"Trying to appear like I've got it together, I'm falling apart. Save me, somebody take my hand and lead me…"
Song: Slow Me Down by Emmy Rossum
The nightmares were getting more persistent everyday, not just of Edward leaving, that dream itself was intensified by his absence—he was off hunting with Emmet—but of Jacob and the pack—hurt, dying. The image of him lying so still and weak from his wounds, recovering from his broken bones, pale and so very unlike the Jacob that I knew, the image of him staring at me with an unreadable look in his eyes as I closed the door to his room seemed to burn into my brain.
I haven't heard anything from him for a while. No one has heard from him in a while.
The wedding was coming closer and Jacob was no where to be found. I haven't quite decided on which problem was the reason for my sleepless state. A sliver of pale light streamed down to reflect on my bracelet and the decision was made for me; Jacob.
I don't understand. He was…okay, when I left him, wasn't he?
He looked OK, he even mentioned the wedding. He accepted it.
He even accepted my change.
So what happen?
Why did he—although the word was a bit childish—runaway?
What triggered the sudden extreme reaction?
I could only imagine the pain that he felt, it must be totally overwhelming for him to just disappear, to leave Billy, to leave the pack. The only solace that I felt came from the fact that neither Billy nor the pack looked worried.
They must know that he's all right, or so I tell myself every time an hour passed.
If he'd just talked to me, that train of thought stumbled into nothingness. Maybe, it's better for him to get away…
That well-meaning thought also ended halfway, I want to see him, touch him, make sure he is all right and the restlessness that I felt somehow mutated into an obsessive compulsion to check the hour, to peer through the trees, to jump at the sound of motorcycles.
I made a pest of myself to Billy that he rarely pick up the phone anymore, the pack wouldn't give me any kind of information, merely assuring me that Jacob can take care of himself. I was sure that Edward noticed how insane I was turning and that didn't make my mood any better.
I realized that I was spiraling into some kind of neurosis and the cure was somewhere...out there in the guise of dark eyes and bright smiles.
"Oh, Jacob." I muttered into the darkness, trying to keep myself from pulling my hair out in worry.
I wasn't completely sure what it was that made me lift my head at that precise second—maybe it was the moving shadows across the walls, maybe it was the whisper of leaves against the window--and saw someone turning away outside my window.
I should be worried, I should scream but instead I rushed towards the window, my heart trying to claw itself out of my chest with nervous fingers, somehow already recognizing who it was. "Jacob!"
He was already on the ground and I wasn't caring at all about waking the neighbors. "JACOB! Wait. Please."
He didn't even hesitate but ran across the shadows with strong, soundless steps.
My heart pushed and tore itself out, choking my throat, my tears streamed uncontrollable over my face--I must look like a mad woman--leaning out half my body out of the window, screaming out a name of a person that couldn't possibly be there.
"Jacob. Please. Don't leave." I sobbed out, reaching both my hands out as if I could tangle them around him. It was stupid but I was desperate, it was impossible for me to let go of him when he was so near. I reached blindly for a branch, uncaring if it can hold my weight or not, I was only focused on him. I could only see his back, moving away from me and it was more than the small part of my heart that will always belong to Jacob could handle, so it reached out my hands and made me straddle the window ledge.
With as much thought as I once spared when I once jumped off a cliff, I launched myself of the window ledge.
"Bella," The horror and anger in his voice didn't make it sound any less beautiful to me, and the strong, warmth—he was so warm—of his arms that caught me were once again home. "What the hell were you thinking?"
I didn't answer, I couldn't answer as the only thing that I could think of was 'he's here', 'he came back', 'he's with me again', so I wrapped my hands, my legs around him and clung to him like a lost child. The relief of his return, the sudden disappearance of worry, thoughts of 'what if' didn't ease away by his presence, it only seemed to strengthen my chaotic emotions and I burrowed into his body as if I would never leave.
He pulled away at my touch like it was something unfamiliar, something unwelcome. "Let go, Bella."
I clung even tighter, mumbling into the shoulder. "No. Nononononononono."
"Let go." Although knowing it was a losing battle, I clutched at his neck, he pulled away from my grip easily but I held his hand in a death grip with both of my hands, staring hungrily at his face. His expression was smooth, detached, if I didn't know better, I would've thought that we only passed each other at some street perfectly by chance. But we didn't, he was here, in my front lawn, which meant that he wanted to see me....right?
I looked him up and down, he didn't look hungry but he was thinner or was that because of the dim light and the play of shadows? He was half naked again—of course—and only wore black jeans cut offs that looked comfortable but not even close to warm. There were some scratches on his upper arms, his hands, but other than that, other than the messed up state of his hair, he looked fine much to my relief.
"You've come back."
He winced at the sound of my voice and his dark eyes were noticeably not looking my way at all. He tried to wrench away his hand, twisting his fingers inside mine but I held fast. "Bella, let go."
"No." I gripped harder, tighter with all my might, I knew I was hurting myself rather than him, but that was justice somehow. He glanced at our joined hands, probably noted that the tip of my fingers were white and that the only way he would be free was if he was ready to break my fingers.
But that didn't stop him from trying.
I stifled a broken breath when he suddenly pulled his hand but stopped when he only managed to pull me along with it. I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten and I realized how pathetic, how cruel, how shameless I was being but I didn't care.
He was here and that was the only thing that matter.
His dark eyes shifted to me then glanced away again. "You're shivering. Go back inside."
I nodded jerkily, eager to agree with him. "OK. Let's go."
"I'm not coming with you."
"I'm not letting you go."
He sighed. "Bella..."
"You're hungry, right? You must be." I twittered nervously, blocking whatever it was he was saying, my voice hitting a high note that could almost break glass. "I'll cook something for you. There's even some leftover lasagna. You love my lasagna. Let's eat."
Finally, maybe it was because he felt my trembling hands, maybe it was because he heard the needling in my voice, maybe, he was just hungry but he finally shifted his face toward me but this time it was me that couldn't meet his eyes. Instead my eyes were focused on our hands, on the difference of size and color and action. Once, he'd held me like this, once he pleaded for me not to go but I ignored him. Served me right if he did the same thing.
But I knew I couldn't take it. I wouldn't survive it if he left now, if he left like this.
"Please, Jacob."
The seconds stretched onto forever until finally, he said slowly, softly. "Stop biting your lip like that."
I had to stop looking over my shoulder ever few seconds to assure myself that he was still there. He was so quiet, sitting at the table with his eyes on me. It was as if the second he decided to finally look at me, he found himself that he couldn't look away.
I distractedly shoved the lasagna into the microwave and poured two glasses of milk. I jolted when he was suddenly beside me, but he was only taking out plates, then moved over counters to get the spoons and forks. It was stupid and silly, but that simple, practical act made my heart jumped out of my mouth because it reminded me of all those days where spending time like this was as natural as breathing.
Only we would've talked more, joked around more, and smiled more.
I put the pile of scrambled eggs and bread on the table between us.
We ate in silence, the food passed through my throat like air.
He helped me wash the dishes.
Finally, his stone silence cracked me, the days where I wondered where he was, the nightmares, the anxiety mixed with the relief, guilt and the endless stinging hurt that was inflicted by his silence boiled inside me, threatening to explode.
His facade cut me to ribbons.
I heard him sighed beside me and when I peeked at him from the corner of my eyes, I saw his mask crumple; the straight almost military way he squared his shoulders disappear, leaving him hunched over the sink with his two big hands clutching the edge like he could fall without it.
I only saw it for a moment, a glimpse of his pain before I was crushed against his chest but it was enough for me to feel the crippling ache that tore at my heart like a savage beast intent on pulling it out. I heard him mutter something into my hair but the sound was covered by my sobs that rose alarmingly, it was a miracle that Charlie hasn't barged in on us by now.
We clutched at each other as if we could pass through one another, responding to the pain that we felt together and apart.
It was a good thing I'd changed my sheets before because Jacob was exhausted; he could hardly walk up the stairs and there was no way I could ever carry him. We face each other without touching but tired as he was; his eyes were open, staring at me.
"You haven't been sleeping." He whispered ironically since the dark circles under his eyes were the worse that I've ever seen and I've seen a few.
"So have you." I whispered back.
He lifted the blanket up to my chin then slid a slender finger along my jaw before pulling away. "Sleep."
I needed to touch him so I inched closer and laid my palm on his cheek, letting it rest against his warmth.
"Sleep."
It wasn't until I saw him close his eyes that I closed mine.
I woke up to a dark, empty bedroom and for a second where I touch the empty space beside me, the pain that ripped through me was a knife hallowing out my heart, it sliced at my chest and went through my spine and back.
The tears didn't immediately come because I couldn't breathe.
I raised my knees up and curled into a ball, my mouth opened, fighting to breath, fighting not the scream. Charlie has enough to worry about.
"Ah, Bella."
For a crazy second, one insane moment, I mistook the velvety tones of Edward's voice for his. Hoped that it was his.
I didn't need a mirror to see how horrified, how terrifying I look, I only need to see his face, it was all there.
"Love, what's wrong?"
I choked when he touched me, I was still warm from the touch of another, or at the thought of another. It was only a dream, wasn't it? I asked myself, he wasn't really here.
"Jacob. I dreamt that he was here." Cruel, heartless to admit that to Edward, crueler still to admit it enough so that he was resigned rather than angry at my confession.
"Dreamt?"
"Yes." I squeezed out of my choking throat. I watched him watched me, trying to read my expression. "Bella, he was here."
"What?"
"Jacob was here."
I shook my head. "No, it was only a dream."
He smoothed my hair, his golden eyes was drowned in sympathy and regret. "Alice saw your future disappear a few hours ago and I knew he was back. His scent is still fresh."
I rocked, shaking my head all the while. Why is he doing this? Why is he telling all these lies? Doesn't he know that it only hurts me?
His eyes dropped to my hands that gripped my knees. "If you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe your own eyes."
"What?"
"Look at your hand, Bella. Look at the bracelet." When I only stared at him, he lifted my hand, letting whatever kind of light that streamed down the window glanced at my bracelet…and I saw it.
There was an additional charm, blinding white against the darkness, so white it seemed to glow. I knew exactly what it was made of. The driftwood tree, our driftwood tree, the one we always sat on when we were at the beach.
The shape he carved it into was a seashell, another reminder of our long walks at the beach.
The sob broke out of me like a whirlwind, the tears streamed down like a flood that filled out the emptiness within my chest until it overflows.
Edward merely held my hand and watched me cry with sorrowful eyes, knowing that his touch wouldn't be enough to mend me, not this time.
No comments:
Post a Comment