Bella
It's several days later. Edward and I have just pulled up outside my house. My insides are churning.
"I don't have to leave," he says holding my hand across the central column, "we can find a different way."
Taking a steadying breath, I look him in the eye, "No, you need to go. It'll make everything easier, besides, you need to hunt anyway, and I mean more than just some poor bunnies that get too close to the house."
I squeeze his hand and then let go, getting out of his car. The door closing rings in the quiet street briefly and I blink back the start of tears.
Although this has been decided for some time, the idea of him being so far away and potentially in danger just fills me with dread. Jasper had managed to find some form of trail and followed her a distance, but hadn't been able to catch her. The hope is that Edward's gift would help give them an edge and, if nothing else, help identify her plan.
Pushing away from the car, I walk up to the front door, throwing my back pack on my back as I go. When I reach the door, I don't turn around, not being able to watch him drive off.
I push the key into the lock and let myself inside the dark house.
Even though I know that at least one of the Cullen's is outside on guard, I can't help flinching at all of the shadows.
All day at school, I'd been restless too, to the point where Mr Burke had asked me to stay behind after the lesson to check that I was alright. Knowing that something is coming is scaring me much more than I would have thought possible. Edward theorised that it was a result of the trauma with James, that I'm finally having the usual reactions to threats from their kind, but I'm not sure.
Dropping my bag on the floor, I go around the house, turning on all of the lights.
Happy that there's nothing hiding in the dark that's about to jump out and get me, I grab my bag and spread my homework out on the table. Finally, from the bottom of the bag, I pull out two small bottles of pills, the ones that Carlisle had given me a few days beforehand.
I haven't taken any yet, too scared to do so; not knowing the effect they'll have on me. However, as I was sitting in class yesterday, I'd decided that today, while Edward is away, would be the day to start.
It's a stupid idea to do it without anyone knowing or being able to help, but I'm so fed up of always being the weak link. If what Carlisle said was true about the first few days of these meds being rough, I'd rather do that without being constantly watched by an overprotective boyfriend.
Opening the first bottle, I place one of the small white pills in my hand.
If Carlisle is right, which I don't doubt he is, it should start to work in around 20 minutes. So, I just need to keep myself together for that long then I can work out what to do next.
Hoping that no one is watching too closely, I pop the pill in my mouth, chasing it down with a large gulp of water.
I start to panic. What if that were the wrong thing to do, what if it doesn't work, what if… what if…
The thoughts race and I have to steady myself on the edge of the table so as not to topple off of the chair when my head starts to spin.
"Calm down," I tell myself, forcing my hand to pick up a pen and pull the first assignment towards me.
Lit.
I can manage Lit, I know the book well enough. Besides, I can always rewrite this if it doesn't work.
Compare the dynamic between the two main characters.
Each word is a struggle to write, trying to stay focused on the work is so hard when the whole time I just want to rip it to pieces and throw it out the window.
Several times I have to revisit the question, reminding myself what on earth I'm meant to be answering, and every time it seems to just disappear again.
Looking over what I've done, I see that I've barely written a sentence, and that sentence doesn't even make any sense.
Throwing the pen down on the page, I let out a small scream of frustration.
Feeling as though my skin is covered in ants, I stand up and start pacing around the living room.
Quickly, I realise that the space isn't big enough.
Frustrated with everything, and still feeling wrong, I rip my sweater off and throw it against the wall. It doesn't help.
Instead it just exposes my skin so there's no protection from the scratching I'd been unconsciously doing.
As the frustration continues to build, so is the dark hole in my chest. While initially I'd been able to ignore it, now that Edward is getting further away, I can feel it opening up wider and wider.
The walls start to close in on me, the room spinning as I keep pacing backwards and forwards.
I let my head fall into my hands and grasp at my hair hard, trying to stem off the screams that seem to be rocking through my head.
Realising there's only one thing that's going to help, I rush upstairs and throw open my side table.
As I'm reaching for what I know is going to be instant relief, I see the cell phone that Charlie had returned earlier that morning.
Stumping backwards as though shocked, I start to shake. What should I do? Do I trust them? Did they mean it? If they did, will I be causing a bother?
My breathing keeps increasing and it feels as though I'm about to die.
Picking up both items, I weigh them both in my hands.
Which is better? Do I want to take that risk?
Knowing there's nothing left to lose, I pick up the small device in fumbling fingers. But, before I can dial any number, a cool hand wraps around mine.
I look up into the worried but safe face of Esme.
Without a single hesitation, I launch myself into her arms, letting my objects clatter to the floor.
"I'm sorry," I chant quietly as I sob on her shoulder.
Esme wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her lap, and hums as I cry out my frustrations and fears.
Some time later, all the fight has left me. I feel quiet. I still don't let go or move. Even when I start to shiver from her cold body, I don't move.
Her arms are different to Edwards; safe, but in a different way. The way I'd wished my mom would have shown me as a child when I woke up from a nightmare or stumbled in the park. She'd always acknowledged it, there was just never the patience to wait.
Eventually, I have to admit that I'm getting too cold here without a sweater and I pull away. Cool fingers come to my face wiping away tears.
"You did so well," Esme says as I move to sit on the edge of the bed. In front of me, on the floor is the red casing of the enclosed pen knife.
With a trembling voice, I say, "Can you take it?" Swallowing to try and clear the lump in my throat, I continue. "I'm scared. I don't want it to be so easy."
"Of course I can, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."
"You shouldn't be. I was so close… I would have broken my promise and I didn't even consider it. I'm such a bad person."
"No, you aren't Bella. You're struggling, it's different. And I know how close you were, I also saw you stopping and considering your options. That's hard." She must sense my discomfort, and I'm grateful that she promptly changes the subject. "Did I see that you were working on homework downstairs?" I nod, "Do you want some help? I've got nowhere else to be so I may as well be useful."
Although homework is the last thing on my mind right now, passing the time with something helpful is at least better than sitting pining the day away.
When I stand up to go and wash my face in the sink, I see that it's only been half an hour since I arrived back. Shocked at how little time has passed, I continue onwards.
Letting the tap run for a few moments to let some of the warm water through, I consider what had happened. Usually, this type of event would take hours to come down from and then it's only usually once I'm exhausted. Then I remember the tablet I'd taken and a glimmer of hope starts to bubble up inside me.
It worked, just like Carlisle suggested that it would. Maybe, there's a chance of being semi-normal again, or at least not have quite such bad crazy moments.
I splash water on my face and when I look up, I can see the faint traces of a smile on my face.
Hope.
Esme and I spend several hours working through homework and general house chores. As much as I feel that her company is menial and a waste of her time, I can't help appreciating her warmth.
When Charlie got back, he too couldn't help but gravitate towards her.
Around dinner time, Esme excused herself, explaining that she needed to get back to ensure that Emmett hadn't destroyed the house. In truth, I know that she's going to wait in the woods outside the house.
Taking the opportunity without her watching me, I take the other small pill bottle to my bedroom, and this time with less hesitation, I throw it back.
Hiding the bottle underneath my pillow, I go back downstairs to serve up the food that Esme had been preparing whilst I wrote essays. Embarrassed that I hadn't even asked what she was making, I take a big sniff, trying to identify some of the spices.
My eyes confirm what my nose had suspected as I lift the lid of the pot on the stove. Inside is a steaming mound of beef stew. The gravy looks thick and flavourful and the vegetables look cooked to perfection.
Mouth watering, I grab two bowls, serving both Charlie and I a large ladleful each, adding a thick hunk of buttered bread on the side.
We eat in a slightly tense silence. When his bowl is about half way empty, mine still relatively full, he clears his throat and starts talking. "Where's Edward?" he asks, a slight hint of accusation in his tone.
"Out of town. He didn't say what he was doing." I hope that he doesn't notice the lie. "Should be back in a few days though."
"Should be?" he asks, sceptical.
"Yes, as you saw, his family is still here, there's no reason not to return." My anger is growing, but I stay calm and in control.
Charlie must sense my mood because he stops questioning me further.
"Is there any more news on Billy?" I ask, hoping that something new will have come through. So far there's been nothing - not that anything is expected given that the search has been called off. Rachel is resolutely sticking to her story, which most of the cops seem to believe, but with damning evidence and no reliable alibi for the time, they've got no choice but to keep her secured.
"Nothing." He turns grave. "I'm resigned to the idea that we probably…" he trails off, struggling to finish his thoughts. "Unless something new turns up, there's nothing more we can do."
I watch as he puts down his fork. "But even this, it don't compare to you running off. Billy's my best friend, but a daughter… I thought my world would end, Bella. I've seen how hard it's been for you, how hard it still is. How'd I help you? What can I do?"
"Nothing," I say, pushing away from the table and starting to clear away my bowl.
"Even this," Charlie shouts, jumping up and moving towards me and gesturing towards the bowl. "Look Bells, it's still full. I thought… I'd hoped with them back, it might fix things, but you're just faking your smiles now."
"I've got help," I say, my cheeks flushing. "I've been speaking to Carlisle and he's… he made some suggestions. But, please, I don't want to talk about it here, too. I don't want to speak about any of this ever. I wish it would just go away."
"I'm worried. You're of age, but I still want to know. I need to know you're safe. Just, give me something."
"Can you speak to Carlisle?" I ask wimping out of the conversation. "I'll tell him that he can tell you what's happening. Just… right now, I can't."
"Thank you," he says, shifting his weight around, something I've seen him do several times when feeling awkward.
Putting him out of his misery, I dispose of the bowl but take the bread with me upstairs.
I pull out my laptop and start to pick at the bread.
As soon as it loads, a notification pops up telling me that I've got an email from mom. Looking at the date, I realise that it had come through a few days ago and I'd completely missed it.
Opening the email, I read through the ramble about her comings and goings with Phil and his work and everything that's happening. Only right at the end was there a tiny sentence asking if I'm alright, almost as though it were an afterthought.
Renee and Charlie had argued the first few days after I got back from Italy. She hadn't seemed to see the issue with me up and leaving and had simply asked if I'd enjoyed my spontaneous holiday. Since then, she'd been treating me as though everything is all back to normal and there's nothing wrong. Admittedly, I've also not made an effort to correct her.
Pasting a smile onto my face, trying to at least pretend to be happy for her adventures, I type out a response, skirting around the current issues.
When the screen tells me it's been sent, I scroll through the other junk emails that have been coming through recently. As per usual, there's nothing worth keeping, so I sit and delete them one at a time.
Having finished the menial jobs that were keeping my hands and mind busy, I shut the laptop and lay back to stare at the ceiling. Even now, I can tell that tonight is going to be tough.
Apologies for the missing update last week, I'm sick and beta reader was away. Should be back to normal uploads from now though. I hope you enjoy!