New Moon Epov
All ideas and characters of the Twilight Saga belong to Stephenie Meyer.
I picked my phone out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. I flipped it open, already agitated.
"What do you want, Rosalie?"
"Edward," she said, almost hesitantly.
"What, Rosalie? Spit it out, or else I'm hanging up." I really didn't feel like talking to anybody, especially her of all people.
"Fine. Here it is. Bella's dead, Edward."
I froze. There had to be a mistake. I must not have heard her right.
"I'm sorry, Edward. She's gone. Alice saw a vision of Bella jumping off a cliff. There was a storm, and she got pulled under into the water. She drowned."
No. This couldn't be happening. Bella couldn't be gone. I would prove it.
"Goodbye, Rosalie," I said, about to shut the phone.
"I'm sorry, Edward. I know this has to be hard on you, but you knew she was going to die eventually. Doesn't this just give you that much more of a reason to come back?"
How could she possibly think that something like that would make me want to be around others? But that was a moot point because Bella wasn't dead.
"No, Rosalie. It doesn't."
"Why not? Everyone misses you. Esme's worried sick about you."
"I'm sorry, Rosalie. No," and I hit 'end'.
Bella couldn't be dead. I was going to call her house, and she would answer. I had to know she was okay. If she didn't answer…
I quickly punched in the numbers to Bella's house phone and waited while it rang.
Jacob answered, "Swan residence."
In my best impersonation of Carlisle I said, "Hello. Is Charlie there? May I speak to him?" I didn't want to have to ask for Bella, just in case.
"He's not here," he answered, his voice full of pure, loathing hatred.
This wasn't good. "Well, may I ask where he is?"
"He's at the funeral." I hung up the phone, very unlike my father, but that was beside the point. Bella was dead. It was true.
Oh no. No. No, no, no. this couldn't be real. Bella couldn't be dead. She just couldn't.
I sat perfectly still for a moment, letting this newfound knowledge sink in.
If she was dead, then I was going to follow.
I was going to Italy.
The Volturi. That's how I knew I would die.