. Who would come for her now?
Not long after his death, she began spending her evenings at the beach. At first, it was a way to feel connected to his memory. As child, he'd taken her out on the ocean often to fish. But then it became something more, something soothing. When she felt lost and faceless, the stars above gave her hope. They made her feel connected to something bigger than herself.
Without her father, she often felt like a childless mother: yearning to care for someone, but having no one who needed gentle ways.
Instead, she bestowed her graces onto her friends. She listened for hours as Jessica dissected her relationship with Mike. Was it true love? Was he the one? What did he mean when he said she was funny?
Angela was easier and harder. It was hard for her to accept the kindness of another, and so she and Bella played a game of fair: If Bella brought her coffee in the morning, Angela brought Bella tea in the afternoon. The score sheet always read zero-zero.
It was then that she realized it wouldn't have been any better with Edward. What could she possibly give him? He had the very world.
She dressed and dried her hair and left her apartment. She stopped and bought coffee for Angela and set up a late lunch with Jessica. If they asked, she'd tell them that she was called away at the last minute, a distant ill relative who needed her help for a few days.
She pretended not to notice when they didn't ask.
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That evening she wandered to the beach. One thousand steps down, and with each one, a new, confusing emotion hit her heart. When she reached the bottom, she cast about, but there was nothing, no one, there for her. No burning fire, no golden man dripping with honeyed eyes and honeyed skin. No dark god making her shiver with his smiles, and tremble with his frown. Nothing.
She lay on the sand, watching the moon shine on the waves, watching the stars, looking for…something. With the crash of a wave, it hit her: She would never see him, see any of them again.
The howl of pain, of frustration that loosed from her lungs was lost among the sounds of the waves. She was such a fool!
She'd been given a wish, given beauty and affection, not just once, but twice, and what had she done with it all? She'd tossed it all away in a moment of panic.
Could she have stayed with Edward, there beneath the earth? Could she have learned to rule by his side, perhaps brought some tenderness to the shades that filled his halls? Perhaps.
But now, she would never know.
In the days and weeks that followed, she spent each evening down by the water, first with her bare feet warm in the sand, then bundled in sweaters, and finally shivering until the dawn, wishing and wishing for what she'd lost.
As the weather turned cold, it was more than she could bear. The obsession, the constancy of him in her thoughts, to the full exclusion of the other brought her to a halt. She no longer went to classes. She no longer brought Angela cups of coffee or listened as Jessica talked at her about every little thing.
Instead, she spent her hours either lying in her bed, wishing for dreams, or lying on the beach, wishing for him.
It wasn't until Angela came to her house, eyes filled with unspoken worry, on the pretense of returning a borrowed book that Bella realized what had become of her.
That evening in bed, she fingered the silver vial, the potion of disregard. She searched her own heart and felt the stabbing pains, the pain of loss and grief – not only for that lost potential life, but for her own lost potential – for her current life. Was she any different from a shade?
She flicked the vial open. A drop of silver liquid balanced on the rim, and she reached for it with her tongue. The flavor was sweet, overwhelming. It tasted like flowers smelled – very sweet and full of colors, and as she consumed drop after drop, her worries and fears began to melt away. For a moment, she forgot where she was, why she was there.
That moment was all that was needed. There was a flash behind her eyes, a tall man with dark hair and bright, beautiful green eyes. He'd held her hand, hadn't he? They'd gone somewhere together once, right? Hadn't he…hadn't he kissed her?
Her body tingled with the remembrance of lips, like warm velvet, brushing against her own.
The vial fell from her hand and rolled under the bed, three small drops still hidden within.
Isabella sank back onto her pillow and fell into a deep, and trouble-less sleep.
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Thank you for reading.