45 - 47.doc

Wide Awake: Chapter 45. Chunky Chips-Ahoy Part 1

BELLA


The night of Edward's departure was probably the longest night of my life. I'd stayed up so many nights in the past, but none of them were really comparable. After ascending the stairs to the third floor, I stepped inside of the ruins of my sanctuary, and knew what had to be done.

I began picking up the pieces and cleaning up the mess we'd made.

As a whole, the task seemed daunting and admittedly overwhelming. So instead of focusing on the entire scene before me, I mentally separated it into sections, and commenced tackling only what was directly visible and immediately achievable. I'd just begun clearing the golden carpet when I heard soft knocks at the bedroom door. I'd been prepared for Esme's resistance to my impromptu plan, so when the door suddenly swung open, I was taken aback when it wasn't her standing on the other side.

Instead of Esme, my four friends cautiously entered the bedroom one by one, each eying the aftermath of mine and Edward's altercation with varying expressions of concern and horror. I stood in the middle of the room, still soaking wet and freezing to the bone with hands full of debris, when Jasper immediately lowered himself to the floor to begin assisting me with the task of clearing it.

The paper in my hand crumbled under the weight of my tightly clenched fist as my gaze turned nearly murderous. I had the oddest feeling of being intruded upon in that moment-as if the destruction had been an intimate and personal production that I wanted no one else to witness-let alone touch. It made my face burn hot with humiliation and anger that mine and Edward's privacy was being somehow invaded.

But when Jasper met my gaze, his blonde hair created a veil from the others present, and his silent plea was etched deeply in the hard set of his frown and the low cast of his brow. He was helpless and suffering with concern for his friend, and… perhaps even me? I couldn't be sure exactly what he was concerned about, but I was certain of this: helplessness is an unusual feeling. It often manifests into an overwhelming need to be constructive, and I was in no mood to deny anyone of that fulfillment-least of all Jasper.

And so, with a defeated sigh, I allowed him to continue clearing papers and debris from the carpet without interference. From his side, Emmett scratched the back of his neck and expelled a loud exhale as his eyes surveyed the fallen bookcase thoughtfully. Without speaking, he carefully traveled to where it lay, and singlehandedly began lifting it back to its position against the wall. Alice moved to the books on the floor and began collecting them, offering me a sad smile from where I crouched on the balls of my toes, gathering clothing and paper.

After a few moments, I realized the sounds of activity had abruptly ceased. I shifted my gaze to the people in the room, and saw them all staring at Rosalie expectantly. She was leaning against the door frame with pursed lips when she met my gaze.

"I'd like to help, Bella, but this whole… manual labor… thing just isn't my forte." She shrugged with a simple shake of her head, stumbling over the term "manual labor." I dismissed her with the best smile I could manage while the others rolled their eyes and continued cleaning.

We worked on the floor for what seemed like hours, clearing debris and books and clothing, and no one really spoke unless it was related to the task at hand. Jasper and Emmett began discussing how to fix the holes in the walls. I tuned them out. But when Alice started for the bed, I shot up from my crouch, rigid in alarm.

"The bed is mine." I informed her stiffly, as if I were laying claim on a community cupcake and not a portion of destruction. Her eyes widened in shock, but she retreated with a nod and instead offered to hunt down a linen closet to procure new blankets and sheets-that I could handle.

The night wore on as we labored, and bit by bit, the golden carpet became completely clear of debris. The furniture became righted against the walls. The bed had been graced with new sheets and blankets that weren't familiar to me but weren't tainted with our every mistake. I kept his leather jacket draped safely over the sofa, my eyes sometimes drifting to where it lay.

Without any apprehension, and with some slight instruction from Emmett, I did five loads of laundry. If Carlisle minded that five teenagers were rummaging through his linen closets and utility room, he never made it known. I dumped each new load of clean clothes on the newly made bed and commenced the duty of folding and putting them on hangers. Doing Edward's laundry was the most oddly comforting chore, and I allowed myself to believe that maybe-if any such thing was possible-in the far distant future when everything was much less convoluted, this would be a common duty of mine. I allowed this fantasy to soothe me. That is… until I stood before his closet door, arms full of shirts and jeans with an anxious stare and a wildly erratic heartbeat.

Rose, somehow sensing my dilemma emerged from her position on the sofa and extricated the hangers from my hands. "Don't get used to this." She smiled. I watched her open the closet door as I retreated and wrung my hands nervously. She fumbled for a moment before the closet was suddenly illuminated in light. It was the only part of Edward's room I'd never seen before, and my sudden curiosity overcame me. My neck strained for a better view from my withdrawn position as she slid hangers aside to make room. As she hung them, I made careful observations on the particulars of his closet: the unexpected tidiness, the average size, the amount of clothing, and the types of shoes on the floor below them. The whole concept of his closet looked entirely innocuous, tremendously fascinating, and absolutely terrifying.

Rosalie's golden hair brushed against his dark shirts as she turned and scanned the rows of clothing. She deciphered the system he had in place, meticulously hanging the clothes according to his structure. My chest felt heavy as I watched another woman put away Edward's clothes. Dismally, I saw her gain an unusual and rare insight into his psyche that I had no way of possessing from where I stood, but suddenly craved. I was aware of the bitterness and envy this image should have summoned, but instead of bitterness, I just felt sadly incapable, a little inadequate, and ironically… hampered.

Everyone finally departed after the sun rose, and Alice enveloped me in a warm embrace before she exited the room. "You're not coming home, are you?" she asked after she released me. I made no move to follow her. With a sad smile and a shake of my head, I lowered myself to the bed, running my hands along the creases in the new comforter to smooth them out. It was brown.

She frowned while gazing around the room that we had all slaved so hard over. "Esme will be upset," she whispered softly before offering me a sideways glance. "But it might be for the best anyways. You two need some space," she said, and I could feel the double-connotation in her words as she disappeared from the doorway.

I closed the door behind her, more exhausted than I'd felt in some time, and leaned with my back against it. The soft oranges of the sunrise filtering in through the balcony doors amplified the golden hue of the carpet as my eyes absorbed the new scene before me. It was immaculate with the exception of the holes that were still present in the white walls.

I peeled off my hoodie and kicked off my shoes as I walked toward the dresser. I opened the drawers and began pulling out his night clothes. His white t-shirt and dark flannel pajama pants were huge on me, but comforting and soft. I used his bathroom and my blue toothbrush that was still present to brush my teeth. I turned down the unfamiliar blankets and tucked myself into the warmth they were meant to provide. I curled my toes against the cool sheets and nuzzled into his pillow.

When I was finally left without tasks to occupy my hands and mind, I allowed the anguish of his absence to swallow me whole.

---

Sleep. I binged on it.

I didn't go to school for the remainder of the week. I slumbered in Edward's bed and knowingly plunged myself into nightmare after nightmare. I'd jolt awake, sweating and trembling with terror and desperation, but somehow I'd manage to find the will necessary to force myself back into unconsciousness every time.

It made the time pass more quickly.

There were moments when I awoke and the sun would cast bright slants of light across the immaculate room, illuminating and exaggerating the holes in the wall and drawing my eyes to the only visible flaws. The worst was waking up at night. With the exception of the occasional rain shower, everything was eerily silent and calm. The stillness made me yearn for chaos and disturbance as I tucked the blanket under my chin and burrowed deeper into its safety. In these moments, the room felt strangely foreign to me, which seemed irrational, because I had slept in the room many nights before, but I'd just never slept here so alone.

I never looked at the clock on the bed side table, and my only reference for time was the sun and the darkness. It was complete isolation, but I wasn't awake to really feel the weight of it. I hadn't eaten, but I didn't feel hunger. I drank from the bathroom tap on the rare occasions I would leave the bed to use the bathroom, but I didn't feel thirst. I just felt tired. By the third day, I'd become rather surprised by my lack of visitors. It felt so relieving to be forgotten and left alone while I rested, my mind healing itself as best it could through the binge of sleeping.

Of course, that didn't last.

---

"Your hair is like… like-" Rosalie's nose scrunched up disdainfully as she eyed my head from where it lay on the pillow. "I won't even waste my stockpile of creativity to insult it properly." She sighed and gracefully lowered herself to the edge of the bed.

She had basically entered the room without my permission, and I had cursed Emmett for giving her the key. It was rather odd that of all people to approach me first, it had been Rosalie.

I yawned and rolled over so that my back was to her. "I'm not going home, so don't even try." My voice was weak from lack of use, and I felt a little pathetic in that moment as I curled my knees up to my chest and burrowed deeper into the blankets. But my mood had turned sour over the course of my binge sleeping and the constant drain of waking night terrors.

I reasoned, if you can't feel pathetic after your boyfriend fucks you before promptly fleeing the state, then when can you? I barely restrained the impulse to say this aloud, because in my heart I knew Edward didn't deserve that.

"Yeah, yeah, not going home. Rebellious teenager. Spurned lover. Whatever," she replied flippantly, standing up and walking around the bed so I could see her. I fought the urge to roll over again. It would have been a little too juvenile. With a grin, she lowered herself to a crouch beside the bed, and rather abruptly, her face transformed into the most charming and tender expression. "Bella," she cooed, leaning close enough to rest her chin on the mattress only inches away from my face. She was still smiling sweetly as she continued in a soft whisper that caressed my face with the scent of some minty gum, "You are by far the smelliest bitch in all of Forks right now, and if you don't get your ass up and take a shower, I'm going to physically harm you in the process of forcing you to do so myself."

At my narrow-eyed glare, she threw her head back in laughter. Rosalie had the most obnoxious laugh I'd ever heard. It wasn't nasal or anything. It just didn't match her body. It was strong and guttural and came from the depths of her belly. I supposed it was more of a deep guffaw, and it annoyed me as I flung the blankets from my body and stalked into the bathroom to shower the three nights worth of sweat from my body and hair.

Edward's shower looked just the same now as it had the only time I'd ever used it. His shampoo was sitting in the same location, and I used it without hesitation, his smell wafting around me comfortingly as I massaged it into my scalp. I used his soap to clean my body and lathered myself in his scent. I used his shaving cream and razor to shave my legs. Everything felt and smelled like Edward and the hot water eased my muscles. I inwardly thanked Rosalie for forcing me to do it. As the water eventually cooled, I stepped out of his shower and used his towels to dry myself. It was the best I'd felt in days.

When I emerged, the bed was stripped, and a new set of sheets sat atop the mattress. Rosalie motioned with a perfectly manicured hand to the bare bed, and to my surprise, began spreading out the sheet. It seemed so domestic, and so unlike her. This notion was only amplified by the deep crease of concentration between her brows as she fought with the elastic of the fitted sheet. With much amusement, I began helping her with the task, finding the silence with her to be quite nice.

Too nice.

"Don't get used to this either. And also, Alice and Esme are throwing toddler worthy fits over there, you know?" she asked, quirking a brow at me as we both tucked the sheets under the mattress before adding with a breathy chuckle, "And Emmett actually spent three hours in town last night hunting down a bag of Chunky Chips-Ahoy cookies, only to eat one and throw them away."

"Then why haven't they come to check on me?" I sighed apathetically while craftily avoiding the cookie subject that I was in no mood to discuss. Truthfully, I didn't really care, but it seemed like the right question to ask. I was being given such a wide berth.

Rosalie shrugged lightly without meeting my gaze. "That's probably my fault. I threatened various methods of bodily harm if they bothered your sulky-lazy-bitch-time." One corner of her lips pulled up into a little smirk as we spread the top sheet over the mattress.

"And just what gave you the inclination to be my 'sulky-lazy-bitch-time' advocate?" I asked dryly, though I was more than a little perplexed. Rose and I had never been close enough to warrant it.

"Edward asked me too," she answered without hesitation, and at my rigid posture and blank stare, added, "He didn't use the exact term 'sulky-lazy-bitch-time' advocate though. Of course, he wouldn't. It isn't nearly vulgar enough." She sighed while tossing me one corner of the comforter. My brows furrowed in confusion as she continued, her attention fixed on the bedding. "See, when Emmett left to go find his parents, it upset me." She shrugged, and then chuckled while meeting my gaze. "Okay, it pissed me off something fierce," she admitted, now setting her sights on the pillows and offering me pillowcases before continuing, "He was having this whole identity crisis thing, and when he left to go find them I felt-" She paused, her pillow only half covered as she gazed ahead at nothing in particular. "I felt like what I had to offer him here, in this life, wasn't good enough," she finished in a whisper while shooting me a sideways glance. She seemed a little uncomfortable with her confession as she cleared her throat delicately and resumed her task. "Anyways, I guess Edward just thought you could use a sympathetic perspective or something. He asked me to look after you." She shrugged casually, and my chest was suddenly filled with a heavily suffocating weight.

I dropped my pillow, grasping my chest as my face contorted in pain. I never even realized I'd felt that way until I heard the words escaping her mouth. I felt like what I had to offer him here, in this life, wasn't good enough. A breathless sob erupted from my chest, and Rosalie met my gaze with alarm and incredulity.

"You're crying?" she asked dumbly while tears began trailing down my cheeks, and I shot her a glance of exasperation. Her mouth fell into a disapproving frown. "Get a hold of yourself. I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems." She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded me uncertainly, as if she was unsure of how to deal with my visible emotions.

I suddenly had the most overwhelming urge to just… talk-about everything. Edward was the only person I ever really talked to, but even with him there were things I couldn't say. It occurred to me that I had never really been entirely open and candid to anyone at all. It was like this huge flood gate was shuddering and creaking under the strain of it all, just waiting for the chance to burst and drown the nearest bystander. It wasn't so much that I felt like Rosalie was the best candidate to hear it or sympathize. Truthfully, she was just there and convenient.

I started with the most pressing thing first. "I'm terrified for him," I admitted, and that was the truth. My own hurt and rejection and whatever else I felt was eclipsed by my fear that he was out there somewhere, getting his heart and hopes crushed into oblivion while I wasted away in his bed, helpless.

Rose didn't say anything, instead lowering herself to the bed and patting the space next to her, as if she sensed my all encompassing need to get it all out. Thus, I took the offer, sinking down beside her while my hair dripped dark circles into the bedding, and I began my purge.

I must have spoken for hours, and she thankfully granted me her ears without interference. Her blue eyes were intently studying my face as I confessed everything that had been festering deep inside of my mind for the past week. I told her about the day of destruction, wearing a deep, red blush that I made no attempt to hide. I told her how I'd felt powerful and lost control. I admitted how badly I'd hurt Edward that afternoon. I even told her about the sex and how painful it had been for us both. I described the shade his blood had been on his neck and how the grass had seemed lush and vivid as I'd vomited onto it from above.

The more I spoke, the more I began realizing subtle truths that had never really occurred to me then. Maybe I was too tired to process everything entirely, or perhaps the wounds were just too fresh to approach it from a rational perspective at the time it'd transpired, but I suddenly realized that those two people that I'd been speaking of for the past hours weren't Edward and Bella at all. I felt in it the depths of my soul as I described our actions, hostility, and reckless abandon. Those two people were the manifestation of every evil thing that had been done to them, and the realization abruptly stunned me into silence-my explanation of the fallen bookcase left only half complete and lingering in the air between Rosalie and me.

I was Edward's Phil. He was my Elizabeth. I victimized him, and he abandoned me. I wondered if he even realized it, wherever he was. I had a dual aching then. One was to be close to him and tell him that I'd finally figured that day out so that I could apologize-the right way. The other was to be close to him and grasp what we'd had and destroyed securely, so he could never abandon me.

Rose eyed me warily from her position at my side. "So you pulled down the bookcase?" She spoke for the first time in as many hours, but I snapped my mouth closed. That conversation had served its purpose, and I had better insight now. Even though I had no way of contacting Edward to finally explain myself, I felt marginally comforted by the fact that I'd have this knowledge when he returned.

All I had to do was make it until he came home.

I smiled at Rose and stood from the bed. "I pulled down the bookcase, but look at it now." I nodded in its direction where it stood proud and unaltered. It hadn't been conquered for long, and I had finished binging and purging.

EDWARD
 

The Volvo smelled… really fucking awful. My nose scrunched up, and I began eying the backseat for the source of the offensive odor. I had more discarded fast food bags than I'd ever willingly allow anyone else to see. It had to be that something that just… really fucking smelled, and it was going to drive me out of the car if I couldn't find it.

"It's yo-ou," a sing-song voice teased from my side and my jaw locked. I closed my eyes and sunk into my seat with deep and calming breaths. She's not here. I chanted over and over in my mind, and when my eyes opened, they were gazing right into Bella's.

"Yes, I am," she whispered with a smirk and leaned back into the passenger seat, her red skirt spilling over my upholstery and tainting it with wrong.

"No. You're not," I repeated while avoiding her gaze, then added in a barely audible whisper, "And I don't smell." Right? That was going to make a shitty impression-if any impressions were made today, that is.

She snorted, and I successfully resisted the urge to stare at her legs, or lean in and smell her curly hair. Fucking imposter. The first time she appeared in my passenger seat, I'd been driving and I'd nearly wrapped the Volvo around a fucking telephone pole. Now, she just "decides" to spring up out of nowhere… sporadically. Annoyingly.

"Yes you do."

Shit. Not one of these again.

"No, I don't." I sighed, still refusing to meet her gaze.

"Do too," she countered with a chirp, and I could hear her clothing shift as she moved closer to my side. I inwardly scoffed. Like Bella would ever chirp.

"Do not," I huffed in annoyance, willing her to leave while squeezing the steering wheel in frustration. I didn't want to put up with this bullshit today.

"Do too, do too, do too!" she repeated obnoxiously close to my ear.

My hands gripped the steering wheel roughly as her voice kept repeating "Do too" until I couldn't handle it anymore. "Shut the fuck up!" I snapped, finally meeting her gaze with a glare. Fuck, she was such an annoying bitch.

Her red lips fell into a pout, and she pivoted her body to lean her head against the glass window. "You hurt my feelings," she whispered with a frown, shifting her gaze to her hands in her lap and putting on a good show-like always. The sight of that expression on my girl's face brought a perfunctory pang to my chest, but only because it was instinctual. I had to remind myself that this wasn't Bella. She had no feelings to hurt.

I rolled my eyes and shifted my gaze back to the building. "You know, this is a bad time for me. Come back when I'm in the general vicinity of something sharp, so I can gauge my fucking eyes out," I replied absently as my eyes scanned the street one more time. The sun had just risen, and the sky was bathed in soft hues of orange and pink. Springtime in Chicago.

"Edward," she tisked disapprovingly while propping her foot up on my dash. I sneered sideways in annoyance, and it seemed to please her. "Must you be so cruel to your own psyche?" She smirked knowingly as I struggled to ignore her presence.

It was like I was getting crazier by the second. I mean, she just kept coming back. So much for my Adderall theory. After I'd finally left the Forks boundary line, I'd pulled over and slept for hours upon hours inside the Volvo. I couldn't continue traveling in such an incoherent state. I just knew I had to leave Forks first, because if I hadn't left at that exact moment, I'd never have been able to.

That round of sleep had gotten me to Chicago safely, and since I'd arrived, I'd been fending it off so well that I'd become rather proud of my control. Of course, eluding sleep had its pitfalls. Most notably… her.

"We're not crazy," she defended indignantly while retreating her shunned foot. "Crazy people don't know they're crazy. It's what makes them so damned crazy," she explained, and from my periphery I could see her lifting her hair, sweeping it away from her face. "Stop being all…" she trailed off in thought while bunching up her curls and letting them drop in cascades down her shoulders. "Boy, Interrupted." She abruptly snorted and giggled while I rolled my eyes at the display. She always spent more time talking to herself than me.

Oh, wait a minute. I do that too, don't I?

I am so fucking fucked-up.

After her giggles ceased, she sighed long and hard, and then the vehicle settled into a glorious silence. I used the opportunity to concentrate on the townhouse and tried my best at blocking her out. It was the best I could hope for in these situations, and I really had to keep my head today. Today was the day I was going to just fucking… do it. No more excuses.

I had been in Chicago for two weeks, and I hadn't talked to her yet-even though it only took me five days to find her. It was surprisingly easy with the information from Carlisle's folder. She had lived in the same old townhouse for three years now.

This morning was my first attempt to see her… to spy on her. Whatever. It was a first, either way. I couldn't see any cars parked on the curb, and I'd spent the majority of the night scrutinizing the exterior face of her home. It looked nearly dilapidated, and I found myself repeatedly consulting the yellow manila folder to verify the address's accuracy. None of the windows were illuminated throughout the night, and I'd grown suspicious about whether or not she was home. Or if this even was her home.

My mind had been running frantic with thoughts and scenarios as I stared out my windshield. If I was really lucky, she wouldn't already have another family. That's what had happened to Emmett, and I knew it had devastated him. His mother and father had separated, but both of them already remarried and had children by the time he found them last summer. Still, I couldn't deny the look of acceptance in his eyes when he'd told me the story of his experience. They didn't want him in their lives, and he'd told me how happy they were. It didn't make him nearly as bitter as it should have.

"I always knew it was a possibility," he'd explained on my balcony the evening I left Forks. "They weren't mean, or rude to me or anything, they just didn't have room for me in their lives." He had shrugged as if it was no big deal-as if he'd been expecting it all along. At my disbelieving expression he'd continued, "It's not my place to barge into their lives and start demanding shit." I'd wanted to tell him that-yes, it was his place. He was their fucking child for Christ's sake, but before I could say the words, he'd swiftly added, "I already had everything I needed right here, Edward. I just needed to find that out for myself."

And so he had let them go, and it had shown with clarity on his face. I'd been shocked that he was capable of discussing them so casually. I couldn't even hear the word "Chicago" without curling into myself. But Emmett found acceptance by confronting what he'd lost.

That was what I wanted.

More than anything.

Some part of my mind knew, the more awful she was to me, the easier it would be to let her go. At the very best, I'd apologize for everything I did, and then leave before I could manage to ruin her new life too. She wouldn't forgive me, but I'd never expected that anyways.

This was a ridiculously selfish experience, and shit-I knew that. I knew the only one with anything to gain in this whole fucked up decision I'd made was me. By doing it, I was hurting her, I was hurting Bella, and… God only knows who else. But I'd had no doubts that evening on the balcony that I had to grow a pair and just face this shit. No more shortcuts.

"Why won't you call me?" Bella suddenly whispered in a cautious voice, breaking me from my silent reflection. My hands tightened around the steering wheel once again. Why she was bringing this up again-and now of all times, was beyond me.

"Fuck off," I growled low in my chest as I fought to ignore her. She really popped up at the most inconvenient moments, and I was in no mood for this argument.

This dispute would always progress in an annoyingly predictable fashion. I'd start by reminding her that Esme's house didn't have a phone. Both she and Alice had their own cell phones, and they'd probably never had a need for the extra expense of one. On the other hand, Bella had never had a need for a cell phone. Thus, I concluded that there was no direct way to contact Bella by phone. To which my annoying and incorporeal companion would counter with a reminder that I could call Alice directly, and she'd allow me to speak with Bella. To which I would counter that I wished not to bother Alice, and to which she would again counter with her doubt that Alice would be bothered. To which I would counter, "Fuck off."

See? I was saving us a whole shitload of time.

"But you want me to stay," she murmured while twirling a lock of hair around her finger. It was so fucking disgusting. I couldn't decide which was more disturbing-her being here, or me actually acknowledging it every single time. "You want to talk to me, so why won't you pick up a phone and call?" she asked once again.

"I'm done talking to you," I informed her briskly.

Bella had everyone back in Forks, and I'd made certain that everyone knew that I'd wanted her looked after before I'd departed. I'd even enlisted Rosalie.

Emmett had told me what a difficult time she'd had while he was away, and…

I don't fucking know.

I just felt like she could help my girl in some way that no one else could. I'd also asked her to stick by her side during school, since I knew that Bella would have difficulty walking to classes with Emmett or Jasper. Alice was a great friend and cousin to Bella, but nobody, and I mean nobody, fucked with Rosalie Hale. I knew after I'd called her that evening… I'd be spending less time in Chicago worrying over Bella.

"If anyone touches her, I'll rip their fucking balls off," she'd assured me firmly, and then had added, "Or tits. Whichever." I'd heard her shrug around the phone, and I'd known that she was dead serious. Rosalie was hard-core like that.

Bella was silent for a few moments before emitting a loud huff. "You know what, Edward?" She faced me then, ramrod in her seat, and I avoided her gaze as her mouth opened and closed repeatedly-seemingly unable to complete her thought.

My thought? Shit, this was confusing.

"Whatever," she finally spat and sunk back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest with a glower. I had made her angry. I suppressed a satisfied grin.

"Fine," I concluded, rather pleased that I had won an argument for once.

"Fine!" she yelled in an enraged concession, her cleavage heaving with her huffs and glaring ahead. She was always grouchy like this right before she vanished.

I closed my eyes and ground my teeth. I hated admitting that I wanted her here. I despised the notion that her presence offered me the smallest measure of comfort-just because she looked like my girl. I hated the power she had over me because of this fact. I hated that she was about to leave, and I really fucking hated that I hated she was about to leave. "FINE!" I finally shouted back in annoyance, and when I opened my eyes, the seat beside me was vacant once again.

---

I spent my time focusing very carefully on the yellow door to the building. It looked so goddamn abandoned that it was making me second-guess my intel. I probably could have called Carlisle to ask him for further assistance. He did have access to medical records, and far more resources than I could ever manage to attain. But I couldn't call Carlisle, and even though I had been giving Red Bella idiotic excuses the past days of why I couldn't call Bella either, I knew it had nothing to do with cell phone logistics.

I couldn't call any of them until I was sure that I could be better. Like Emmett.

By nine, I had decided to leave and was checking the Volvo's fuel gauge in consideration of a fill-up. I reasoned that I could find my bearings later, but I was suddenly really fucking exhausted.

Before I could turn the key in the ignition, I saw the yellow door shift slightly. My hand froze on the key, and my body stiffened in anticipation as it slowly opened. A woman with long dark hair emerged, covering her face from the morning sun and closing the door behind her. She was wearing a long, brown trench coat that stopped at her calves and hid most of her form. I strained over my dashboard to catch a glimpse of her face, but she was already down the steps and walking in the opposite direction.

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and my heart was suddenly thudding wildly in my chest-at the mere glimpse of a woman who may or may not have been my mother. There was no fucking way I was going to make it to her door if and when she returned.

I let my head fall to my seat with a shuddering exhale and waited.

I wasn't sure what I was waiting for, but I just had this feeling I should. My eyes closed for a few moments, but I opened them abruptly when I realized the risk involved. I watched a couple children traveling on the sidewalk with school bags on their backs. I shook my head quickly to stop that train of thought. It'd be out soon.

She returned after only twelve minutes with a brown paper bag clutched to her stomach. Her head was angled toward the ground, but I could see her face more clearly as she approached her building.

It had to be her.

I'd spent hundreds of nights sketching her face, and though this face looked more sallow, older, and pale, I was ninety percent confident it was the same person. The realization had me rigid in my seat. I watched her climb the steps and open the door to...