Emily understood. She Understood perfectly. That feeling as if your entire world...your entire existence came to mean absolutely nothing when you lost the one person who meant more to you than life itself...Oneshot.
Enjoy a little angst in Emily's POV. :)
1. Come Back
Rating 5/5 Word Count 4026 Review this Chapter
"He swears, but he, is sick at heart;
He laughs, but he turns deadly pale;
His restless eye and sudden start-
These tell the dreadful tale
That will be told: it needs no words from thee
Thou self-sold slave to guilt and misery."
-- Richard Henry Dana, Sr.
x x x
"Emily," Sam called, and it was clear from just the way he said her name that he cared about her above everything else. From the safety of her beloved's arms, she watched the sickly looking girl hunched up against the kitchen counter clutching painfully at her chest as she struggled to breathe. Emily frowned; the gesture going unnoticed by her fiancée, who continued to kiss the scars running down the left side of her face. ‘She's hurting so badly...'
"Hey, none of that," Jared complained. "I'm eating."
"Then shut up and eat," Sam suggested, kissing Emily's ruined mouth again.
"Ugh," Embry groaned.
But, it was when Jacob went to stand next to Bella that Emily worried. He smiled down at her with an expression of such pure adoration that it would have been agonizingly obvious just how much he loved her to everyone in the room, had they not been so caught up in their food. It was almost palpable. It was Bella however, that was really causing her concern. Jacob's thoughts were so obviously tangled up in her...and Bella's were so obviously tangled up in the vampire her heart still grieved for. She was in absolutely no shape to give any kind of attention to Jacob's advances. She was too broken to notice much of anything it seemed.
Suddenly, Emily felt very protective of Jacob. These boys were like her sons, and she hated the thought of them getting hurt. Hated it with a passion.
At the rate he was going, Jacob was heading straight for a broken heart and she felt an over-whelming urge to step in and stop him before he turned out exactly like Bella. And she knew Jacob could be annoyingly persistent-so much so that she feared that his persistence would only lead to more heartache. But she knew she couldn't interfere. She could only hope that Bella would, in time, recover enough to see just how strongly Jake felt and move on with her life.
But it had been months now since the Cullens had left Forks, and from what Charlie had said at the beginning of Bella's ‘zombie' period, she couldn't see any real improvement. Bella had just gotten better at hiding it.
That worried Emily even more.
She was starting to feel a little hostile towards Bella now, and although she felt a little stupid and judgmental-she didn't know how the poor thing must be suffering-but still, she thought Bella to be a tad selfish for being so wrapped up in herself. How could she notsee how he felt? Or what seemed worse was how could she notice and still not do anything about it?
As angry as Emily was...despite it all, she could understand exactly what Bella was going through. She understood perfectly. That feeling as if your entire world...your entire existence came to mean absolutely nothing when you lost the one person who was more important to you than life itself. Emily hadn't suffered as long as Bella had, but she had suffered long enough.
That day, she found out what Sam really was...the reason he tried to leave her. A day that she didn't like to dwell on because of what happened, but one that she cherished all the same because it was the day that he really came back to her.
On that day over a year ago...one that probably started off just as uncertain for her as it did for Bella...
x x x
It was a sunny day in Forks...which was strange. Most of the plants were still covered in icy dew and the sky was oddly cloudless, providing a very rare opportunity for her to get some genuine washing done. It was just as well; whatever her beloved boyfriendhad been doing lately left had left his clothes so dirty that she couldn't tell what color they were supposed to be anymore. The thought of him covered in grime used to make her smile, but instead she shivered, even when her delicate form was in the direct path of the sun.
Lately, he had been far from his normal self, and at first she had thought that perhaps he was just in a bad mood over something he refused to indulge her in because he knew she always worried...and even she knew she could be over-bearing at times. Sometimes, she wondered if he ever found her really exasperating and that perhaps that was the reason for his bad mood. She did worry about him a lot-especially recently-but she had thought that it was all within good reason.
He had always been so happy about spending every waking moment of his spare time with her; indulging in the simplicity of holding her in his arms and kissing her sweetly all over for hours on end while she washed his clothes and cooked dinner for him. She didn't mind. In fact, she found it a delightful experience because he always seemed so grateful. He'd always show up in her doorway with his long, dark mocha locks severely disheveled, russet skin and clothes smudged with the various stains that accompanied his ‘profession' as a happy-go-lucky daredevil. He'd always stumble in the doorway, his abnormal height making him incredibly klutzy and noisy. Everyday he would turn up like that; a goofy, brilliantly white smile on his boyish face, with eyes beaming at the sight of her. And everyday she'd laugh while she mentally noted how much she loved that smile. A few weeks ago, she would have bet everything she had...and more, that he loved her.
But now...he was different.
She frowned as pulled a newly-washed sheet from her basket and pegged it to the line, watching it flutter in the gentle breeze. Now, he was so distant, so resigned...about everything. He would barely touch her now-nothing but a quick peck on the cheek-when he turned up in her doorway clean and often only in a pair of shorts. He'd shaved off all of his hair, almost to the point where he was bald. When she asked, he'd simply said that it was more convenient and his hair was annoying him, anyway. She could never tell anymore when he was around; he was so quiet and so alarmingly graceful that it made her shiver. When she inquired about his lack of a shirt, he told her that he stopped wearing them to save her from going to the trouble of washing his clothes...
...But she liked washing his clothes. She liked it when he came home dirty. She liked it when he was noisy.
He didn't smile, either.
It was a new expression, one of carefully crafted indifference and detachment. Now, he always seemed so remote, so out-of sorts and completely uninterested in anything she had to say. He wouldn't tell her what was wrong. He wouldn't let her get close anymore-if she tried to kiss...or even touch him, he'd raise his hands extra carefully and pry her away so easily, so dismissively and with such authority that it hurt and made her eyes well up with tears that she forced herself to save until after he had left. He wouldn't say anything. His eyes didn't make her feel warm and wanted anymore-exactly the opposite-so cold and hard, as if emotion was just an abstract concept. He never made any indication that he knew how unhappy she seemed to be, he was always caught up in his own world. He was always busy most of the time; having already assigned himself as the new ‘protector' of the La Push reservation...
She yelped suddenly when something stung her hands. Looking down, she noticed that she'd been clutching one of his shirts so tightly, so...angrily...that she'd dug her fingernails clear through the skin on her palms, leaving tiny rivets of blood to seep through onto the white fabric. She groaned at the sight, throwing the shirt down at her feet and storming off into the house. She didn't want to think about it anymore. He was due back soon and her mood brightened slightly at the thought of making him his favorite breakfast in order to cheer him up. She hoped it worked.
He turned up just as she was whisking the eggs.
She beamed at him from her position at the kitchen counter, and with it she felt all the doubt slip away. He was here. That was enough.
"Good morning, Sam," she called, green eyes gleaming with delight.
He didn't move from the doorway. His expression was unreadable as she watched him.
When he didn't move, she made a point of putting down her batch of eggs, walking over to the table and pulling out a chair. "Come and sit down, silly," she chastised him lightly. "I've made your favorite for breakfast..." she trailed off when she saw his expression change. He almost looked angry. A silver of panic rose in her throat and she chocked on her next words. "What's wrong?"
He sighed as he tore his eyes away from her face and focused on the linoleum floor. "I...I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore," he said, voice suddenly sour.
To Emily's surprise, a massive shiver tore up his spine, making his whole form quiver. She watched uneasily as he tried to control it. "What's happening to you? What can't you do anymore?" she asked in alarm, not liking the way those words made her heart lurch painfully within her chest.
"This,"-he indicated with a shaking finger-"you and me. I'm no good for you, Emily."
"What?" she asked flatly, the words not sinking in at first.
"I'm no good for you. I never will be-"
‘No...this isn't happening...'
"You don't know that!" she screamed suddenly, eyes welling up with tears. "You don't know what's good for me! How dare you even pretend to know! If you cared about me at all then you'd stay! If you knew me well enough you would know that the only good thing for me is you!" Her voice broke several times. ‘How can you not know that?'
Sam's bitter expression faltered at the sight of the tears gushing miserably down her cheeks. She looked furious.
Emily stormed over to him purposefully-pushing past the small table and chairs-and reached up on the balls of her feet to lift his chin slightly so that he was looking directly at her. His eyes were unreadable and when he tried to pull away, she refused, holding his head steadfast in one hand. Her emerald eyes were intense, tears still damp on her cheeks. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me anymore."
His eyes brightened in alarm as a hard tremor rocked his huge frame. He panicked. "Em, please. You have to stay away from me. I'm dangerous. I'm not the same person as I was-"
"No, you're not!" She shouted in his face, new tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "And now I want to know why. What have you done with my smiling, fun-loving, klutzy, Sam? I want him back."
His eyes flashed for a moment, but his answer was nothing but a grim mutter. "I'll never be the same again. Ever."
"What do you mea-?"
"I have to get out of here," he whispered urgently to himself, his voice thick with emotion. Faster then Emily thought was physically possible, he carelessly pried her arms away and she nearly felt backwards. He was shaking so much now that as Emily watched him try to stumble out the door, it was almost as if his entire form was blurred, undefined. She couldn't even make out his face. His hands flew to his head, gripping the sides as if in terrible pain. He doubled over onto the kitchen floor, smashing the table in half as he fell.
‘Sam...what's happening to you?'
Instinctively, Emily reached towards him, but he violently pulled away. "Don't touch me!" he roared in a voice that was so utterly terrifying, so animal and so unlike Sam that it left Emily momentarily petrified. Something in her expression tipped him over the edge-his face abruptly shifting from anger to agony in an instant-before he disappeared. It wasn't until Emily tried to follow him that she realized how much she was shaking...and how impossible it was for her muscles to move.
Slowly, she willed herself forward; crawling precariously towards the front door. She could feel her entire body trembling madly, making it very difficult to move. Emily peered out onto her front lawn, her eyes blurred with tears. He was there, hunched over in the grass breathing deeply, still shivering so much that he looked almost transparent-a ghost. He moaned something unintelligible as he slumped over onto his side, almost as if he was in terrible pain. Something in her mind snapped...
She was on her feet and out the door in an instant, crouching down beside his hazy body even before she could think.
"Sam! Are...are you sick? Is that...is that what the problem is?" She tried to keep trembling out of her voice without much success.
When he didn't say anything, she took that as a conformation.
"I'll call you an ambulance right away!" she told him before jumping to her feet to run back into the house.
She didn't get very far though.
Emily felt something latch onto her arm and violently wrench her backwards onto the grass. When she turned, she came face to face with Sam's handsome expression, his features twisted in pure hate. "No." His voice was a slap. She winced.
"But I want to help you, Sam! I don't care if you're sick! I still love-"
"Shut up!" he screeched, hands once again plastered to the sides of his head. It felt like it was going to explode. He couldn't look her in the eye because the love behind her concern just made him feel even more repulsive. "Ugh...I can't stand it! I just can't do it!" Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and for a moment Emily was shocked. They had known each other for over a year and this was the first time she's seen him cry. She felt like weeping at the sight herself-she loathed seeing him in pain. Sam was always happy. It wasn't right for him to be suffering so much...she wanted to help him. She wanted to help him so much...
"It's okay," she whispered, arms reaching out to cup both of his cheeks. "I'm here and I'm not leaving you, Sam. Ever."
Hopelessness flashed across his face for an instant before he roughly pulled away from her. "Don't say that," his voice whipped out, low and harsh. "I told you, Emily...I don't love you anymore. Now leave me alone!" ‘Please just go away. Please...before I hurt you. I don't want you to hurt you anymore than I already have.'
She didn't move.
"I don't believe you," she said coolly, watching him with a petulant stare.
He gritted his teeth. He was losing the battle against the tremors. He had to do something quickly before he lost control. He knew he shouldn't have come back to say goodbye-he knew this would happen, even though he promised himself that it wouldn't, that he could control himself. But he didn't want to just disappear. He couldn't, because Emily deserved better than that. Deserved better than him. There was no way anyone could love a disgusting creature like him.
"Get out of here!" he yelled desperately as another shudder rocked his entire frame.
That only seemed to have the opposite effect.
"No! Why are you being so selfish? You don't have to be a hero, Sam. You don't have to do this alone. I love you...and I know you love me, too."
He didn't believe her. He hated her so much in that moment and for a few horrifying seconds, everything was red, hot and burning; the heat was so intense, it felt as if someone had set his very bones on fire. The anger completely consumed him-he hated her for being so stubborn. He hated her for being so brave, so gentle, so helpful, so thoughtful...so Emily when here he was doing everything he could to break her heart. He hated her for not running away...for not believing him when he told her that he didn't love her. He hated her for saying that she loved him no matter what...it hurt too much.
Yes, in that moment he hated her so much...but loved her all the more for it all because she was right: he really did love her more than life itself.
He couldn't stop it...
He felt himself slipping...
Sam turned to her in that last moment, reaching desperately for her face-he had to push her away quickly...
But he didn't get a chance.
"I don't care what's wrong with you, Sam. I love you, regardless."
He felt his body explode and he watched-absolutely terrified-as the claws in his still extended silver paw sliced through Emily's face and down her chest; tearing the very skin from her bones. He panicked when she fell to the ground, unconscious, blood pouring from her deep wounds.
‘What have I done...?'
He tried to scream at her to wake up, to move, to do something...anything to show him that she was still alive, but his begging only came out as some sort of hideous yowling. She needed immediate attention, or she'd die...
He reached for her again, unthinkingly...and yelped when his blood-drenched paw came into view. He knew this was going to happen! He should've just left...he'd just about killed the women he loved and all because he wanted to say goodbye. Billy had told him weeks ago to get as far away from her as possible but Sam hadn't listened, and now he was paying the worst price possible for giving into his selfishness-he would have to sit here and watch her die and all because he couldn't change back to help her...all because he just couldn't let her go...
He could've killed himself right there and then.
He kept barking, nudging her gently with his nose...licking her skin...all in hopes she would respond...
It was soft, barely audible...but he heard her groan, voice whisper quiet. "Sam...I'm sorry..."
Why the hell was she the one apologizing?
His eye's shot up to see two kids running up the path, and his sharp eyes could see who they were through the dark-Embry and Paul. As soon as he boys saw him, though, they froze in their tracks; the same, horrified expressions flitting across their faces, just like Emily before them.
"Crap, stop!" Embry shouted, throwing his arm out in front of Paul. "It's a bear!"
"Emily! Are you alright?" Paul shouted, voice panicked.
"Dude, I don't think she's moving..." Embry said this time in genuine alarm, voice shaking.
‘I can't watch anymore...'
He really was a monster. He really was repulsive. There was no doubt he'd go straight to hell for this...
But at least Emily would be alright...
He ran as fast as his legs could take him through the forest-the trees flying by in a black mass. He wanted to get as far away as possible in as little time as possible so he couldn't hear Embry anymore...so he couldn't hear Emily apologizing for lying in a pool of her own blood, life draining away with ever second that passed. He would have killed himself right there and then if it would an ounce of good for anybody. But it was too late - his ears were too sensitive. He wanted to rip out his ear drums, but it was too late-the words had already reached him. Embry's voice saturated with pity, rang in a torturous loop in Sam's head...
"Don't worry, Emily. Sam will come back to you."
x x x
"She wants to be one of them..."
"Does she know that'll start a war?"
"I knew she was a backstabber! What a leech lover..."
"It's about time! I can't wait to rip their throats out!"
Emily watched the boys heatedly discuss the possibility of a war and naturally began to panic. The whole concept of them fighting with numerous vampires sounded even more dangerous than the five of them hunting only one vampire. Everyone seemed enthusiastic and confident about the prospect, save Jacob and Sam. Sam was thoughtful as always, weighing up the pros and cons of their actions, naturally hesitant about jumping into a conflict with their enemies without any kind of proof. And Jake was...
Jake was heartbroken, torn. Emily watched her adopted son anxiously run his huge palms over his cropped hair, eyes grieving. She felt sorry for him-it was bound to happen. She knew it would. But she found that she couldn't be as angry at Bella as she wanted to be. The anger just wouldn't come...and she knew exactly why. It was because, over a year ago, she'd been put in exactly the same position as Bella...and made exactly the same decision.
Sam had tried to break up their relationship because he thought he was a monster...because he loved her. And she'd run straight back into his arms without a second thought, despite everyone's objections. Nobody could find Sam for an entire fortnight after the incident, and her friends and family had simply assumed that he had just cold-bloodedly dumped her and then wanted nothing more to do with her, even though he would've known of her serious condition by then. It was-emotionally-the worst pain she'd ever had to endure. No amount of anesthetic or painkillers could stop the aching hole where her heart had once been.
Edward, she knew, was exactly the same.
And as much as she disliked the vampires, (they had started all of this, after all-they were the reason Sam and his Brothers were suffering) how could she fault Edward and the rest of the Cullens for wanting to protect Bella exactly the way Sam had tried to protect her? How could she fault Bella for running back to Edward when she had made the same decision herself? And if changing Bella into a vampire meant that she could be with Edward truly, (honestly, Emily couldn't see how Edward hadn't accidentally killed her already) was that such a bad thing? Would she have turned into a werewolf if that's what it took to be with Sam? Undoubtedly. She didn't even have to think about it...so how could she blame them?
She couldn't. And she hated that.
This war that would start...and Emily knew it would, there was no avoiding it. She knew that this war would now solely depend on when-and not if Bella would become a vampire. This wouldn't just be a war of physical strength and prowess; it would be a war of emotions-she could taste them already. Love, jealousy, betrayal, heartache...it was all inevitable.
It was strange, but only now did she see how similar Sam and Edward were. She knew that they both would never agree to it though. She turned to look at Jacob once more; he was still suffering...behind that business mask he was using for their discussion, he was hurting badly.
‘You did all you could for her, Jake...but you could never have fixed her completely...'
For now, though, there was a fragile peace still in place. But Emily knew that if it was going to stay that way...for Jacob to recover even slightly, somehow, Bella would have to talk to Jake again. Somehow, just like Sam and Edward...
...Bella would have to come back.