Hello, everyone!
As always, I cannot thank you enough for reading and for leaving reviews. I know the journey is quite rough, seeing that Edward is drowning in self doubt and anxiety, so I really appreciate your patience.
And special thanks to CoppertopJ, whose editing skills are out of this world.
Now let's dive in, because this chapter will go to some interesting places ;)!
When I broke up with Bella, I hadn't been ready to fully let go of my mission to keep her safe.
While I relied on divine providence to keep her in one piece, I couldn't count on it to also tie up my loose ends. And the one loose end I couldn't afford to ignore was Victoria. I was aware that my decision to leave meant leaving Bella exposed to the inescapable danger of that revenge-hungry vampire, who was slobbering greedily at the thought of avenging her psychopathic mate.
In return, I made a promise to myself to hunt Victoria down and keep my Bella safe. It was the last thing I could do for her—one she would never have to find out about.
What I didn't account for was the fact that I was far from a great tracker. While I managed well enough to chase her away from Forks, guided by my senses and Alice's visions, I didn't take into consideration how eerily apt Victoria was at never making a clear plan and sticking to spur-of-the-moment decisions. It was almost like she had a gift of her own—this chaotic spontaneity that managed to catch even Alice off-guard at times.
One year ago, during the last week of May, I was on pins and needles, knowing that Bella's graduation day was coming. I hung around the outskirts of Forks for days while my sister kept me posted through phone calls about the various visions she had been having of Victoria infiltrating the school grounds during the ceremony and stalking Bella into a dark corner until she had nowhere to run. Even if my family insisted on helping me by joining the hunt, I refused to drag them into my mess again. They had new lives, and I didn't want to disrupt them by asking them to help me kill a predator. Undoubtedly, my refusal was not enough to convince them—at least not until I threatened to cut off all contact with them if they persisted.
So, I was alone on the gloomy Wednesday when it happened.
That day, I kept scouring the very edges of the town, making sure that I knew precisely who was entering and who was exiting the premises. With Victoria keeping her distance, I started hoping that Alice's visions would remain an unfulfilled possibility and nothing more. As time went on, she could see Victoria driving in circles somewhere in Sappho, in a stolen car, caught between the decision to fulfill her plan and the decision to postpone it again. As much as I wanted to go to Sappho and end her for good, I couldn't risk the possibility of leaving the town unattended now. What if the vengeful monster turned around at the last minute? What if I wasn't fast enough and she managed to reach Bella before I could?
The thought made me shudder in horror, further reinforcing my conviction that the time for actually fighting Victoria had to take a back seat, because the mission of actively protecting my beloved was much more urgent.
As the day went on, I heard cars and thoughts of people leaving Forks and going to Port Angeles to celebrate graduation with a proper dinner. I listened to the passing noise around me, careful not to miss anything. My concentration peaked when, from miles away, I recognized the familiar mental noise of Bella's mother. Loud and clear, her mind almost begged to be noticed—in a way Bella's mind never did.
I had no choice but to give her my full attention.
She seemed preoccupied with the possibility of missing her plane. But in between fragments of worries, she was also reminiscing about how the day went. About how strange it had been for her to wake up in the house she ran away from when her daughter was still a baby—and how it was even stranger that she was now alone in a car with Charlie, as he drove her to Port Angeles, so that she could catch her plane to Orlando, where Phil was getting ready for a big game. About how Bella barely smiled through the graduation ceremony, but made an exception when Charlie took a picture of her and Jacob together. About the modest lunch the four of them shared at home after Bella insisted she was more than happy to reheat some lasagna instead of going to a restaurant.
As Renée's thoughts were sifted through the transparent sieve of her mind, I couldn't help but feel envious. Missing such an important event in the life of my one and only love—only to see pieces of it in the mind of someone else—felt like being stabbed in the heart a thousand times consecutively. I wanted to deny this envy, but it was as much a part of me as my thirst was.
It wasn't until the car got closer that I started to decipher Charlie's thoughts as well. As usual, it was difficult to get a proper glimpse at them, since they seemed to be so well-guarded, but not impossible. I could hear the bittersweet nostalgia that was troubling him, although it was rather unclear whether the feeling was caused by the milestone in his only daughter's life or by the rare occasion of sharing the same car with his ex-wife and not exchanging a single word with her.
After a while, the familiar mental clatter started to dissipate, serving to clear my head a little—just enough to check the new text received from Alice.
'Safe for now. 91% sure of it. She's in Maple Grove, in the same stolen Ford. The driver is still knocked out, but she is considering the possibility of killing him before he wakes up.'
There was no way I was taking any chances if there was a nine percent chance of placing Bella in harm's way. I wondered if there was any rhyme or reason behind Victoria's dedication to driving around aimlessly, as if she had grown bored of her stalking game. As I got to find out eventually, she had once again chosen to rely on hazard, in an annoyingly successful bid to evade Alice's power.
And the hazard eventually materialized itself—early enough for Alice to call me in a frenzy, too late to do anything to stop it.
Somewhere between Maple Grove and Port Angeles, the roads of Victoria and Bella's parents converged. Victoria's new plan didn't really take shape until she realized she recognized the scent of Charlie—and with it, she saw the fucked up opportunity to send a warning. Less than three minutes separated the moment when my sister called, completely terrified of what she had seen, from the moment when Victoria turned around and crashed into Charlie's car from behind at full speed, driving both vehicles off the road and straight into the depths of Lake Sutherland.
As the paramedics were going to declare, Renée and Charlie died before they hit the water, the sheer force of the collision being enough to splinter their spines, crush their skulls, and turn their brains into irreparable mush. The other man—the one whose car had been stolen—had not been any luckier. He was unfairly declared guilty post-mortem for causing the accident, the case closing before the victims' loved ones got to process the loss—and without them ever finding out that he had never been in the wrong.
The guilt for leaving Bella so utterly alone didn't really register at first—in fact, it wasn't until weeks later, when I was watching the red-headed monster burning in front of my eyes, that I started to understand that if Bella and I had never met, her family would have still been alive and well.
And the deeper that strain of knowledge sunk in, the more I wanted to disappear completely.
The evening was not ready to surrender to the fast-growing night when I found a spot for my car in the little parking lot by the graveyard, right under the branches of an old alder. Bella had just finished telling me the story of how her parents died—well, the official version, the only version that she knew. I was certainly thankful when we got out and I got to breathe properly again, finally getting a break from the narcotic essence filling up the air in my car.
I walked carefully to Bella's side of the car and leaned on the door while she rearranged the flowers in the bouquet. Standing so close to her, I felt unsure of what I was supposed to do next, now that we were here. I wasn't even sure if she wanted me to go with her further—not to mention that it felt morally wrong to visit the grave of the man I inadvertently killed when his daughter was right by my side.
"You know, you can take your time there, I can wait," I said, in an attempt to back down.
"What do you mean? You're not coming?"
"I just want to give you some privacy, that's all."
"Edward, privacy is my last worry right now," she assured me. "I mean, I don't want to walk alone in a cemetery when the light is almost gone."
"You didn't bring a flashlight?"
"Why would I need a flashlight when I've got you here?" There was a strange fondness in her voice when she uttered those words, one that I didn't know how to interpret without driving myself crazy. "Just tell me when I need to watch out for obstacles and I'll survive."
She really didn't have to fight hard to convince me to do anything. As wrong as it was to proceed with this walk and all that it entailed, I could not deny her wish—and how could I ever leave her to deal with the incoming darkness alone? With a defeated nod, I accepted, and we headed to the entrance gate, making our way past the unassuming guard, and into the large graveyard.
The gravestones looked purple and lonely, as most people preferred to pay their homage to the dead during the day. The place reminded me of a labyrinth, as the main road appeared to bifurcate sooner than one would expect, with each path ramifying in new directions that led to various patches of graves. Small fir trees seemed to pop up here and there, disrupting the horizon line and accompanying the deathbeds.
"Where to?" I asked, and Bella signaled me to turn left.
I followed her directions, and the newfound path caused the wind to blow Bella's perfume straight into my nose. The agony would have been sublime if it hadn't caused my imagination to go rogue. But it was downright impossible to ignore how easy it could be to stave off the pain and end my inhuman hunger. We were virtually alone—save for the guard dozing off in his cabin—so no one would notice if Bella and I were to sneak behind one of the few solitary trees. Would she try to stop me if I leaned in, begging to get a taste of her blood? Would she mind if I allowed my lips near hers before I dove into my darker needs? Would she long to feel our bodies pressed together, in a bid to smother the pain of my bite, as I drank and drank and drank?
I shuddered, as my reason forced the abominable fantasies out of me.
I would never do such a thing to her—not even if the circumstances made it so that I could. I loved her too much to allow myself to go there.
"This place feels so odd when it's not broad daylight," she observed. "It makes me understand why cemeteries are a regular set-up for horror movies."
"Any place can be a set-up for horror movies if it's dark enough."
"Fair point. I once saw one taking place in an amusement park, although I can't remember what it was called."
I chuckled, a little bewildered as I learned something new about her. "Since when do you watch horror movies?"
"Since I realized that most of them are funnier than regular comedies." Bella raised her eyes up to glance at me, and I instantly detected the playful determination dancing in them.
"I'm not sure being funny is their intended purpose though," I replied. Before she could fight back with an argument, I noticed a small boulder a few feet away from us. She was still looking at me, unaware of the obstacle to come, when I turned back to warn her. "Be careful where you step, there's a big rock there."
Squinting at the road ahead of us, Bella slowed her pace, taking calculated steps, until she successfully passed the hurdle.
"It may not be their intended purpose," she continued, "but have you seen a horror movie lately? More often than not, they're so ridiculous it's funny—and that's just based on the bad decisions made by the main characters. Decisions that no one would make in real life if they had half a brain. And if we're talking about visual effects, that's another Pandora box."
As much as I loved to hear the heated passion of her argument, I was also aware of the irony of it all. I wasn't sure that she was aware of it. "Bad decisions, you say?" I had to hold back my laugh as I talked. "Such as—I don't know—walking in a graveyard by a vampire's side, right before nightfall?"
"Oh, that doesn't count and you know it."
"I'd wager it does."
"No, it doesn't, because I'm not in danger with you. The two of us, here? We'd make for the most boring horror movie in existence."
She was teasing my self-control, taunting it. Had she known the exact thoughts in my brain, she might have taken her words back. I chose not to say anything, out of courtesy—or maybe selfishness, because I really, really didn't want her to run away. So we walked in silence some more, with Bella guiding me in the right direction and with me warning her about the rocks and twigs along the way.
Minutes later, she slowed down, stopping altogether once she reached a patch of land that was half surrounded by rhododendron bushes, half barren. A few more steps and I could see, past the mauve flowers, the simple gravestone in front of which we stopped. Just a few words were engraved on the rough surface of the stone.
Charlie Swan
1964 - 2006
Chief of Police & loving father
My heart sank in the blink of an eye, suddenly looking for a hiding place.
I didn't dare to look at Bella—not yet, because seeing the solid proof of my misgivings was something I was not entirely prepared to face, so I had to actively fight back my own emotions. Even if I had had more than one year to process what could have been done to prevent the awful murder of Bella's parents, seeing the actual grave of her father hurt terribly. I didn't care that he never really liked me, nor trusted me—in fact, his instincts regarding me had always been far better than those of his daughter.
It was easy to remember how worried he got whenever she and I were together. It was almost like he, too, knew the precise danger that she was in every single time I picked her up for a date. His mundane, fatherly worries, were a given, but his instincts were much louder—so loud that they were the clearest thoughts I had ever heard coming from his side. He never knew how right he was for wanting to keep her as far away as possible from me.
Charlie Swan had been a good man, through and through, if only for how deep his love and devotion for his daughter used to run, and that was all that mattered.
"This is the place," Bella uttered, her voice almost a whisper in the silent evening.
Gathering enough courage to look at her, I got closer still and watched her kneel on the ground, placing the dahlias and poppies at the base of the gravestone. I couldn't see her face from where I was standing, but I could certainly hear the hum of her heart changing, beating louder—perhaps in distress of having to once again face the reality of her father being gone.
If only she knew…
"It's like years and years have passed," she murmured. "Time is so strange."
"It's what time does," I said in return. "It plays tricks on you like that."
"It's not fair." She sighed, as her hand stretched to touch a rhododendron bud. With curiosity getting the best of me, I kneeled by her side, so that I could see her face again. She was staring at the unbloomed flower, the slightest frown darkening her expression. "I want my memories of Charlie to be fresh. But every time I come here… it's like my brain refuses to accept that barely more than a year has passed, adding all this made-up extra time to make it seem less severe."
It hurt to hear her forlorn voice, knowing that it never would have sounded like that if I never introduced her to my world. There was hardly anything I could do to make her feel better when she was actively caressing the flowers on her father's grave, but I still tried. "Tell me your best memory of him."
She didn't have to ponder too long—almost as if she had thought about this a hundred times before. "The evening before my graduation day."
"What happened that evening?"
"You see, that's the thing. Nothing happened. I just made some enchiladas for him and my mother, as she spent the night there. And the three of us, we just… we ate and talked, nothing more. We talked until we started drifting off to sleep in between conversations, too tired to continue them. It's actually my favorite memory of both of them."
It was endearing, but also terribly heart-breaking, that her best memory of her parents was also one that was so trivial and unremarkable on the surface. Bella had never required an awful lot of extravaganza to be happy, unlike most humans. The simple things always elicited more smiles from her—that was something I learned early on about her. Even when we were together, I remembered how much brighter her eyes sparkled when we spent an evening cuddling in her bedroom, whispering and kissing until she fell into the abyss of dreams, as opposed to having a date somewhere in public. How much louder her laugh was when it was just the two of us, in our meadow, compared to the times when Alice tried to surprise her with meaningless parties.
But even with this knowledge, I longed to understand what made that memory of Charlie and Reneé so special to her. So I asked. "Why this one?"
"Because I've known my parents my entire life, and that evening was quite possibly the only time I saw them so relaxed in each other's presence. I mean, they always got along, at least to a certain extent—I know I've told you this forever ago—but there was also… a certain tension between them. Not the proverbial tension that you can cut with a knife, but definitely the kind of tension that makes your spine tingle uncomfortably. Like… you could just tell they were on the verge of breaking into a fight if they were left alone, but they were too civil to go there. I don't know, maybe that evening they acted nice for my sake, but I don't care."
I listened in silence, equal parts shocked and touched that she was willing to open her heart like that in front of me, out of all people. Hadn't I done enough to make her wary of me? Had she learned nothing? Time really was the best medicine, it seemed, at least for humans—it was the only explanation I could find for the way she wasn't afraid of inviting me into this part of her life.
This part which I had been deprived of for so long.
"It makes all the sense in the world," I offered after a while, watching as she got more comfortable on the ground. She shifted from her kneeling position so that she could sit cross-legged, facing me even better. I refused to acknowledge the strained vibration of her veins, pulsing under the paper-thin surface of her barren neck; instead, I focused on the way the mild wind was causing a few loose strands of hair to dance around her face, tickling her cheeks.
So beautiful, I thought. And getting even more so with each passing second.
But also more tempting, in more ways than my battered senses could count.
"You know, funnily enough, that evening is also my worst memory of them," Bella confessed, as more and more shadows started falling around us, the night growing restless.
"I don't understand," I admitted, confused by the uncanny ways her mind worked—surely there had to be an explanation. "How can it be both?"
She huffed as if I was missing the obvious—and for all I knew, I probably was. In my defense, I was still out of shape when it came to guessing the thoughts behind her words accurately.
Fortunately, she didn't let me wonder for too long, stopping the torture once her lips parted to talk again. "As much as I want to cherish it, to look back on it as this precious, nostalgic moment… I can't do it with a clean conscience. Because what happened the next day… the accident… it taints everything else. And it makes me wish none of it happened. If I hadn't invited Reneé to my graduation, Charlie would have never had to drive her to the airport the next day. They wouldn't have been caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. They would've still been alive, I'm sure of it. So yes, as much as I loved that evening, I would give it all up if it meant that my parents were still here."
I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. In the wake of her parents' death, Bella somehow found a way to blame herself. To see a fault in herself, even though she had never done anything wrong. While I was not entirely surprised—Bella always knew how to make herself responsible for everything—I was certainly feeling the weight of my past mistakes getting heavier and heavier. It was one thing to bear their heavy burden in solitude—because, unlike her, I was to blame, thus I deserved the suffering.
But knowing that she was bearing that burden too? Because of me, even though she didn't know it?
I couldn't allow it. I almost wanted her to know the truth. The full truth. Regardless of how much she would hate me afterwards.
"Bella, I'm sure you know this, but… what happened to your parents was not your fault."
"No, I know, but… I can't help but make connections. Like, what if my mother stayed home and missed my graduation? Or… what if she didn't and I asked her to miss Phil's game for once so that she could stay in Forks one more day? Just that one day would have saved them both."
I thought about whether there was any merit to what she was saying. Truthfully, Victoria had only acted on an impulse decision when she ran Charlie's car off the road and into the lake. However, that was not an excuse for my grave error—and it certainly didn't mean that Bella could have prevented it in any way. I should have looked beyond Alice's visions. I should have known better than to assume that Bella's parents would be off the table in Victoria's avenging plans.
I should have found a way to keep them protected too.
"You couldn't have known," I muttered under my breath, and I feared that she could sense just how on edge I felt and call me out on it.
"Sure, but it's not like that's any consolation though, is it?"
"It's not, but playing games of what if is not the best idea. Usually, at least."
"You're telling me you've never looked back on something and wondered what you could have done differently? To have things go your way?"
Only every waking moment of my life since I left you.
The thought almost slipped my mind, but I caught myself just in time.
"Of course I have," I answered. "But you know how that saying goes—do as the preacher says, not as he does."
"Now that would be one hypocritical preacher."
I chuckled, her apt joke too good to resist the impulse, and then I got courageous and looked at her again. A hint of a smile played in her eyes when she raised them towards my face, stopping once our gazes met. The warm brown abyss was as alluring as ever—but then again, so was the vibrating carotid peeking from underneath her skin. The taste of venom was painfully familiar, as it started to pool in my mouth, signaling all the possibilities that my lesser self was still considering.
Possibilities of me leaning over her, closing the distance with a kiss on the side of her neck, and asking her to obey my wishes. Then pushing her gently on the ground, under me, where she wouldn't be able to escape those wishes. Then sealing her fate with my teeth, by tasting what I wanted to taste at long last…
Bella must have sensed the rearing hunger in me, because she suddenly glanced at the flowers on the grave again, interrupting the delicious connection between us. It was enough of a distraction to allow my attention to snap back into focus and reveal the sensual images in my head for the truly appalling nightmares that they were.
I despised myself instantly for even daring to imagine such atrocities—and for how my erotic yearnings seemed to intermingle so much with my dark ones. To a certain extent, it had always been like this. Years ago, when I was getting riled up with lust, it was a given to also find myself overcome with thirst, as my body couldn't fight against either urge for too long, at least not effectively. Left to their own devices, the hungers paired and blended, joining forces, until they became almost inseparable. But as connected as they were, I still found ways to handle them—to push Bella away with gentleness when she was becoming too irresistible for her own good. But now, for one reason or another, I felt increasingly vulnerable in front of my appetite, as if it was the first time I was facing it in its full glory.
And if I were to turn back time in the state that I was in right now and find myself on her bed again… I hated to admit it, but I was certain I wouldn't be able to stop myself from fulfilling the second most dangerous fantasy in my head.
The fantasy that would surely lead to more perils.
Going all the way with Bella.
"I'm not sure if it'll go away," she said after a while, blissfully unaware of the deranged mess in my mind. "That feeling of guilt… I'm pretty certain it's there to stay."
The desperation of needing to tell her that I was to blame was pressing even harder down my shoulders. Would the consequences of telling her the complete story be too much to handle? I had already lost my chance of being together with her, so there wasn't anything meaningful left to lose.
"Bella… you don't deserve to live with any type of guilt. You shouldn't let it consume you when you never did anything wrong in the first place."
"Maybe that's just how I mourn."
"I understand, but you don't have to punish yourself for the rest of your life."
She seemed to ponder over my words for a while. When she spoke again, she sounded mildly infuriated. "You make it sound easy. I can assure you it's the opposite of that. It's not like I can wake up one day and forget that I was the one who insisted for my mother to come to my graduation."
Her voice trembled, along with her heartbeat, and I knew then that I could no longer fight the hankering to be honest with her, not when her distress tinged the air so poignantly. I could picture the pain that was sure to follow—the pain when she would finally understand her parents had been nothing but pawns in Victoria's sick games. Games I had been too weak to play properly, without causing collateral damage and hurting my only love beyond repair.
But if Bella could at least have the privilege of knowing all the details, then maybe she would allow herself to let go of the guilt she had been carrying around for the past year. She deserved it, even if the fresh knowledge would more than likely injure this strange friendship of ours. I could handle whatever would come next—it would probably still be too weak of a punishment compared to the severity of my failure.
To hell with the consequences.
"If anyone is to blame, that would be me," I managed to say.
Bella's first instinct was to roll her eyes. Then, of course, she instantly fought back—just like I subconsciously knew she would. "Look, I know you've always had a way to take the blame for everything, but… this time, it's not the case. It's… you weren't even here when it happened, Edward. It had nothing to do with you."
"That's the problem. I was here."
"No, you weren't. You couldn't have been. It was last year, it was…" She looked up, frowning, clearly trying to understand what I wasn't saying out loud. "It doesn't add up."
I hesitated, fearful about how I could possibly phrase this to make the story easier to digest. Eventually, I decided that a chronological retelling was probably the best idea. "I was on the outskirts of town on the day that you graduated."
"Oh… you were?" She seemed equal parts incredulous and confused. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely sure."
"And you were there… on purpose?"
"Very much on purpose," I professed.
"I don't understand." Her eyes were piercing in the dark, almost accusing. I tried to grasp if she had already guessed the rest of the story without me having to tell her, although it seemed quite unlikely at this point. "Why didn't you come see me then?"
That was certainly not what I was expecting to hear.
"Bella, I… I made a promise to leave you alone." It felt so strange to acknowledge that particular promise out loud, knowing that I had recently broken it to pieces. "I didn't want to break it."
Unsurprisingly, she didn't let it slide. "But… you did, right? I mean you're here now. Why not then?"
"Because now… now you're not in any danger." At least not life-threatening danger, I added to myself, never forgetting that her life was not much more substantial than that of a soap bubble—at any point, something immaterial and unstoppable could end it. From illness to bad luck, the world was not safe for her kind. It was all a continuous gamble. "Besides, this, us being here, talking… I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. I meant to stay away. What happened in the woods, when you sprained your ankle…"
"I know, I know. You were going to hunt and you heard me."
"Yes," I lied, deliberating quickly whether I sounded as nonchalant as I would have hoped before realizing that I probably didn't. "And I feared what you would think if I showed up, seeing that I had managed to keep my promise just fine until then, but I also genuinely wanted to help you once I realized you were hurt and alone."
"Still, last year… you could have stopped by."
"I wasn't even around that long. Why does it matter so much?"
Bella shook her head, closing her eyes, and something in her expression looked a lot like exasperation. "It doesn't. So what were you doing?"
There we were—back to the reality of what I was about to admit. I feared the unknown, but not more than I feared what would happen if Bella didn't stop blaming herself. "All right," I began, "let me know if it wouldn't be far off to assume that you still remember Victoria."
Whatever hint of rosiness had been in her cheeks before left all at once, almost on command. My mouth watered as I heard the song in her veins gaining momentum, the beats reflecting in the most gorgeous quiver of her throat.
"She's… impossible to forget," she replied. I heard the terror behind her words, even though she didn't make a spectacle out of it. It was there, hidden in plain sight—a testament to what I could guess had been many sleepless nights spent trying to figure out if the world she knew was ever going to feel safe again.
"Unfortunately she is," I confirmed. "And also a nightmare to track down."
"What do you mean?"
"As you probably remember, she wanted revenge, after…" I hesitated, refusing to go too in-depth with the details about the cursed night that convinced me that our incongruous nature was impossible to mend. "After that night in Phoenix." Bella nodded, but I could tell her mind was no longer here. She glanced down at her wrists, and I did the same, unable to look away once I spotted the bite mark again. The otherworldly silver hue stood out against the warm undertone of her skin.
"I do remember."
"So I had to search for her, to make sure she didn't reach you. And I thought it would be the easiest thing in the world since Alice was keeping me posted about Victoria's next steps, but… Victoria was smart. She knew she was being watched, so she stuck to making momentary decisions." It was agony to relive these truths in front of her, giving her full access to my utter lack of competency—but I knew that my agony was nothing next to hers, so I continued. "And I hate to admit it, but most times it worked."
Bella listened patiently, and I could feel her gaze burning through me. I did not dare to face her eyes directly.
"You searched for her," she murmured—so softly that I doubted if she even wanted to say it out loud.
"I had no choice," I replied, stating the obvious. "Not when I knew you were virtually unprotected."
"Is that why I never saw her again?"
"Yes," I said. "I eventually managed to make sure she would never bother you."
"How?"
I thought about it—how one night, not too long after committing the most abominable crime, with only two cities separating us, Victoria went all out with her thirst, killing an entire family of five innocents, just because she could. She took her sweet time draining them, so confident that she was out of harm's way. So confident that I would be too terrified to leave the proximity of Forks to go after her. That night, I ran faster than I ever had, determined to catch her in the midst of the feeding frenzy—the only time when her defenses were down.
And I succeeded, at long last—too late to make a difference for Bella's parents, but enough to make a difference for her.
"She became too arrogant after a while," I explained. "Too convinced that she had the upper hand."
Bella shifted slightly from her position, somehow getting closer to me. I was still too much of a coward to meet her eyes, especially when she voiced her next concerns. "But… what got her to become arrogant in the first place? And how does that have any connection to my parents?"
Still hesitating—but aware that I was on borrowed time with her—I glanced up. A part of me was convinced that she managed to put the pieces together during the last few minutes, and all that she needed was my confirmation that she had guessed right. Bella could be frighteningly smart, and I could actively see how her fast-working mind was causing her brows to furrow and bring about a delicate dimple between them. But she also had a way of seeing the best in people unless proven wrong. So, despite her logic probably ringing several alarm bells at once, I could bet she still didn't want to believe I could be to blame for what happened to Charlie and Renée.
I hated having to let her down.
I took my time telling her the entire tale of Victoria. I told her how, at some point in Victoria's evil bedlam, it stopped being about taking revenge on me and it started being about taking revenge on Bella too. Even if I made an effort to cut down on the gory details, I realized the story wasn't any less horrific—if anything, it was a downward spiral of things getting worse and worse as they progressed.
In a way, what was happening now wasn't new to either of us. We had been here before—caught in a moment, with me confessing things that were beyond detestable and Bella listening far too bravely, instead of running away. Of course, where could she run to now? With the night pressing down on our shoulders and no source of light in sight, she had no choice but to stay.
She was downright trapped, I realized with horror.
By the time I finished my story, that harrowing realization had not let up. I waited for Bella's reaction, bracing myself to accept her hate and anger, knowing that I deserved it all. But she didn't say anything. In fact, she didn't even move. She just sat there, on the ground, staring at the grave, no other sounds other than her breathing and her heart disrupting the quiet air.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," I said, aware that I was starting to sound like a broken machine. I had apologized constantly throughout my confession, but it didn't feel like enough. In all honesty, even if she had the patience to listen to my apologies all night, it still wouldn't have been enough, as there were no words to undo what was done. "I wish more than anything to turn back time and do things differently, but…" I stopped, realizing that these words weren't helping either. But my anxiety-filled brain refused to shut up, so I tried again. "If there was a way to bring them back to you, I'd give my life for it to work, I swear."
Even if I meant every word, the blow of the truth wasn't any less excruciating.
I felt powerless, as I anticipated the incoming sign that she never wanted to see my face again. But nothing happened, and it made me wonder if Bella had entered a state of shock. I was anything but competent at dealing with such a situation, so I decided to give her a way out since she seemed to be far too speechless to ask for one herself. "Listen, if you want to go home now, I can drive you back. And I promise I won't bother you again after that. Ever."
At long last, she moved again. It was more of a shudder, as her gaze drifted away from the grave and back to me. I could see that her pupils were covered in a glossy sheen now, and the sight shattered my heart.
"No," she whispered, not even blinking.
"No?"
"No, I don't want that," she clarified. "Why would I want that?"
"Well, now that you know how I…"
"Know what, Edward? It's not like you killed them."
For a brief moment, I didn't know how to react. I was convinced that she had listened to everything, but now I was debating whether she had paid attention to the parts that mattered the most. "I'm not sure you listened to everything," I murmured.
"On the contrary, I did. But if I know anything about you, then the story in your head probably sounds a whole lot different than the one you just told me." I tried to come up with something intelligent to say in return, but the logical part of my brain was malfunctioning. Bella used my rustiness as a way to further her argument. "It's not even a question if it's your fault or not, trust me."
"But it is my fault I wasn't there for them," I persisted.
"How can it be? It's not like Victoria had made some big elaborate plan that you knew about days in advance. And—no, actually, sorry, even if she did make some elaborate plan, you didn't owe it to me to do anything at all. Victoria was my problem, not yours."
"Your problem?" I shook my head, shocked by the unforeseen change in direction that our conversation was taking. Where the hell was the anger? The hate? "Bella, you never would have been on her radar if it weren't for me."
"With my luck, you really can't know that for sure."
That was a reasonable argument, but the rest of her point still made no sense—not to mention I was still at a loss when it came to the lack of rage directed at me. "You couldn't have stopped her if she came for you. You do realize this, right?"
"I know. But at least if she came for me to get it over with, then she wouldn't have had any reasons to go after my parents."
It was chilling to the bone to hear such an affirmation coming from her—although I really shouldn't have been surprised, seeing that there had been a point in her life when she was more than ready to die for her mother if it came to it. Perhaps it wasn't the thought itself that froze me in place, as much as it was the ease with which she voiced it, as if her own life didn't even matter in the grand scheme of things.
I refused to believe that to this day, she still couldn't comprehend just how important she was or how precious her life was. It didn't make sense, considering her new partner. Jacob never had to push her away the way that I had, allowing the right kind of love to bloom in her heart. The kind of love that didn't leave room for uncertainty or fear. For that reason alone, I expected Bella to understand her own worth at the very least.
But something in my reasoning must have been flawed, because all of a sudden, Bella's eyes no longer glistened, they flooded. Tears started flowing in streams—hot, unstoppable streams, that imbued the air with the wretched scent of salt and disappointment—and I felt utterly lost.
My hands reached forward for the shortest moment before I realized I couldn't do anything with them—no touching, no comforting, nothing. They retreated in defeat, at their own volition. My panic, however, only skyrocketed.
"Bella…" She turned her face away completely, as if she had just remembered she was not alone. I tried to let my words do the touching that my hands weren't allowed to. "Bella, I'm so sorry… so sorry I didn't save them."
"It's not that," she sobbed, suddenly preoccupied with playing with the ring on her finger.
"You can tell me."
Silence descended upon us, dragging its weight all over my consolation attempt—and my unconvincing plea. As much as I wanted her to bare her soul in front of me, I had to give myself a mental nudge, to remember why expecting such things from her was not acceptable.
With gritted teeth, I waited for her decision.
It took a while. Between stroking her ring and hiding her crying face, I could guess that Bella's resolution was hardly simple. Because sure, if I was a regular friend, it might have been easier for her to get it over with and just speak. But I knew, deep down, that the tonnage of our history—specifically how I abandoned her without too many explanations—disqualified me from being considered a good friend.
I was an untrustworthy acquaintance at best.
"I think…" Bella started but stopped immediately. I held my breath—half because the suspense was eating me alive, half because it was getting progressively harder to ignore the way she made my body ache with impossible cravings. "I think I spent so much time with a certain scenario in my head, that I feel stupid for not doubting it sooner."
"You're not stupid, you had no way of knowing what happened."
"But I should have known!" Her voice raised a little, taking me back to all the times when she was so mad at herself that her temper got out of control. Back then, I found it enchanting—now it only made me sad. "I should have at least considered it, since I never got to see Victoria again. The rest of my theories made no sense anyway."
My nosiness reared its head again. "What theories?"
Her answer came quickly this time around, just like I had hoped. "At one point, I thought that she simply got bored. Or that I was no longer a priority on her list. Or… that something happened to her—you know, wrong place, wrong time, and all that; that she crossed paths with someone she shouldn't have. Someone, but not… well, not you."
The fact that she considered my intervention so surprising would have hurt my ego if I didn't know that it came from a place full of insecurities and self-doubt.
"Bella, tell me you didn't honestly believe I would leave you at a psychopath's mercy."
"I… did," she mumbled, sounding as unconvincing as ever. I sighed, and she changed her answer immediately. "I didn't?" Even if I tried to suppress my reaction this time, it didn't matter. She could read me too easily. "What do you want me to say, Edward? I honestly don't know. You did say it would be like you never existed. I assumed you meant it fully. Although… you clearly didn't, since you are here now."
She was still hiding, so I couldn't be sure of the actual sentiment behind her last words. Maybe she was accusing me of not staying away like I had promised. Or maybe she was way past the point of accepting the fact that I had been unable to keep my promise.
Relinquished, I decided to go with the truth again—as it turned out, tonight was a good night for truths. "I meant it at the time."
"And I believe you. But maybe this is not so bad, right? Maybe… maybe this—us being friends—can be a good thing."
"Do you think so?"
"I feel so. Don't you?"
I didn't have a good answer to her question. "To be fair, I'm not sure. I was so certain you wouldn't want to hear from me—first when I came to you in the woods that day, and then a few minutes ago, after what I've just told you. So I am still processing the very idea of friendship—specifically why you would even consider it, knowing everything that you know about me."
"You're overthinking this too much. Some things… you just need to let them be."
Then, for the first time in what felt like a long while, she turned to look at me again. The dried tears were the first thing I noticed—the delicate trails left by her weeping were still there, I could tell, but they were almost invisible now, their outline getting lost in the rose pigment of her cheeks.
Bella's slight smile was the second sight that got my attention. So small it was almost negligible, but to me, it was everything, as it allowed me to hope. To really hope that being her friend was not the most outrageous thing in the world.
"I'm sorry I made you cry earlier," I blurted out, bewitched by the contrast between her smile and her still-glimmering eyes.
"You have nothing to apologize for," she assured me. "Actually, for the longest time, Jake tried to get me to laugh whenever we came here. Not in a weird way or anything, he was just… I don't know, he liked to make a fool of himself and crack all sorts of jokes, if only to make me smile and get my mind off things." The picture she was painting was perfectly clear. I could see them here, right by this very grave, sharing relieved laughs instead of tears. And I could imagine him protecting her from the dark twists of her unfortunate life with his arms. With his exasperatingly lucky lips. I envied the simple serenity of that picture. And I envied him, for being able to offer her what I couldn't. "It was just his way of helping me cope, I guess," Bella continued, her voice more mellow with each new syllable. "But I needed this. I needed a good cry, so thank you."
Her comforting smile was probably her way of convincing me that she meant what she had just said, but it only made me more confused. I couldn't fully comprehend how crying could ever be considered a good thing—good enough to thank someone for driving you into such a trap, albeit accidentally.
As I kept searching for a hidden meaning, Bella reminded me that, at the end of the day, she was only human. This time, it wasn't her scent that prompted the reality check—no, that was one continuous, inescapable, delirious hellscape that never ceased to exist; at best, it quietened long enough to allow me to concentrate on the rest of her—but something simpler. A yawn. Soft, silent, and precious, it was precisely the cue I needed.
"Do you want to go?" I asked. "Catch up on your sleep?"
"Oh, sleeping is a lost battle for me. I never get to rest."
"Why?"
Her shoulders moved up and down, matter-of-factly. "I think I have too many thoughts at night."
"Hmmm, so many thoughts and I don't get to hear a single one," I teased.
"Trust me, it's for the best that you don't."
I laughed, even if I didn't agree with her, and stood up at long last. Bella followed my lead, her legs looking a little wobbly as she did. My body tensed as I realized that her loose-fitting T-shirt had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the black strap of her bra. An incongruence of feelings bubbled up in my core: the need to peel that strap off, to reveal her shoulder, was as strong as the need to plunge my teeth into the newly-revealed artery. I wondered if my inebriated state was as obvious to her as it was to me.
At least it was too dark for her senses to observe the throbbing erection wreaking havoc in my jeans if she happened to glance down.
Not that she would glance down to check, of course.
"Can I ask you something?" Bella said, clearly unbothered by my silent insanity.
"Anything."
"All right, so after tonight, I'll… I'll be in my head way too much. I'm usually like this when I visit this place, but now more than usual, considering our discussion. The thing is, I could really use some company until Jake returns tomorrow, because I feel like I will go crazy if I am left alone now." She ran out of air and stopped, but started again before I could even make sense of what she was asking. "Would it be awful if I asked you to come over and hang out until I fall asleep? Please?"
That question alone must have taken a lot of courage to voice out loud, judging by how fast her heart was beating. She was handing me yet another olive branch—a chance to be something better for her than what I used to be. And I was just like a starved animal that couldn't—and didn't want to—say no. Every single chance she was feeding me, I was more than willing to gobble it down and secretly pine for more.
Perhaps I was getting high on the possibility that these chances were a gift that would just keep on giving. The more time we spent together, the more obvious it became that, on an emotional level, we clicked. We understood one another. We enjoyed spending time together. This aspect was hardly news to me, but at least now I got to appreciate it in a new way, since there was no hope in sight to surrender to my lust.
As it turned out, being Bella's friend was nothing short of a blessing.
"Nothing awful about it, I'll keep you company if it means you get to rest tonight," I answered in the end.
When she thanked me with that bashful smile of hers I loved so much, my cock strained further against the fabric of my jeans, clearly not at peace with the rest of my resolve.
No doubt about it, my spot in hell was warm and ready for me.
Quite an evening of confessions, huh? And it's still not finished...
Do you think actual friendship is possible for these two?
I can't wait to read and respond to your reviews :)!
Before I go, one important note: the month of June is quite a busy time for me, as my wonderful man's birthday is coming up. This celebration, coupled with another prior engagement, means that I will spend two weekends away from my laptop. So just as a disclaimer, there will be no updates coming on June 2nd and June 23rd.
Now, before you throw your tomatoes at me, I've also got a piece of good news! To make up for the delay in posting, I have prepared a super-duper special surprise for you regarding this story :). So if you'd like to see it when I post it next week—along with all the teasers for future chapters—make sure to join my Facebook group, "Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner".
See you soon with a new chapter! Until then, stay safe and happy!