4.

"I've already told you, I don't remember much," I say softly, my voice tremulous to my own ears. I look up from my fidgeting fingers and stare, teary-eyed at my father. "We left the bar and we were … I guess we were attacked. We had to be, right?" I close my eyes, battling the memories of that laugh … the screaming. "I remember Edward screaming and then … nothing."

There's a beat of silence, and I know my father and the detective here to take my statement are losing patience with me.

"And you're sure that's all you remember?"

I nod.

"Honey." My father reaches for me. I recoil. "Bella," he admonishes. "Come on, now. We need more than that to go on if we have any hope of finding him."

"I—" My voice cracks. "I want to help, but I don't remember."

The steady voice of Doctor Cullen reaches my ears. "I think she's had enough."

Begrudgingly, my father and the detective rise from their seats. "You'll call us if you remember anything else?"

With tears now streaming down my cheeks, I summarily dismiss them.

Slow footsteps grow louder as they near my bed. "How are you feeling?"

I blink up at the doctor. "Numb. Hopeless."

"That's to be expected."

"And …"

"What?"

"I'm confused," I admit.

"About?"

I turn my head and stare at the ceiling.

Flashes of memories that make me question whether or not I'm losing my mind.

The tiny incision on my abdomen from, supposedly, repairing internal bleeding so bad I was on the brink of death.

Doctor Cullen's expectant glances, like he's waiting for something.

Unthinking, I touch the bandage on my tender neck. "Everything," I rasp.

I leave the hospital Sunday. Instead of asking my father to pick me up, I take an Uber from Forks to Port Angeles. It doesn't stop him from texting me.

The hospital told me you were released this morning. Why didn't you wait for me?

Our apartment is just as we left it, Edward's discarded dress shoes haphazardly tossed in front of the closet and his work clothes laid out over the end of our unmade bed, alongside half-dozen of my dresses. It's obvious we were in a hurry to get to his party.

As if in a trance, I put away his shoes and hang his suit, taking a moment to bring his shirt to my nose. Closing my eyes, I inhale, the breath filling my lungs and the scent filling my mind. Unbidden, tears rush back, choking me, sobs racking my body as I sink to the floor.

There's been no word, no trace of him since he disappeared from the club on the waterfront that night. Dad told me there's surveillance footage of us leaving the club, but then …

It's like we vanished into thin air.

I lie there on the floor, at the end of our bed, my tears soaking my husband's shirt under my head. I don't see the looming shadow passing over my window.