It's one of the few sunny days in Forks and as usual Edward and Alice are skipping school. They're out hunting somewhere, while I have to go through a whole day without him. I hate these days and I'm really glad there are so few of them. I'm glad to have school. It keeps my mind off the pain of his absence.
Things have changed a lot after the trip to Italy. We became a lot closer, closer than I thought was possible and I am no longer afraid of the uncertainty of his feelings. But no matter how good things are between us, I still feel the edges of my dark whole pushing through my chest, making me struggle for air when he's not around. Luckily I only have to fight the awful feeling of loneliness a couple more hours- Edward would come for me after he returns from the hunting trip.
As I am about to pull in the drive way, I notice my dad's car is already here. Strange… He never comes home from work early. Not to mention three hours early- I check my watch just to be sure.
'Dad? I'm home! How come you're off work?' I take of my coat and throw my back pack on the sofa. He isn't in the living room as I expect him to be. Or the kitchen. Hmmm…maybe he's sick. I rarely have seen Charlie sick, and on those rare occasions he usually doesn't pay much attention to his condition.
I start up the stairs to my bedroom when I feel it. The smell that makes my stomach turn. I can feel the color wash out from my checks and my head starts to spin. At the same time a sense of absolute horror washes over me.
'Dad?!' my voice is shaky as I dart upwards, trying to ignore my heaving breath and light head that usually come before a fainting spell. My heart pounds, my cheeks are on fire but my hands are clammy and cold. I get no answer. I hope and I pray a thousand prayers while I stumble up the stairs and stop in front of my bedroom. The door is half open and the smell is stronger. I feel the house swirl around me.
'No, no, no, no.. I whisper without realizing if it's was out loud or in my head. My lungs refuse to work anymore. I see my hand reaching for the door in slow motion, and giving it a weak push.
And then I am falling, gasping for air, tears flooding my eyes. My throat closes up and I can't scream or cry or say anything. My father is spread on the floor in mangled heap, one of his arms twisted in a sick angle and half his throat ripped to pieces. He lies there, dead, in a pool of his own blood his face a fierce mask, his eyes still open, staring at the ceiling. My world seems to collapse on itself, the walls of my perfect little glass bubble shattered in a million pieces. I take one last step and fall on my knees next to his head and I putting my hands on his shoulder. He's still warm and this realization breaks something inside me. The hole Edward made when he left me bursts open again but with such a ferocity I feel my body break. And I know this time it will never close.