I have returned home with deep reluctance after ten days' absence. I spent my time off the Washington coast, at the bottom of the sea, as the capsized wreck I am.

It should have been peaceful in the depths, but I was plagued by the echoes of my family's horrified faces and vicious accusations ringing in my ears. I could not escape the events of the past weeks and their repercussions, both practical and emotional look to stretch long into the foreseeable future.

Were they right? Had I gone too far and been blinded by love? Could I have deceived myself so thoroughly? One thought has been nagging me constantly since I entered the ocean and persists still: I would not willingly share details of my actions with her. I cannot deny that the thought fairly appalls me.

What does that mean?

I no longer know anything besides the cold, silent anchor of the heavy weight in my dead heart.

Eventually I grew frustrated with being buffeted about by the waves. The salt tasted of the tears I cannot shed, the rhythm of the tide mimicked the pulse I do not have, the breaths I do not breathe. Even the ocean was mocking my infernal nature.

I found myself resigned to my family's disapprobation. Perhaps it is no better than I deserve.

I feel very lost and am consumed by a profound sadness.

My love for her endures so strongly, though I wonder to what end? I shall never be good for her, never be able to love her the way she deserves, with a warm, beating heart. I shall never be able to sleep besides her, break bread with her, give her children or be laid to rest beside her. What use is it to feel this way? What has it all been for?

Why will it not stop?

I miss her so badly that I have returned home to continue my cursed existence here. If I can at least catch precious glimpses of her at school, surely Carlisle would not condemn that? I no longer know. I have fallen so greatly in his esteem from his favourite son to a source of shame and aggrievement. I can no longer meet his gaze.

Since my return I have spoken to no one, nor do I plan to. All are keeping their distance, I fear they no longer know what to think of me. They have likely abandoned all hope. I know I have.

A/N: Please leave a review! Edward may never speak again without one, and we all know you want to hear him call Emmett a potato at least once more!

This entry marks the start of the changes I mentioned in the author's note for Volume 2 part 1. Edward cannot continue being so atrocious to everyone indefinitely. It is time he ate some humble pie. He will come back to you, but he needs to have a difficult adolescence first.

I plan on uploading Remorseward chapters in batches so that those who are here for the comedy aren't alienated by the tonal change. I sincerely hope you will fall in love with him on the other side of all of this. The only way out is through.

Thanks to the creative, kind and funny wh1teow1 for being the best beta for this story please show some love and read Moirai, a reimagining of Twilight for the new decade!