Two Wrongs Don't Equal a Right
Despite her efforts to keep the visions of Bella at bay, one slips through and then they assault her with a fury. So when she decides to act, it's just for self-protection, because a few more of these and she may go crazy... At least that's what she'll tell Edward in her defense. I CHANGED SOMETHINGS RECENTLY PLEASE RE-READ CHAPTERS 6&7 AND NOTE THAT THEY HAVE SWITCHED; ALONG WITH THE ADDITION TO CHPTER 7!!
6. The Morning After
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1336 Review this Chapter
The Morning After
Bella's Point of View
Mornings had become a struggle within the past week, it was one of those gradual changes that you don’t notice in the process, that surprises you only once the transformation has been completed. I still awoke screaming at least once every night, but the dreams had intensified and the sleep that came after them, in the pre-dawn hours of the mornings was deep, dark and dreamless.
Before the dreams had been horrible, but sleep had still been involved, now they were just as mentally and physically taxing as being awake and so, by the time I fell back asleep my body was so tired that dreams couldn’t pierce my final few hours of oblivion.
This morning was like all the others, it was a struggle to pull open closed lids and emerge from the stark black of dreamless sleep.
It didn’t help that I had no real motivation to wake up, this black oblivion was so much easier than the living world, it was simply me, floating in space. Feelings couldn’t find purchase in the nothingness, it was a few blissful hours of freedom from the demons that ate me alive. It was novocaine on a tooth that runs out five minutes into the dental procedure.
Dragging myself out of bed and into the shower was hard, finding the energy in my drained body to move once in the streaming hot water was even harder. It was amazing even to me when I somehow managed to work the tuber rose scented shampoo and condition into my hair and wash them out respectively.
By the time I had wrapped myself in a towel and staggered back into my room my vision was sharpening, though still a bit bleary, and awareness was slowly working it’s way through into my limbs and my fingers and toes. The blast of cold air from my open window snapped me into an awake state so quickly the room spun in a vague vertigo.
I back into the wall, the shivering from the cold outside air transforming into quivering and then to downright shaking as fear soaked into me veins and knowledge made my head hurt. This was it then, I would go down fresh from the shower, my hair still sending beads of water running down my back, wrapped in a faded blue towel.
I could feel the smile pulling at my cold cheeks, feel the relief that spread through my chest, and into my limbs, this was it. I couldn’t see her, of course, couldn’t smell her with my dull human senses, but it didn’t take vampire intelligence to put two and two together.
And I was so glad, it was wrong of me, sick, but then I knew I was sick, I was damaged. This was the final release, not the novocaine but the end of the procedure, this was standing up from the chair and leaving the dentists’s office. This was an ending to the pain.
But I would refuse to go down in a towel, I dropped my towel, all modesty swept from my mind in my urgency to die in some kind of decency. It occurred to me right then that one of the last things I would ever do was pull on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Nothing heroic or powerful, I wouldn’t die for a cause. I would simply expire, at the hand of revenge.
I walked to the window on shaking knees and closed it, my eyes half open and my jaw clenched, waiting, waiting.
The next gust of freezing breeze I assumed was not natural, that was the breeze her movement would have caused, nas she pulled to a halt right in front of me, I squeezed my eyes shut.
Waiting, waiting, waiting. Another breeze, and another, far more than she could have generated by herself, and my stomach dropped as the realization struck that she had brought help. That it was not just her but her and her friends.
"Just do it please, the wait is killing me, the anticipation slipping under my skin and eating me alive, the sword above my head is swinging but I want it to just fall already." I was murmuring, asking, not begging yet, for the end. The wait dragged on and on, the anticipation sharpening all sensation, and more and more gusts of air assualted my skin.
My eyes shot open, and I had finally cracked, I couldn't wait any longer, whenever I went to get vaccinations I had to look at the needle first, it made it harder, knowing the size of what was about to pierce my skin, but I had to look at the needle.
There was nothing there, no flaming red hair or burgundy eyes holding my own gaze, no legions of bloodthirsty companions. Simply my bed, with it's mussed sheets, my desk, the computer's screen saver twisting across it's face, my rocking chair, creaking eerily in the constant breeze.
I rotated slowly, to look at the window I had closed, and saw, now that panic no longer blinded me, now that the fear had become resignation and no longer blurred my vision, the ragged edge that ran along the perimeter of the window frame. I slid a finger along the broken edge, watching detached, as small droplets of blood bloomed on tip. I turned back into the room, raised the bloody finger to my lips and sucked gently, my head spinning from nausea.
My heart thrumming in a twisted kind of disappointment, I let my finger drop from my lips. I remembered now, the previous night’s intermission, what had happened after the most vivid nightmare yet and before the deep sleep had seized me.
My hand reached around to prob the back of my head, I was unsurprised to find the cantaloupe sized bump that was, along with the broken window, the only physical evidence of last night’s little foray into the painful frightening.
Except, I scanned the floor, vaguely remembering something else, it had been after the collision, and so the details were more than a little bit fuzzy but I was sure there was something else. Something important.
Shaking my head, my face a mask of confusion I walked across the room at my usual slow pace, hoping for the memory to be revived by the action. It was revived, in a painful way that left me hopping precariously on one foot and staring at the hardwood floor, my features twisted in shock.
One of the boards, which had been there for as long I had been, which I had meandered over, fallen on, crawled across so many times was loose and on a rampage. I sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the tender padding of my foot and simply looked at it, it stuck up ward at an angle, maybe rising a good three inches from the sea of other boards.
As the pain in my foot died I slid of the bed to kneel on the floor, then crawled over the few feet to sit right next to it. I pulled on it, straining with the remaining nail or two, it shot up a long splinter lodging itself in the pad of my thumb. I hastily stuck my thumb in my mouth, my eye brows furrowing at the sharp stab of pain. Then I was looking at the space where the board had been, which should have been empty but for a few cobwebs but, wasn’t.
Breath lodged itself in my throat, chocking me as I stared down into the small bunch of objects. My thumb fell from my lips, splinter forgotten. I blinked once slowly, then reached my hand out towards the treasure trove, finger trembling. A single tear worked it’s way down my cheek as my intestines, my lungs, my heart exploded.
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