Chapter Text
In the beginning, I had mentioned that I had never given much thought to how I would die, how it would be noble to die in place of someone I loved and although I still hold true to that notion, things have changed.
I had been in love with someone that I thought truly loved me back and I was sorely mistaken. And even though it has taken me time to realize my clear misguided infatuation, I can safely say now that it was never more than that: infatuation. Because here, in this moment, as I truly face death, I don’t find myself at peace or in a space of being noble. I’m angry and I’m terrified. I look down at the man that was meant to be forever, his dark hair matted with blood, his dark eyes pleading with mine to not go, to not do what I have to do in order to make things right and I am run through with a cacophony of emotions: fury that I didn’t have enough time, joy that I had any of it, laughter at the sheer irony of everything, and bittersweet sadness that this is actually the end. I slowly walk away from him and look up into the crimson irises of the three that are sealing my fate as I know it, and I don’t feel peaceful or noble. I just wish I was strong enough to snap their necks, to make them feel as helpless and vulnerable as I feel as a human being.
I stand before them and I want vengeance for what they’ve done to my life, to his life, hearing his baritone voice behind me pleading as he bleeds on the ground to run, to save myself, begging me….
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry it has come to this.
I wish I could change how everything started but then maybe I wouldn't have met him, the one I was meant for in the end. And even though my life ends at only eighteen, I’m glad I got to experience some of it with him, but this has always been how it was meant to end, my karmic debt paid in blood for being seduced by Edward Cullen.
Enough is enough.
The wolves have done far too much for me and I’m tired of hiding. Tired of being the one people feel obligated to protect.
I was just glad to know the truth in the end; to find him and really know what love feels like. To feel the freedom that true unbridled desire can relinquish from an anguished heart and to know that despite the fact that I am mortal, the experience of feeling blissful extraordinary love… that alone will live forever.
***
I wake up this morning feeling like shit.
Although that has been the case every morning since Edward left and I collapsed into a void of despair, today’s shit feeling is acutely related to the amount of whiskey I imbibed last night. The throb in my temples is pulsing so much, I think my eardrums may rupture as my mouth waters with nausea. Every time I tell myself, “I will never drink again,” after the aspirin kicks in, I have a shower, and some coffee, I’ll be back at the bottle when the day is done.
One would think that after a few months of self-pitying and wallowing, I’d find a way to get over things…
But I am remarkably stubborn I suppose.
Perhaps I’ve found that being this darker, more melancholy version is actually a more accurate representation of myself.
Edward left in September after my eighteenth birthday (further solidifying my hatred of celebrating my birthday), and seeing as it is now Thanksgiving, I should be getting over things…
So Google says.
Jacob has been coming to see me, which I suppose is nice. He has this uncanny way of making me laugh despite my insistence on being miserable. Maybe it’s his ability to sit in it with me and just be present that makes it a little easier. He doesn’t try to make things better, which is something I appreciate. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to hear, “You’re so much better off without him,” or “You are too good for him,” or “He was an asshole anyway, you deserve better,” from Jessica, Charlie, and Angela respectively. I totally get they’re just trying to help, but it’s not .
It doesn’t help.
It doesn’t fix how I’m feeling. I’m still a mess. I’m still depressed and angry. None of those things are a comfort, so when Jacob sits next to me and says, “You look like shit,” I fucking appreciate it.
It’s a fact.
I do look like shit because I feel like shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if that is all I’m comprised of now.
So I appreciate being seen where I am, and not what others hope I will be someday. Because the truth is, I don’t know if I am going to be okay. I may never be right again and Jacob is fine with that version of me, which is what I need right now. I’m grateful that at least one person is okay with this crooked amalgamation of bitterness, darkness, self-pity, and disgrace. It helps me breathe a little easier.
I get myself dressed even though I feel like it’s kind of useless, Charlie makes me go back upstairs and change out of my usual 2XL T-shirt and sweats with gaping holes…
Which is fair I guess.
So I slip on a pair of jeans that used to fit perfectly but now hang loose over my hip bones, and a black hooded sweatshirt, flicking the hood up over my hair that has gotten long and a bit matted.
I slip on my Doc Marten’s and head downstairs. I walk into the kitchen where Sue Clearwater is cooking Thanksgiving dinner, because God-forbid Charlie tries and burns the house down and if the cooking is left up to me, we will be having alcohol which Charlie might not be too mad about, as long as he’s the only one drinking and it’s beer.
I sit down at the small kitchen table, while Sue opens the oven. A plume of steam blows her hair back as she pulls out the rack to baste the turkey. The TV is on in the living room and Charlie is commentating the football game with Harry from the couch, occasionally taking long sips of their beers. Seth Clearwater is also in the living room on the recliner playing on Charlie’s old GameBoy. I can’t tell if he’s focusing on the game or confused with the heavily pixelated 90’s technology. I’m not surprised Leah isn’t here. I’m certain she hates being around me and I’m totally fine with that.
I hate being around me too so I totally get it.
I think maybe the bigger reason she hates being around me is because we mirror each other’s misery a little too perfectly. Sue explained that Leah's fiancé left a while ago and she’s still angry. So, I don’t fault her for not wanting to be around me and my worthless self-loathing.
I hear a car pull up and see Jacob and Billy arrive which makes the tightness in my chest loosen. There’s a third person in the car and I stare at him as they make their way out. It’s a guy, close to my age, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with cropped black hair. He gets out of the car and I notice his height and body mass are impressive. He’s taller than Jacob with more muscle mass, he’s wearing a gray T-shirt under a black hoodie and blue jeans with black biker boots. I don’t see the details of his face fully until he helps Jacob get Billy into his wheelchair. The three of them walk up carrying a few bags most likely full of side dishes and beer to the front and I see that he’s good looking: a muscular square jaw covered with a shadow of facial hair, high cheekbones, clear, discerning brown eyes with long black lashes and a full mouth that is set in a tight line as they approach the house. Jacob opens the door without knocking as usual because they are basically a part of the family now.
“Hey!” Jacob says as he pulls Billy up in his wheelchair over the front steps. Why Charlie hasn’t installed a ramp yet is beyond me.
“Hey! Happy Thanksgiving!” Charlie, Harry, and Sue holler in unison as they enter.
I get up to see if they need any help with the bags.
“Hey Bells!” Jacob says, wrapping me in a big hug and I pat his back lightly, smiling weakly as he squeezes a little too tight.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask, and Jacob bats my hand away.
“We got it,” Jacob says, as Billy wheels himself into the living room to join Charlie and Harry to watch the game. Charlie tosses him a beer from the cooler by the couch.
The new guy shuts the front door behind him holding several bags in his hands and our eyes meet.
It’s… awkward.
“Um,” I start as he looks at me, mildly bewildered, “I’m Bella,” I finish hoarsely.
“Paul,” he remarks back, his voice clear and baritone.
“Oh yeah, sorry, this is my buddy Paul Lahote. His Dad is away during the holidays so I invited him,” Jacob yells from the living room, stuffing cans of beer into the cooler.
Paul’s eyes narrow, like he’s surveying me and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“I’m just gonna—” Paul says, gesturing towards the kitchen and I realize I’m blocking him so I move out of the way, stuttering my apologies. He sets the bags down on the kitchen table, removing a few bags of rolls, a few different pies, and onions.
“Oh thank goodness, I just ran out,” Sue exclaims, grabbing the onions and taking them to the cutting board.
Paul turns to me again, his eyes scanning my face as he makes his way past me to the living room. Then Jacob grabs my hand.
“Have you been outside yet or are you doing the 90 pound shut in thing again today?” Jacob asks, arching his eyebrow and smiling.
“It’s what I do best, Jake,” I mumble, my lips upturning slightly.
“Yeah that’s not disturbing or anything,” he laughs and I silently agree with him in my head. “You do look better today though, not one hundred percent, but like… maybe forty percent.”
“Thanks? I think?” I chuckle, but again, he has surmised it quite perfectly.
Maybe forty percent.
Maybe.
My eyes slide over to see Paul watching us as he leans on the fireplace mantle, my brow furrows while Jacob interrupts.
“I want to talk to you about something,” and before I can argue, he drags me through the front door, through the front yard, the clomp of my doc martens getting louder as we reach the sidewalk from the frozen grass. It’s ridiculously cold outside and somehow Jacob seems completely unfazed. We walk down the sidewalk closer to the line of trees going into the forest where we stop. I stand quietly, waiting and watching as he works through something in his brain.
“You okay?” I ask, then he meets my eyes.
“Can I take you to a movie Bells?” Jake finally asks.
I start laughing… thinking it’s a joke.
But as Jacobs face falls, I shut my mouth, realizing my mistake far too late.
“Oh,” I whisper. God I fucking hate myself so much.
“At least you’re clear,” he mumbles, his jaw clenching as he stares into the forest.
“Jake, I’m really sorry. I’m an asshole,” I choke out, my chest and stomach tightening.
How could you have laughed? What is the matter with you?
“No it’s fine,” he says, flashing a disingenuous tight smile which looks wrong on his face and it’s making things so much worse.
“It’s not,” I snap, as I take his tight unyielding hand. I face him grabbing his shoulders, squeezing them as I say, “I’m not ready for anything like that yet, Jake.” His eyes are a genial mask covering up a pool of hurt beneath the surface.
“I just thought, maybe,” he starts, hesitant to finish his thought while my stomach twists again, worrying about what he’s going to say next. “I thought maybe I could be better… than him.”
“You are better than him,” I blurt, and I mean it with all of my being. He will always be better than Edward, however… “But Jake, you can never be what Edward was to me. I don’t think I can have that with anyone.” I take a deep breath shuttering as the air fills my lungs, “I think I’m broken, Jake… and your friendship? It’s the glue holding me together right now.”
He’s watching me closely as I speak, the pools of hurt beginning to wane into something warmer; more himself which is akin to the summer sun and hot afternoons.
“I get it… I think,” he says, and I can still see it: the hurt that’s there but also the truth of what he and I are. It’s beginning to settle in a bit. I hope it’s enough for Jake because it’s everything to me right now. I need him desperately as my best friend, as the only anchor that’s holding me to reality, the only real warmth in this cold vacuum of space that is my life post Edward Cullen. If I don’t have Jacob, I don’t have gravity and I’ll float away never to be seen again… and I think he sees that now. I hope he sees that.
“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” he finally says, scrunching his nose.
“You made it super fucking weird,” I reply, relieved as I nudge him playfully while we walk back to the house. We both laugh, as I continue, “Jake,” I looking back at him. He meets my eyes, his warm kind smile back on his face where it always belongs, “P—please don’t leave.”
“You won’t get rid of me that easy, Bells,” he replies, nudging me back and I nearly fall over because I weigh practically nothing now; a gust of wind could bowl me over. He catches me before I hit the ground, “Jesus, Bella you need to gain some weight, you waif.”
“So I’ve been told,” I laugh darkly, righting myself as he helps me back up, “but I hear skinny chicks can do really well as models, maybe I can just do that.”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement, also gallows humor, Bella? I thought you were better than that,” he laughs.
“Everything about me is gallows humor,” I chuckle, sort of being honest.
We return to the house and Paul, Seth and Sue are setting the table in the small dining room. They’ve set out all the plates, flatware, glasses, napkins and are now setting out all the food.
“Oh good, you two go help Paul and Seth set out the food,” Sue says, dressing the turkey on a large cranberry red charger plate. Jacob hurries into the kitchen to grab a giant bowl of mashed potatoes with his bare hands. “Careful! That’s…” Sue watches in astonishment as Jacob carries the bowl with his bare hands into the dining room, “…hot. Okay then.”
“What can I grab, Sue?” I ask and she hands me a pitcher of water.
“Go fill up the water glasses,” she says, “okay everyone peel away from the TV and come sit down at the table.”
A few groans resound from the living room as the TV clicks off and Harry, Charlie, and Billy make their way into the dining room.
I fill up the water glasses and notice that Paul is watching me as he takes a seat between Seth and Jacob. My eyes flick back to the water glasses as I continue my task, feeling awkward again.
Why does he keep doing that? I know I look like a nightmare but did he have to stare? Jesus.
And now he is getting up again.
“Excuse me a sec, Sue,” Paul says and retreats out to the back yard.
“Hurry up!” Sue yells after him.
I’m curious. I shouldn’t be but I am. So I go out after him hearing Sue say, “Don’t be long, we’re gonna start dinner!”
I don’t see him in the back yard so I walk to the side yard and find him standing with his back against the house, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes as he exhales a heavy sigh… and this looks hauntingly familiar. The sensation a heavy ladened echo of several overwhelming weeks and months yearning for what’s gone… but why is he feeling it? He drops his hands and notices me watching him. I freeze not knowing how to explain my creepy behavior.
He sighs again and removes a flask from the back pocket of his jeans. He takes a long drink, then extends his arm, offering me the flask. I hesitantly walk over and take the flask, tipping it back.
It’s whiskey.
Okay I may like this Paul guy.
“I hate the holidays,” he remarks in his gravely voice, the sound vibrates along the surface of my skin, which is… interesting.
I nod, taking another sip, the burn of the alcohol singes all the way down to my empty stomach.
“I’m not a fan either,” I agree, my lips in a tight line as I hand him back his flask.
“You look like how I feel,” he says, “Shit, um… that came out wrong.”
“I don’t think anyone can feel as bad as I look,” I laugh, appreciating his honesty, “I get it though.”
He looks over at me, and I notice his eyes have a bit of green mixed in with the brown. The waning late afternoon sunlight makes the green look brilliant, like clover.
“What do you get?” he asks.
“Whatever is happening with you, it’s familiar,” I say with an unsteady exhale, replaying the last few months in my mind like a depressing gag reel, “the flask is a great idea, I might have to steal that.”
“You’re gonna steal my flask?” he laughs, taking another sip, “I’m kinda fond of it.”
“Steal the idea I mean,” I smile, “it’s a nice flask though, don’t tempt me,” I smirk, feeling warmth in my chest and it’s odd.
“Guys! Dinner!” Charlie calls from the sliding glass door. Paul kicks out of his lean from the side of the house and follows me as I turn back to the door.
“Thanks for the drink,” I say, looking back at him, “we should do it again sometime.”
Where the fuck did that come from?
His smile reaches his eyes as he laughs and my God his smile. He’s hot but when he smiles, I don’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful, which I didn't think could happen after Edward.
“I’ll take you up on that,” he says as we walk back into the house.
What did I just do? But for some reason, I don’t feel like how I felt with Jacob. It feels…okay. It’s still weird… but right.
And warm.
I walk in and sit down by Charlie taking a sip of water and realize I’m still smiling.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Charlie asks, taking a big spoonful of mashed potatoes, “not that I’m complaining.”
I look up at him and shrug, my eyes landing on Paul and I notice he’s still smiling too.