Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, I just like to hang out in her world.
I'd started by noticing that the date was the same when I'd fallen asleep, then I looked at the clock on my alarm. I had to crane my neck to see it from the angle where I was sitting on the floor against my bed, where I'd fallen. Or slid off, would be more accurate. It was 3:37am. Seven months, thirteen hours exactly since I killed the engine of my truck, climbed out, and followed him into the forest. I don't know what made me recall the time so vividly. I'd looked at the scuffed analog clock while taking a deep breath, just before grabbing the door handle. I know he heard that shaky breath and my heart's hard thump when I noticed his fists; curled tight and white-knuckled. Like he was getting ready for a fight, though he'd never lay a hand on me in anger. My heart broke for him in that moment, for something must have caused his stiff, yet defeated posture. Regret, I realized. I'd never thought of it before now.
I wish I'd been enough, he wouldn't have had to endure breaking up with me. He was such a careful person, it must have bothered him that he'd made the mistake of dating me, of letting me fall in love with him. It's funny the things you think of when you see things from another angle, such as one from the floor, looking up. I felt my eyes sting and my chest throb as I pulled my knees up to hold myself together.
I was on my floor because of a dream that did not leave me screaming, thankfully. Charlie was a man of duty, and his duty was to save his eighteen year old child from nightmares a few times a week. It was the only time I couldn't pretend things were fine. I tried not to meet Charlie's eyes when he woke me. We'd already had the talk about getting out and seeing friends back in March. It's May now, and I've tried to keep from him that Jake ditched me. Apparently Billy hasn't brought it up, and my absence from home hasn't been questioned yet. Finding places to be alone without raising suspicion isn't a problem, and I guess he assumes I'm talking to people. Adding a few extra sentences to my daily routine isn't hard. Throw in a snarky remark once a week and it's like I'm a normal 18 year old. Right. Regardless, the nightmares still give me away. The guilt over that situation was uncomfortable for both of us.
In my dream tonight however, I was driving my truck, with it's cavernous dash, into a ditch. I was going to get to him. Edward. There was no doubt in my dream state that we would reunite, and the determination was too great even to fret over a smashed vehicle. My only means of travel. I somehow remember thinking it was a great idea, to trash it in the ditch, but the rest of the details are fuzzy. How could I have known where to find him? Wrecking the truck seems counter-productive. Perhaps my subconscious dreams are suicidal, and some deep part within me is ok with it? Seems probable.
I climbed back on to my bed and laid my head on the pillow, staring at the spot of peeling paint that looked like the letter C. I didn't want to think of the ache in my chest that went straight through to my core, saturating my bones in melancholy. So instead I thought of words that start with C, cavern, cluster, Connecticut... what rhymes with Connecticut? ...crank... that word reminded me of Jacob, my mechanic, my best friend. The way he'd decided I wasn't worth being friends with any longer. That was a few weeks ago. A month maybe? I can't be sure of the date. It was 3 weeks before I jumped off the cliff, I now recalled, because it was on a Saturday too.
My half-assed suicide attempt, and subsequent realization that I was an addict for the voice in my head, brought me to the shore of that rocky beach on my hands and knees, coughing and spewing seawater and cursing myself for making the decision to jump in the first place. Thank goodness no one was there to see my folly, or I might be in a straight jacket currently. A lucky thing, because the full sun and calm waves should have seen the beach populated yesterday.
I lay on the beach breathing in and out for a while after I resurfaced. Thinking of that voice. Thinking of Edward. I knew then that I would do anything in desperation just to hear him again, even balance on the blade between life and death, and I couldn't do that right either. I couldn't be Jacob's friend, I couldn't be the daughter Charlie deserved, and I couldn't be the one Edward wanted. There was no answer as to why that was, it just was. I'd never felt so alone, while lying there, sand and gravel stuck in my hair and on my face. I could do no more to change any of it than I could do to change the stars. I was inadequate in all 3 respects, and I had to come to terms with it if I was going to continue living. Considering I was a failure at suicide too, I supposed I'd have to live with all of it.
Those thoughts followed me back to my truck and saw me back on the road to home, where I squelched into the house, sopping wet. Charlie was hanging the phone up as was closing our front door. He popped his head around the corner after my shoes squeaked while I skidded to the stairs.
"You're soaked," he noted.
"I went for an unintentional swim." Which wasn't a lie, I hadn't planned on jumping until I got close to the edge and heard that voice warning me to "Stop, mind the edge." The little pebble that found its way to the water caught my attention. "Step back, Bella." Such a beautiful sound, if I stepped over I could follow the voice, maybe...
"Hmph," Charlie grunted and pulled me back to the present. He didn't question me on my explanation, and it was easier to let him believe I was more clutzy and less crazy than I actually was.
The phone rang as I ascended the stairs, but I didn't bother to wait and hear who it was. No one called for me. Charlie had been busy fielding calls over the last couple of weeks with the animals in the woods, and then Harry's funeral. He'd been laid to rest last week after a heart attack. I considered attending with Charlie, but Jacob had been so adamant that I stay away from him. I didn't want to be an object of ridicule or curiosity. So stay away I did.
I peeled out of my wet clothes and tossed them in a pile next to the tub as I stepped under the hot spray. I hadn't realized I was shivering until the heat hit the back of my neck. I wrapped my arms around myself as I enveloped myself in the only comfort I was to expect after my ordeal. A few tiny bits of gravel hit the basin as I leaned my hair into the water and rinsed the sea away.
After I was thoroughly warmed and rinsed, I padded to my room to find something cozy to wear. My grey leggings, a sweatshirt, and thick slouchy knee socks hid my shameful behavior that afternoon, even from me. Looking at myself you couldn't tell I might have died a couple of hours before.
I stopped by the bathroom to push the gravel I had piled with my foot into a corner of the tub into my hand, then gathered my wet clothes. I put the gravel in my bedroom garbage, I watched as the tiny stones fell from my hands into the plastic liner. Like from a cliff into the waves of the ocean. I walked away as my heart began to ache.
I brought the clothes down and tossed them in the washer. As I passed through the kitchen, I saw a note on the table from Charlie stating that he had to run to the station to sign off on something. I started the wash and tossed the note before I headed to the fridge to start a stew. Comfort food might be nice. Carrots, celery, potatoes, and chunks of beef landed on the table as the phone rang. I considered allowing the machine to get it, but instead I picked it up.
"Hello?" My voice was hoarse and barely audible from the seawater I swallowed. I cleared my throat, "Hello." My voice sounding slightly clearer, I waited but heard a click. They probably assumed no one was there and hung up. I placed the phone back on the receiver and waited, but no one called back. I began heating Grandma Swan's big cast iron pot, and chopping the onion. I could send some leftovers to LaPush… or not. I'd nearly forgotten that my affection and friendship would not be returned from that quarter, which meant gifts of food may not be appreciated anymore. No matter, this will freeze well. Charlie walked in as I was finished searing and coating the beef, and about to add the broth. I was mid-pour when Charlie stood in the doorway, arms folded and leaning on the doorframe.
"Don't answer the phone," he stated, "some punk is pranking the chief. I've had a lot of hang-ups since I got home, but the next time they call I'm going to get them."
Small town life, I thought. "Ya know chief, this could be avoided if you sprung for a phone with caller ID. Was this phone original to the house?"
"There's nothing wrong with that phone, Bella." He snapped, then walked away mumbling something about appreciation.
I sighed and went back to adding ingredients to the stew. Two extra sentences today, both slightly snarky.
Looking back on it while lying there in the early morning hours, I realized that no one had called again last night.
What do you think? I don't normally write fanfiction, but this little plot wouldn't leave me alone. I'll be posting chapters asap, its mostly written. Music is what inspired this story so I'll be posting music that helped inspire the chapters. Take it or leave it.
Everything I Wanted, Billie Eilish
Unrelated, I've been looking for a story that was once published on here. It was another Twilight FF, and had a huge music theme. Edward communicated with Bella through music, and Bella's favorite band was the Rolling Stones. If the Author sees this or if you know who the author is, PM me. I think about your story every time I hear Dreams by the Cranberries. I'm dying to read it again.