"Are you serious right now?" Edward asks, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Yes," I reply quietly.

"But...what about us?" Edward replies. I open my mouth to speak but the words don't come. There isn't anything to say. "How could you do this?! To me?! To us?!" He cries.

"I'm not doing this to you, but you've always known this is what I want to do!" I explain, my voice pleading with him to understand.

"I know but I didn't think you'd actually fucking do it!" He shouts. "So what? That's just it? The past year meant nothing to you?" He says, his face becoming angrier by the minute.

"You know that's not true. It meant everything to me!" I reply, feeling the white-hot spike of anger stab my gut.

"Then why throw it away?!" Edward cries. "Why fucking leave?!"

"Because I want more!" I scream back. "I want more than Forks. I want more than one grocery store and a public pool that's only open in July. I want more than the people I knew at high school. I want more than the white picket fence and a backyard with a dog. I want more than this!" I cry, my voice echoing around the empty street.

As my rant comes to an end I feel the words hang heavy between us. Edward looks at me for a long minute. His face is a mixture of anger and confusion but most of all...pain.

"Well, that's the end of it then," He says quietly, dragging one hand across his face. "An end to all of it."

"Edward I..." I begin to speak, wanting to tell him I didn't mean it like that. I'd never want more than him and me. He's everything, my always and forever, but before I can get the words out, Edward is holding one hand out in front of him, stopping me.

"No, you wanna go? Then go." He says, his eyes fixing me with a cold stare. "Go!" He cries at me when I continue to stand in front of him. "Fucking go! I don't want to see you anymore. I can't even look at you. Just fucking go!" He rages.

I gasp a little, feeling the sting of his words as if they are a physical slap. I turn and run, lifting my skirts in my hands so I don't trip and fall. I run until my lungs burn and my legs ache and my eyes sting from the acid tears running down my face. I make it home, seeing the front porch light shining in the dark before throwing the front door open and sprinting up the stairs. When I reach my room, I throw myself on my bed and cry for all I'm worth, my pillow turning wet under my face.

He hates me.

That's it.

It's over.