*DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to the Twilight Saga and it's characters. This is purely artistic fiction drawn in inspiration from Stephanie Meyers words.

*Trigger warning: brief mention of suicide/extreme weight loss. Please take care of your mental health! : )

The murky abyss churned, tide swallowing me whole; ever shifting, listless tapestry of shimmering green and blue jewel tones. With each passing second, I descended deeper, the darkness enveloping me in its familiar embrace. There was a strange comfort in accepting my fate, in becoming an anchor lost within the depths, released from the weight of existence, no longer dragging others down.

I was at peace with death, it was tranquil, uncomplicated, cathartic even.

As the minutes slipped away, blending into an indistinguishable blur, time became a hazy concept, distorted and elusive. What little time left on my non-corporeal clock was evaporating, much like all the air from my lungs. The broken minute hand twirled aimlessly while the hour hand raced, the sound of its frantic ticking easily omitted. On the quiet tides, ever-present time loses its power, and the world above fades into insignificance.

Yet, amidst the isolation, his presence remained my solace. His incandescent form, a beacon of frozen beauty, drifted beside me. The pallor of his alabaster face, now a mere ghost in the shadows, held a haunting allure. In this penultimate moment, his touch was a fleeting caress, his skin a perfect canvas of iridescence. He was here with me, at the end of it all, my ethereal Adonis, my Romeo.

No one would mourn my absence, for I was already fading into the forgotten corners of their memories. I held onto his hand, our fingers intertwined, a fragile connection in the face of oblivion. One last touch, a last whisper of affection before succumbing to the deep.

All sight, sound, and life disappeared, swallowed by the glassy void. It's icy hold offered no trepidation, no hesitation, only a serene acceptance of the endless. The silence was deafening, only interrupted by the faint echoes of distant currents. The weight of the water continued to push against my body, a heavy shroud that silenced any lingering doubts. And so I sank, surrendering myself to the stillness that transcended the emptiness of life above.

This was it—my end. I was ready. No more pain.

As my eyes closed for the last time, without warning, I felt myself being lifted by an unseen force. A dark figure held me, ascending like a bullet through the hazy water. We breached the surface; the roar of the ocean assaulted my eardrums, salty waves lapping my raw, frozen skin. Between the rhythmic sloshing of water and the incessant cawing of seagulls, my dead weight plopped onto the shore. Pebbles and other small rocks dug into the thin material of my soaked long-sleeve shirt, cutting into my back and upper arms.

I struggled to understand a muffled baritone voice, low and fraught with panic. It was calling my name, begging, crying for me.

Who was speaking?

Jagged pieces of a recent memory bobbed to the surface of my mind. The viridian escarpment overhanging First Beach, treading wave after tumultuous wave, succumbing to the dark, frigid depths... Where was I? How did I get here? The realization was slowly starting to sink in. I must've gotten knocked unconscious by the waves, and someone dragged me onto the shore.

A foreign pressure bared down on my chest, my lungs crushed under its weight. I was in so much pain, but couldn't scream. Air. I needed air. I needed to breathe. My insides were burning, a fullness, all encompassing flames I couldn't escape, melding into the force that indiscriminately bruised my ribs. The blunt pressure happened again. My hands formed into tight fists. Gritty, wet sand stuck to my fingertips, bunching under my nails. Too much.

With what little energy I had, I bolted upright, leaning on my elbows for support. I purged the vile contents of my stomach, my lungs—all of it. I managed a prolonged, shaky breath, remembering how to live one huff at a time. It felt like a thousand tiny shards of glass coated my throat. Each inhale and exhale were labored, burning; the steady trickle of seawater that continued to ooze from my mouth stopped. As I regained full consciousness, adrenaline flooded my veins, causing my heart to race at full speed, pounding under the paper-thin layer of my lavender tinged skin.

The distraught voice sounded again, clearer this time. I collapsed onto my back, exhausted.

"Bella?!" The sound blended into the monotonous drone of the shoreline. "Breathe, honey. Focus on breathing."

Jacob.

I cracked open my tired, burning eyes to the bleak, cloud laden sky, then all I could see was him. His long raven hair molded to the contours of his face, thick wefts creating an unintentional privacy curtain around us. His hulking six-foot, seven-inch frame dwarfed mine.

Jake saved me. He must have.

I replayed the dive off the cliff face in my mind. Crimson eyes fixated on me, while fiery tresses danced under the water's tension; the reason I had drowned. Something in the water, a figure snaking beneath the surface. Victoria!

My blood froze inside my veins. I needed to focus.

From an outside view, it might have seemed like I had tried to kill myself. I knew Jake wouldn't accept that fact. In reality, I jumped for a falsehood, a hallucination, nothing more than a distant memory. Him reviving my lifeless body was a reminder of the grim truth: I'd spent the last few months craving this sad, augmented reality where if I did dangerous things, I could see Edward again. Some twisted, ghostly version of him, a minute sliver of 'heaven', a delusion.

My decision was reckless, but I hadn't cared. It was still my choice. While I could understand his obvious concern, I couldn't let him know why I'd jumped. Jacob would view it as the ultimate betrayal. As I lay there motionless, I scrambled to defend my selfish reasoning. The long list of negatives outweighed the positives, and my previous concrete resolution disintegrated into fine dust inside me.

Lie.

"I—I'm fine, Jake. I was cliff diving," I mumbled, attempting to soothe him and myself.

"Alone? From that high up? You could've died!" he chided, "why didn't you wait for me?"

Deflect.

"I'm sorry I worried you. I didn't know the waves would be so high today. I thought I could handle it." A useless, hollow apology. I wasn't sorry. I redirected my eyes, avoiding Jacob's austere gaze.

"We were supposed to go together, Bells. You damn near almost drowned." The urgency of his voice drew a chill up my spine, and his words were like salt on an open wound.

Jake's lips were bent into a stark frown, umber eyes hewn with emotion, brow furrowed. I didn't know whether tears or residual water clung to his long, spidery lashes. The pit in my stomach told me the former.

This was my breaking point. The final proverbial nail in my coffin.

Before I jumped, I lied to myself, that I needed Edward still, endangering myself to hear his angelic voice. Maybe... for the very last time. Then maybe, I could be at peace, and let go. To relinquish the fragmented parts of my soul wishing for him to sweep me off my feet in a dashing return to Forks. The pain of his absence was too great to bare.

He did not rescue me.

Edward was never coming back.

I was starting to understand now; any hopes of my life with him and his family were lost among the depths, just as I almost was. It was ironic. I was painfully apathetic towards the bald faced truth of the matter.

I had almost died. Again.

As if on cue, Jake's warm breath washed over my cheek, his hot touch scorching my damp skin. The muscles in his arms were wound too tight, causing him to tremble lightly as he gently cradled my shivering body. I focused on a spot of gravel just out of view from his dark eyes. If I looked into them now, I might have broken down and cried. I swallowed any lingering regret along with the lump in my throat.

We had already gone through enough without me adding fuel to the metaphorical fire. A few weeks ago, Jake found out second-hand that I didn't just know about the local vampire coven, but adored them and brazenly kept their dark secret locked away like some crazed fan-girl. And that's all the behavior was, an obsession really.

At the time, I was shocked at his vile treatment toward the Cullen's. They never hurt anyone, they only hunted animals to eat. Why was that so bad? What did he have against vampires? I didn't understand then, but his transformation, and the transformations of the entire pack, were specifically caused by their presence. His life had permanently changed, been uprooted, destroyed and reformed, all because of the Cullen's nearby proximity. His choice had been taken from him.

To protect us, and Sam not knowing I already knew about vampires, we were forced to be separated. That didn't last long though. Once we figured out a way around pack orders, it made some things easier, but others a lot harder at the same time.

He didn't see me the same way, and probably never would again. Not without giving me grief over the fact I harbored feelings for a vampire. He hated that I had wanted to give up my human life to be one of them, content with the idea of an eternity with his immortal adversaries. That I'd willingly thrown caution to the wind, as if nothing was wrong with my decision. He wouldn't let that go.

I see now that he was right.

The start of tears clung to my waterline, and I shut my eyes in retaliation. No. I wouldn't allow my emotions to get the better of me. I was overwhelmed. The fleeting, numbing effects of the adrenaline had worn off. It was difficult to organize all of my scattered thoughts.

Now, at the very least, Jake was back in my life. At a steep price.

He continued, cutting through the silence, "it's okay, you're alright now. That's all I care about." His voice was calmer, the initial edge had lessened. Jake sighed into my neck and pulled me closer against him, tucking me in the muscular cage of his arms.

We were interrupted. Jake's eyes darted upward, and he squared his shoulders with the crooked row of cedar and pines. Someone approached from the forest; I wasn't sure who. My eyes were still irritated from prolonged exposure to the ocean. I squinted at the blur of movement, a few blinks helping to refocus my glassy vision.

Sam Uley was crossing the beach in a brisk jog. He stopped a few feet from where we were laying on the sand, his range of motion cut short. The sound of his robust voice was absorbed by the stone walls of the marine alcove behind us.

"Get her home and give her dry clothes, Jacob. I'm going over to Harry's place to help!"

Without warning, Sam exploded into a large blur of black fur, turning direction and vanishing along the expanse of evergreens. The wolf's swiftness left only upturned grass tufts behind. His smooth voice lingered in my mind long after he had gone.

I still hadn't gotten used to the existence of giant wolves, or as select members of the tribe called them, shapeshifters. I might never get used to it. My mind still couldn't comprehend that all the childhood legends were true. Vampires were one thing, but giant wolves too? Would the invisible man be making his debut in my life next?

"What happened with Harry?" I wondered aloud. I searched Jacob's face for a meaning to Sam's statement.

"Harry had a heart attack, Bells," Jake whispered, stone faced.

"Will Harry be alright?" I said. My words tumbled out of my mouth, uneloquently falling on top of each other.

I remained silent as I processed, my eyes creaking shut. My mind churned and sifted. As the cogs began turning, the news wasn't quite earth shattering, but I could feel my heart sink further into my stomach like a lead weight. Something told me Harry didn't survive. Jacob's silence confirmed my precognition. My anxiety forced my thoughts into overdrive. Victoria.

I shuddered, sitting up in disbelief. What if she was involved somehow? Even in my memories of the barren field the Cullen's used for baseball, her sharp features displayed a wry, inhuman smirk. Almost as terrifying and twisted as James's face in the reflection of the mirrors in the ballet studio.

"I'm sorry Bells, he didn't make it." Jake's voice was hoarse, brittle, like he might break from too much strain. "Don't worry though, Sam's going to take care of things with my dad. Let's focus on getting you home so you can dry off and get warm."

He comforted me even though he was still in mourning. Jumping off a cliff had never come at a worse time...

I swallowed, hesitantly nodding my head in agreement. He hooked his right arm under my knees and then its twin under the middle of my back, lifting me into the air. I rested my head to the hollow of his bare collarbone, reveling in the warmth of skin to skin contact. The wind stabbed into my body without discretion. My wet skin was frozen from exposure to the elements.

Jake's fiery, encompassing warmth helped shield me against the inevitable blanket of rain. It was never nice in Forks. Not even now, during spring, when nature was awakening from its winter slumber.

He traversed the gravel and sand until he reached the edge of the beach. Once on solid ground, he sprinted towards my truck at a frightening pace. My old Chevy was much lower down in altitude, but with his speed and otherworldly strength, it wouldn't take long. Although Jake was careful, neither of us worried about him hurting me despite his 'condition'.

The changes between my Jacob and his wolfy counterpart were inconstant. To my displeasure, he had morphed so quickly. It hadn't given me enough time to comprehend his absence and then breakneck reappearance in my life. He didn't look like my Jacob at all anymore, save for his eyes, smile, and hair.

I hated his short leash. He was always leaving me for Sam's every beck and call, but I couldn't be too upset at that. The entire pack was working around the clock to keep Victoria away. To keep me alive... My life. Something I had just tried and failed to throw away. I just wished I could spend more time with him. I needed him more than ever now.

Mere minutes elapsed; the red-orange paint of my monster of a truck came into view. The hike from the beach would have taken me at least an hour on my own, longer because of my clumsiness. In fact, it had taken me close to two hours to hike the heavily wooded path up to the cliff.

I clung to Jacob with impatience as he roared the Chevy to life. The heat blasted out of the creaky vents was followed by a few mechanical chugs of the engine. Clearly, even though it was mostly a rebuild, a product of its age. As we drove the winding road, time progressed unnaturally, and quiet rain spattered the windshield.

The amount of salt water I drank made me nauseous, despite throwing most of it up. The feeling strengthened with each bump and crater in the road, the remaining liquid in my stomach sloshed unevenly with each movement. What little I had inhaled from drowning still caused my lungs to rattle every time I took a breath. It would be like that for a few hours. I'd be lucky if I didn't catch pneumonia.

My obsessive, anxiety-ridden thoughts didn't help. The jump, Victoria, and Harry's untimely death. I wanted to be sick. I worried for Charlie and how he was dealing with this new loss as well. I knew he didn't have many friends left, it was too close to Waylon's death. The repetitive tapping of individual water droplets of rain against the windshield helped distract me.

As we pulled up the windy, dirt driveway, I was disappointed to see Jake hadn't taken me home. We were just outside the Black residence. Billy obviously wasn't home, so the house was an empty void. The somber feeling that lurked in the air was ostensible. A heavy layer of dread bled into the back of my mind, causing my stomach to delve further into intricate knots.

Jacob opened my car door and subsequently towed me back to reality. Despite my best protest, he helped me into the house, setting me down inside his room. I didn't like being picked up. It reminded me of how fragile my humanity was. The telltale sound of a glass table shattering rung in my ears, reminding me all too well of just how easy it was to 'move' me.

"We could have gone back to my house for clothes, you know. It's not that far. Also, for your information, I am capable of walking," I grumbled.

"Yeah, I know, I just didn't want to risk you getting hypothermia or pneumonia. It was closer. Your face is damn near purple, Bells." He shrugged, his voice softened.

"Oh. Yeah. That wouldn't have helped anyone," I said. "Can you give me a minute? I'll get changed."

Jake was right; the very last thing my dad needed was another trip to the hospital to see his danger-prone freak of a daughter. Not right after one of his best friend's death's. Jake nodded curtly and rummaged through his closet. He hastily grabbed a fist worth of clothes and handed them to me before turning on his heel in one swift motion. The door clicked shut behind him and the old house groaned with the weight of his heavy footsteps.

I tried to re-calibrate myself mentally, emotionally, and last but not least, physically. His baritone voice wormed through the empty space between the bottom of the door and carpet. I suspected he was talking to his dad over the phone, and then maybe one of the pack. I wasted no more time eavesdropping and peeled the semi-vacuum-sealed layer of sopping wet clothes off. They plopped onto the ground in a messy pile, and I was happy to be rid of them.

I glimpsed my alabaster skin in the reflection of the full-length mirror hanging from Jacob's closet door. I blanched, wanting to shrink away from it. I was much paler than usual. My color was a palette of muted lavender and patchy pink from the rain and freezing water combination. I had felt cold for so long that I hadn't noticed the seemingly permanent goose bumps that had cropped up all over my body.

In the mirror's reflection, my small form was all legs and messy, slicked back, long, wefts of dark hair. The bones of my ribs protruded a little more than I had previously remembered. Everything was sharper, more defined than before. My elbows, knees, and shoulders were so angular. Two plum half circles boldly stood out from under my eyes on the curve of my pale cheeks. I felt empty inside and out. Had I lost that much weight? Who was that girl in the mirror? It didn't look like me at all.

It had been a really, really, long time since I had even looked in the same direction as a mirror. Months, actually. Most mornings I brushed my teeth, smoothed my hair, and pulled on clothes. Any clothes available. Admittedly, some days I only swished with a bit of mouthwash, vigorously ignoring any changes, refusing to see how depressed I really was. I hardly ate, barely slept and existed as an empty shell. A shadow of who I once was. Every single day was another number on the calendar and in the grand scheme of my life.

The heat of the house helped thaw my achy bones, I dressed quickly. I shuffled the soft, worn-down material of Jacob's gifted shirt over my torso. I managed an awkward shrug and shoved the rest down with difficulty. My atrophied muscles resisted any movement. I had forgotten about my landing against the water after the jump. It wasn't exactly the most graceful thing in the world, and I could feel the soreness growing under my skin. I would have a bruise over most of my stomach and thighs.

His shirt was excessively baggy on me. The material was so long that it fit me the same way a dress would. The fabric tickled my legs, as it was moderately frayed on the bottom. I smiled, noting the coloring was a shade of dark grey instead of black. The result of being extremely sun faded. Truth be told, I appreciated the length and size difference. I didn't like to wear tight fitting clothing. The bottoms he gave me were typical blue and green, plaid pajama pants, super soft and even cozier than first anticipated. Dry clothes were very appreciated.

A comforting musky scent wafted into my nose after I adjusted the borrowed shirt collar to be less revealing. I detected hints of dark cedar, a smoky wood stove in winter, the ocean, and petrichor. It was a combination of Billy's house on the reservation and Jacob's personal scent. The more I breathed his smell in, it enveloped my mind in its inviting, earthy essence. A part of me wanted to experience learning how much stronger the smell was the closer I got to him. I had taken earlier on the beach for granted.

Jake gave a gentle knock on the door's wood frame. The echo cut through the quiet emptiness of the room and startled me from my internal monologue. I had gotten caught up in my thoughts again and lost track of everything else. I did that a lot.

"Hey... are you decent?" he asked, voice muffled from behind the closed door.

"Y-Yeah. I'm good," I replied frankly, and the door creaked open. My arms folded over my chest. I didn't know what to do with my hands.

"Okay, good. Let's get you home then. Charlie, my dad, and Sam have everything taken care of at the Clearwater's, and the rest of the pack is hunting what's-her-face until dawn. I'll watch over you tonight."

"Home. That sounds nice. I could use a cup of warm coffee."

I curiously observed my absurd nostalgia for a drink I wasn't fond of. It originated from Renee and her late-night caffeine binges to complete another random project. That or struggling with the task of driving across state lines. We moved so much when I was a child. Why did I want coffee? I often preferred tea.

"Coffee does sound pretty good right now, but don't you usually drink tea?" Jacob flashed a toothy smirk, laughing as he backed into the door frame on accident.

"Mmhm, I do," I liked he knew that.

His expression formed into a puzzled one, and he was reminiscent for a moment. "I need to change. I knew I forgot something. Can't be running around in just shorts right now, even though it's so much more convenient."

"I'll go wait by the door. It's a miracle you even have clothes with shredding them when you phase. That and your insane growth spurt, you absolute giant," I openly tossed my head back with a deep laugh.

He chuckled and shook his head. Jacob was still in the same shorts he wore earlier after saving me, they weren't even remotely damp. I stole a glance of his bare chest and fought back a wave of blush. Another piece of weird information I'd learned about werewolves was that they ran several degrees warmer than normal humans. He was hot—literally. I didn't know how much more, but it was obvious in any capacity.

I closed the door to his bedroom behind me just as he had done to give him privacy and wandered into the kitchen. I traced my fingers along the corner of a picture on the cork board by the countertop. My index finger hovered over an old Polaroid of a young Jake, his sisters', and Billy. A relaxed smile painted my lips, the blood was starting to come back to my face. Memories of my summers spent in Forks growing up played idly in my subconscious.

I heard him rustling around his room, the shuffling of uneasy footsteps and a loud thud followed by a short groan. I let out a chortle, imagining him fighting with his too small clothes. Jake had grown over a foot in less than six months' time and put on maybe fifty pounds of solid muscle in the last year alone. The physical changes had to have been hard for him, and I know Billy complained to Charlie every time he came over. Both about food and the cost of clothes that would only fit, if they were lucky, a few weeks at most.

Jacob came bounding out of his room and almost tripped over the couch. It was pleasant to see not a lot had changed aside from physical attributes. He might not look like my Jacob, but he was in there under the body-builder physique and mature jawline. When he smiled, I could still see the happy-go-lucky gleam reflect in his eyes. The light of youth, hopeful and relaxed. It returned, almost only when he was close to me. He had literally grown into an adult before my very eyes, but he was still the same goofy, clumsy, teenage boy I loved. My best friend. He was and would always be my favorite person.

He was dressed in a typical outfit I'd often seen him in. A pair of worn-down jeans with holes in the knees and a black tee that was a size or two too small—similar to the one he had given to me. Quick, easy, and plain. He didn't have a flare for fashion, unlike the Cullen's. I was grateful for that. We were very alike in that sense. I hated dressing up and had no interest in keeping up with trends, neither did he. I could still see his lean, corded physique under the material of the shirt. The clothing was plastered to his thin, overly muscular frame.

He had drawn his once damp hair up into a low bun, probably trying to keep it out of the way and dry. I was always envious of Jake's long, beautiful raven-hued hair. It was well past the middle of his back now. I wondered if he would consider letting me braid it when we met as children, but I never built up the courage to ask. I know now it might be inconsiderate to his beliefs. So, I wouldn't dare. I respect him and his culture—shifter and all. I thought the wolves were too dangerous at first, I view them more like protectors now.

He put the palm of his right hand against the hollow of my neck and collarbone. His fingers gently squeezing the softness of my still cold flesh. I craved his touch and wished it lasted longer.

"Earth to Bella. Hey. Question. Do you want me to grab your shoes or just carry you to the truck? Either or is fine with me." He shrugged, massaging the spot between my neck and shoulder. I had nearly forgotten he asked a question at all.

"I mean, whatever is easiest? I can just walk to the truck, it's not that far. Just a few steps away. I do have legs, even if they don't work right all the time." I smiled, giving a complacent shrug back.

His ease melted my tension. I leaned into his hand without a second thought. Fluttering grew inside my stomach; I disregarded the traitorous and familiar feeling of butterflies. I had left extra shoes and socks in the truck as a backup for the change from winter to spring. My other ones I wore were sopping wet still.

"Okay, just thought I'd ask. You've got to be exhausted after what you call 'swimming'," he responded carefree.

"Hey, no need to add insult to injury. I taught myself at the YMCA back in Phoenix. I might not be the next gold medalist Jake, but it works for me." I couldn't help my sarcastic response.

His face scrunched up. I knew the real reason he asked about my shoes. Anything to have an excuse to hold me. He craved being this close. I was beginning to understand this new feeling blossoming inside me. I didn't know yet if I wanted to let it grow or to stamp it out.

We walked towards the truck arm in arm, I gave him a tiny shove and turned to hop inside. He handed a black, worn-down leather jacket to me to help keep me insulated. The truck rumbled down the stretch of bumpy asphalt. The steady pace was accepted compared to the last few tumultuous hours. My joints locked up in objection to each residual crater in the road. I rubbed my hands against my arms, which didn't help in the slightest. I longed to lounge in front of the heat register like a lazy house cat.

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