Loving all your thoughts and theories. I know it's a little different... I have to keep myself entertained somehow and not write the same ole same ole lol lots to uncover, thanks for trusting me and for being along for the ride!

The genre is kind of hard to nail down but since FFn only allows you to choose two: angst/suspense/thriller/dark comedy/romance

Thanks to Paige, May, Jennifer, Tandee, April, and Rosa (yes I dragged a RL bestie into this one for extra support, lol) for helping along the way! And a big heartfelt thank you to Lizzie Paige for the most beautiful, badass banner!

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three
mad woman
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Eight a.m. on Saturday.

After breakfast, I change into an oxblood sports bra with matching leggings, then jump on the Peloton that's begrudgingly in the corner of my bedroom.

The stationary bike was in the living room until last month when my cousin Jasper got tired of looking at it. He called it an eyesore. I countered with, "So is the wire tower that holds your CDs. The 90's called and want it back."

He shared his passionate stance on why he bought CDs over streaming music—he liked supporting artists directly, and can still play music if the Wi-Fi goes out. Even if I understood him, displaying the square, plastic cases seemed archaic and like an act of rebellion against my career as an interior designer.

In the end, the wire tower was retired to his room, and the Peloton was moved into mine.

Jas and I are close, but I can admit we have a codependent relationship. After losing the few family members I had, it was important for me to keep Jasper and Uncle Garrett—Dad—close to me.

When Jas went to college at U-Dub, Dad and I moved to Seattle, too. It didn't make sense for us to stay in Forks anymore. We were tired of the sad stares and hushed whispers, and the house we lived in had too many heart-wrenching memories.

After I graduated college nine years ago, Jas was in between relationships. He didn't want to move back in with Dad, so we got a place together thinking it would be temporary.

We've moved a few different times since then, but haven't lived apart since.

My cycling class starts on time, and my favorite instructor appears on the screen. She's challenging and encouraging; her entire outlook is about helping people heal from the inside out.

Today, I lower the volume because I don't need her motivating words. My mind is on Edward, and he keeps me more energized and focused than anything else.

Allowing him to consume my thoughts is becoming a pastime.

A toxic habit.

But learning about him from afar has given me purpose. Drive. Other than work, I haven't had something to look forward to in a long time.

I haven't told Jasper about seeing Edward yet. I don't want to because I know what he's going to say—that I should move on.

But I can't.

I haven't been able to for all of these years.

None of us have.

Dad suffers from depression.

Jasper is a functioning alcoholic.

I'm stuck between grief and denial, and right now what helps is thinking of ways to hurt the person who caused all of this.

I know it won't bring Rosalie and my Aunt Katherine back, but it'll sure feel fucking good.

Pedaling faster, I think over everything I've learned about Edward so far.

I know where he works (Virginia Mason Medical Center).

Which charities he's a part of (Surgeons of Hope, and a foundation that supports pancreatic cancer research).

What he likes (whiskey, sushi, hiking, and running marathons for said charities).

Women he's dated (blonde and blonder).

I need a way to organically run into him, other than the coffee shop if possible. I need him to think I belong in his life. That we have something in common. I need a reason to interact with him often.

I'm not physically sick—mentally is another story—so there's zero reason for me to hang around the hospital where he works. The charities he supports don't have any upcoming events I can attend. And my chestnut hair has never been touched by bleach, so there's no guarantee he'd even look my way when I run into him.

This is already not looking promising.

Maybe I could lean into my rage by just keying his precious car. Engrave the words murderous, lying prick in capital letters along what I'm sure is the latest BMW.

But he'd probably just buy another.

Maybe I could somehow get him fired from his esteemed job. Claim malpractice?

But he's a heart surgeon. I can't exactly fake heart issues long enough to get an appointment with him. Even so, he'd likely stay employed because of money and connections. People like that aren't easily taken down. Clearly.

I continue working up a sweat, trying to focus.

Even though the volume is low, I hear the instructor telling us to increase our resistance because she likes to torture us. Well, she doesn't add the last part but it's implied.

I keep going, determined to make this my most productive ride this week. And what I need for that to happen is to come up with a solid plan regarding Edward.

What would hurt him the most?

What would mark him for life?

What would bring him to his knees?

What rocks people's worlds other than grief?

I think and think and think.

Yes, loss changes you.

But so does love.

Love can lift you up.

Tear you down.

Make you feel like your best, your worst.

Love is everything and nothing.

Captivating and consuming.

Devastating and deadly.

He won't be the same.

Maybe it's too simple, but my plan's set because it's the only way I'm guaranteed to hurt him.

I'm going to make Edward Cullen fall in love with me.

And then I'm going to ruin his life.