Edward never came back after he left Bella in New Moon. Bella went to college, married Jacob, had a daughter. When Bella's grandaughter and Edward find each other in Forks, can Edward overcome his memories and devote himself to a new love?
It's a tired old plot, but this is the first time I've ever written Twilight fanfiction, so please indulge me.
7. Chapter 7
Rating 0/5 Word Count 1647 Review this Chapter
I thought I was doing so well. For one whole day I had accepted the impossible with utter calm and poise. I think it was Alice’s visit that cracked me. It was so surreal – after she left, I couldn’t sleep, kept tossing and turning, throwing the covers off, pulling them back on, my mind going around and around so fast it made me dizzy.
<i>Why shouldn’t it be true?</i>
Because it’s impossible!
<i>Is anything truly impossible?</i>
Yes! And this is one of those things! Believing in vampires is just the first step down a road that leads to psychic readings, dancing around naked at midsummer fertility rituals, and wearing protective crystals!
<i>Stop being so uptight. Haven’t you always prided yourself on being open-minded?</i>
This is carrying it a little too far! He’s not even human – I mean, he is human, because he’s not a vampire, because vampires don’t exist. Right?
<i>Who says they don’t?</i>
I say they don’t! And stop asking those stupid rhetorical questions.
<i>Alright. I’m just saying, you have to stop judging everything by your own little pre-conceived standards. New things come along.</i>
New things like vampires?
Over and over again, the same argument played itself out in my head. I was hot again. I threw off the covers, and, as that didn’t help, got out of bed, crept down the hall to the thermostat and set it to seventy. When I wasn’t debating the existence of vampires, I was thinking about Bella. My grandmother. I’d been close to her when I was little, but she had died when I was young. My memories were of an old woman with ash-gray hair and a serene smile. Various family members had always said I took after her, but I’d never paid much attention. I had never seen a picture of her as a teenager before. The resemblance was stunning. Even I had thought the picture was of me – except for the hair. How did that make Edward feel? Accepting the fact that he was really a vampire and had been born in 1901 and been madly in love with my grandmother around the turn of the century, how did it make him feel to see her image more than fifty years after leaving her?
When he looked at me, did he see her?
Was that the reason, then, he had seemed to fall so quickly? Because he was in love someone else, and he saw her in me? Something inside me broke at that thought. I had tried to downplay the importance of our relationship in my mind, but with that thought I knew that if his love was – fake – I couldn’t cope. It would break me completely.
I woke up late the next morning – Saturday, thank god. My sheets had been twisted into a knot and wrapped around the comforter at the foot of my bed. My hair had burst from its braid and the twisting curls had become tangled frizz. I had been sleeping curled up on my side, arms folded tightly, hands gripping so tightly they left white marks on my forearms. Obviously, my sleep had been troubled.
My father had left a note on the breakfast table. He was working today and would be home around three. Reading it, I was swamped by an unexpected burst of loneliness. I had barely seen my father since we moved here; he was always at work. Our dinner last night had been the first time we’d been in each other’s presence for at hour together, and I’d been so distracted I’d barely said a word. I could have used a conversation with my father to joke me out of my mood, too. His humor might be annoying at times, but he kept me from taking myself too seriously. He’d never been such a workaholic in Dallas. What was going on?
Or was he just going through the same agonizing I was, only over my mother? Maybe that’s why he was never home – it was painful.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned. My room was smotheringly hot. At last I gave up. Without turning on the light, I crossed to the window and opened it, letting in a gust of freezing air – it was the second week of November, and winter came early in Forks. It was surprisingly clear out, and the moon was nearly full, bathing the view in an unearthly, glowing light. Without pausing to think, I climbed out the window and stood on the roof.
I felt really weird, almost like I was on drugs. It was about 25 degrees out there, and all I was wearing my pajamas – a thin camisole and a rolled-up pair of knit shorts, but I wasn’t cold. I was hot, hotter than I’d ever been in my life. More than that, my hearing and sight had changed. It wasn’t that they were worse; it was that everything I saw and heard was coming from a long way away, so far away that I could never be affected. And somehow, beneath all this vagueness, my every sense was hyper alert. My movements were blindingly quick, my sight and hearing more acute than ever. The cold air made no impression, but my feet were sending overwhelmingly complex messages about the way the roof felt beneath my bare feet – every bump, every curve, every rough patch.
I jumped off the roof, something I would never have imagined an hour before. It wasn’t really a very high jump, but it was onto hard ground. I landed on my feet, which should have hurt, but didn’t. I walked – no, glided around the house into the forest, my movements more graceful than ever before. Then I started to run.
I’d never run like this before, barefoot, through the woods, in the freezing air. I’m not fat or anything, but I’m not in perfect shape, and usually I don’t like running. This was different. This wasn’t running, this was flying on the ground. My body never complained, it demanded <i>more, more, faster, faster!</i>
I don’t know how far I went, certainly deeper into the forest than I had ever ventured before.
It started to snow. For some reason, the snow made me think of Edward. I had forgotten him when I started running. <i>I need to go back</i>, I thought. It was the first clear thought I’d had since I left my warm, mundane room. So I turned and ran back the way I’d come, in the same trance of movement. I paused outside my house for only a moment, then executed a jump usually seen only in a Star Wars movie, from the ground to my roof in barely a second. I leapt through the window into my room.
It had been mine for a month now, but I felt as though I had never seen it before. My things were unrecognizable. I wasn’t even sure what most of them were. I knew the bed, though. I fell onto it without bothering to shut the window and was asleep instantaneously. The difference between sleep and the trance I had been was probably very small anyway.
Monday morning, Izzie walks into chemistry, and I am fervently glad to see her. But something is wrong. Her smell is just slightly off. I breathe in deeply and strive to determine what it is that I’m detecting. I’ve smelled it before. I can’t place it, but it stirs up vague feelings at the back of my mind – bad ones.
I put it out of my head. My Izzie is here, what else matters? What else could ever matter?
She sits down beside me, and I realize that there is something else wrong. Heat rolls off her body in waves, warming even my icy flesh. Her cheeks are flushed deep red and her eyes are slightly glazed. It’s 45 degrees outside, but she is wearing a tank top and capris.
"What’s wrong?" I ask. "Are you sick? A fever?"
"No, I’m find," she says. Her voice has an odd quality to it, unusually high. "I’m just…I didn’t sleep well last night."
I didn’t visit Izzie last night. I just couldn’t face her. I regret it now, though I know the regret is foolish.
On my left, Arthur Miller throws a crumpled paper ball, doubtless a note, towards Sara Henry. His aim is off, and the ball nearly hits Izzie in the face. I reach for it, vampire-quick, but somehow Izzie has already caught it, snatched it out of the air with impossible speed.
"Sorry," Arthur says sheepishly. Izzie shrugs and throws the note to Sara. It lands precisely in her lap. I open my mouth to ask Izzie what’s wrong really, but class starts and I have to be quiet.
"Izzie, really, is something wrong?" I ask her as we sit down to lunch.
"No, no, nothing’s…" she trails off and looks thoughtfully at her tray.
"What?" I ask gently.
"Last night…I thought it was just a dream this morning…last night I couldn’t sleep and I got up and crawled out my window and just…went running through the forest. I don’t know how long it was, it was like I was in a trance. I knew just enough to turn around and go back. I jumped onto the roof beneath my window. It was really freaky."
"It was below freezing last night," I say curiously. A horrible suspicion is beginning to form at the back of my mind, but I’m ignoring it. No, it can’t be. Not on top of everything else. It can’t be.
"Yeah, I know, and all I was wearing was my pajamas and no shoes, but I wasn’t cold at all, I was really hot, actually."
My breath catches. I can’t go on ignoring the symptoms. All the conditions are fulfilled. I should have thought of this when I fell in love with her, I should have thought, period. What else could it mean?