A/N: This is my first fanfiction! I really hope it turns out well and that I am able to finish it. I would just like to say, right now, that I'm not going to push you to review. I have read other stories where the author threatens to stop writing if they don't get enough reviews, and I think that's really annoying. So if you want to review, then review, and if you don't want to review, then don't review. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the Characters; Stephanie Meyer does.
It was another horrible day at school.
Not that anything particularly bad had happened, but every day was horrible without Edward.
I was driving home in my old truck, seeing the road but not really seeing it. My mind was on autopilot, and my brain barely registered the lightning that flashed across the sky and the gusts of wind that threw buckets of water onto my windshield.
By the time I got home it was raining so hard I couldn't see five feet in front of me. I could vaguely see that Charlie's cruiser was in the driveway, which was odd, because he usually wasn't home this early. I stepped out of my truck, my body still on autopilot, into the pouring rain. However, I couldn't feel the wet, or the cold. I could only feel the hole in my chest that I had recognized as heartbreak. I started walking slowly through the downpour, towards the dark smudge that I assumed to be my house.
I didn't know I had reached the front door until I tripped over the welcome mat. I caught myself on the doorknob, which twisted and flung the door open. After I regained my balance, a tiny feeling of suspicion registered in my brain. Why did Charlie leave the door open? He always locked it…
However, the feeling of suspicion drowned in the pain of my heartbreak. I closed the door, stooped down, and took off my wet boots, leaving them in front of the door. Then I straightened up and headed toward the stairs.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Shocked, I turned around. Charlie stood five feet behind me, his hair disheveled, his eyes yellow, his face filled with rage. In his hand was a can of beer, which was weird. I had never seen Charlie drink before.
He stared at me, waiting for an answer.
"I-I," I stuttered, "I was just going to my room to do my homework and-"
"ENOUGH!" Charlie roared. "Enough with the excuses! Why are you dripping all over the floor?"
I looked down at myself. Sure enough, I was sopping wet. I guess I hadn't noticed.
"Oh," was all I was able to say.
"Look at the mess you made!" Charlie growled.
I tore my eyes away from my soaked clothes to the floor, and I saw that there was a trail of water from the front door to the place I stood. The water dripping from my hair and clothes had accumulated on the floor under where I was standing, forming a puddle.
Ashamed, I kept my eyes down as I murmured, "I'm sorry."
Suddenly, I heard the sound of Charlie's heavy boots stomping loudly on the floor. I looked up to see him and his red, outraged face and clenched fists storming towards me. Without hesitating, he grabbed me by the arm with his left hand and punched me with his right. The surprise of it hurt more than the pain did. Charlie never hit me. What was going on with him? I carefully scrutinized his face for any hint or regret, but came up empty. I only found anger.
As quickly as he had come, he released his grip on me, leaving a shocking red mark on my arm. He turned his back on me and walked away, wobbling slightly.
I was still wet, but I really wanted to get as far away from Charlie as I could, so I quickly headed upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I took a long, warm shower, and then toweled myself off. When I brought the towel to my face, I felt a sharp pain, making me gasp. I hastily wiped the fog off the mirror and examined my face. I found a dark purple bruise about the size of a golf ball on my right cheek. The bruise was badly swollen and ringed with red.
Without thinking, I reached up with my finger to touch it, and it sent daggers across my face even when I applied only the slightest pressure. I gripped the edge of the bathroom counter for support.
When the pain subsided, I tried my best to ignore the bruise and got dressed. I headed into my room and collapsed on my bed. Homework was not an option. I was in no shape for that.
Exhausted from the torturous day, I fell asleep quickly. However, my dreams did little to comfort me.
I dreamt of Edward, yet again. He was walking away from me in the forest after he had broken up with me. I was desperately trying to keep up with him, but whenever I sped up, he sped up even more. Pretty soon I was sprinting after him, but he was just too fast, and he disappeared from my view. I tried to run faster, but I tripped over a root and fell, landing on the wet earth, getting a mouthful of dirt.
I woke up in a cold sweat, panting. I glanced over at the clock. It was just past two in the morning. Groaning, I laid my head down on the pillow again, but I knew there was no way that I would fall asleep. I got up and tiptoed out of the house, careful not to wake Charlie. I was sure that he would punch me even harder if he caught me trying to sneak out. The thought of it made me shudder.
I closed the door softly behind me, and walked through the rain to my truck. It wasn't raining as hard as it had been before, but it was enough to thoroughly soak me by the time I climbed into my truck.
I started the engine, and drove, but I had no idea where I was going. My mind was on autopilot again. A loud clap of thunder awakened my mind, and I slammed on the brakes. I looked around, but could barely make out anything in the darkness. Where was I?
I got out of my truck and tentatively walked around in the pitch black, trying to get my bearings. Suddenly, my left food slid in some particularly slippery mud, and I slipped. I tried to regain my balance, but I couldn't and I fell on my back. I groaned, and got up. I was about to start walking again, but then I heard, almost a hundred feet under me, the crashing of violent waves.
I got on my hands and knees, and slid my right hand forward along the wet ground, until it met nothing but air.
I was on the top of a cliff.
I realized that I was in La Push, and remembered seeing some boys from the Quileute tribe jumping off this very cliff.
Why couldn't I give it a try? It wouldn't matter if I got hurt, I doubted anyone cared about me anymore…
I stood at the edge of the cliff, wind blowing in my face, the crashing of waves beneath me.
I stood, ready to jump.
Sorry for the cliffhanger! I will try to update as soon as I can!