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Note: The summary has been changed. I thought it was A) too short, B) too revealing, and C) not descriptive enough. So here I have a better summary that reveals less, yet describes more. The last one sort of gave it away, and people didn't want to read it because they knew exactly what the story was about. So now I changed it, and here it is. She leaves him for another. He's forced to start over in a new town, at a new school. He's positive he can never love again. She loses her mother in a terrible homicide. She's forced to pick up the peices and try to live again. She's positive that the hole in her heart will never be filled. When the two heartbroken pessimists meet, they notice that the other is strangely detatched, and horribly sad. Neither can figure our what made the other so bitter, until they open up. After all they have been through, can they learn to trust again? Can they learn to start over? Can they learn to forget those that hurt them? Most importantly, can they learn to love again? Chapter One has been rewritten. The story line is completely different, yet somewhat the same.


4. Chapter 3: Reminders

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1479   Review this Chapter


I slammed the door on my way in. Alice looked up from a book in the living room, but I turned and ran up the stairs and to my room. Yet another door slammed shut in my wake, and I was left in darkness.

The heavy shades on my windows blocked out the light like a brick wall. I hadn’t turned on the light on my way in, so it was now black as pitch. And that was the way I liked it.

Sitting down in the darkest corner, I curled up into a ball and let the memories have me. Stifling them the whole day was hard enough, but at home where there were constant little reminders of her was just too much.

I remembered the first day I brought her to see my family. I remembered when Esme asked me to play my piano for her. When I played her song, and how it brought her to tears.

I remembered in thee hospital, when I promised her I would never leave. And then I recalled leaving her in the woods that fateful night. I remembered when, months later, Rosalie called to tell me she had killed herself.

I remembered in Italy, just as I was about to do the same, when she saved me. I remembered the joy I felt to know that Rosalie was wrong.

I remembered when she agreed to marry me.

I also remembered when she left, and I watched her go.

Burying my face in my hands, I wished for the memories to go away. To just go away and leave me be. All I wanted was to forget.

A quiet knock from the door made me look up. “Edward, I have mail for you.” Alice thought with chagrin. For some reason, she seemed to be dreading it.

“Just leave it. It’s probably just junk,” I said. I heard her flinch from my tone and cry softly.

“Edward,” he voice broke, “it’s important.”

After a while, she gave up waiting for me and slid the manila envelope under the door. From my corner, I could read the return address: Isabella Swan, 79 Alder Street, La Push ,WA98350.

Just seeing that name sent tremors through me.

Slowly – agonizingly – I inched my way over to the envelope. The sound of it sliding against the hardwood was loud in the darkness, and the metal tab gleamed menacingly. I pried the tabs up easily with my fingers, and opened the flap.

Inside was a packet of papers – one was a handwritten letter, and the rest were legal documents of some sort. My eyes scanned the letter first.

Dearest Edward,

I regret having to send this to you. I honestly didn’t want it to end up this way, and I surely didn’t want to do this. I would rather have done this in person, but we couldn’t afford plane tickets to Maryland.

I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that Jacob is taking very good care of me. If you didn’t notice by the change in address, I’ve moved in with him in La Push. Charlie was more than happy to help me pack my bags.

I hate to tell you this way, but I know I have to do it somehow. I wasn’t sure if you’d like to be invited or not, but you can come if you like. If you don’t I understand.

Forgive me – I haven’t even told you yet.

This is harder than I imagined, expressing my regrets in words. I’ve gone through several drafts just to get this right, and I still don’t know how to say this. Well, here goes.

Jacob has asked me to marry him. I accepted.

That was easier than I thought. I hope you will forgive me for leaving, but I know you told me to be happy. Well, I am happy. Happier than I think I’ve ever been.

Like I said, I would like you to come to the wedding, and have enclosed an invitation. I figured that, since you invited Jacob to our wedding, that I could only return the favor. I would be really happy if you came, Edward.

Also enclosed are the divorce papers. Please fill them out and send them back in the white envelope I have included. I already wrote the address, so all you have to do is write yours and put the papers in.

I’m sorry.



I crumpled the note in my hands and threw it at the opposite wall before curling up in my own misery.


No one spoke to me as I picked up my bag and left the house. No one tried to follow me to the bus stop, or attempt to pull me from my anguish. No one bothered me.

On the bus, no one sat beside me. Something in my expression told them to leave me be, and they did so. For the first time in forever, I was able to block out the annoying buzz of thoughts in my mind and keep my own thoughts empty and blank.

In first period, I entered the classroom and sat beside Ravyn, who had beaten me and the other students to class. I dropped my bag on the floor and stared out the window at the cloudy day. When the teacher began the lesson, I didn’t pay attention, or even look away from the window. Vaguely, I heard her go over what the first reading assignment was – Romeo and Juliet – and what we would be doing for the next two weeks. One by one, she passed out books.

She sat my copy on my desk and I looked away from the window to glare at the book. It was battered and tattered, with pages falling out. Someone had drawn mustaches on the illustration of Romeo and Juliet on the cover, and gouged out Juliet’s eyes with a blue pen.

“You know, I’ve never had much patience with Romeo.”

“What’s wrong with Romeo?”

“Well, first of all, he’s in love with this Rosaline – don’t you think it makes him seem a little fickle? And then, a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet’s cousin. That’s not very brilliant. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly?”

She sighed. “Do you want me to watch this alone?”

“No, I’ll probably be watching you, anyway. Will you cry?”

“Probably – if I’m paying attention.”

My fingers clenched the table as I struggled to pull myself out of my memories. Ravyn was watching me, wondering if I was having a seizure or something. I picked up the vile book and dropped it into my bag, forgetting it entirely.

I forced myself to look around the room to keep my mind blank. The teacher was scrawling something on the board as students tapped their pencils on the desks impatiently. The only other person besides Ravyn and I in the back row, Amber, was fiddling with a package of cigarettes under the desk. Beside me, Ravyn shifted uncomfortably in her chair and crossed her legs.

She withdrew into her jacket until all that was seen was her face and her spiky dark hair. Her muscles were tense and defensive, and she was scribbling furiously on a blank sheet of lined paper. If possible, she tensed further as she felt my gaze on her. She looked up and laid her emerald green eyes on mine.

I gasped silently when I saw her face.

Her eyes were the same bright green, but now blood-shot and blotchy. Her lips were formed into a permanent frown. On her right cheek, where there had once been clear, pale skin, there was a round angry, purple bruise.

When she noticed what I had noticed, she looked down, ashamed.

The rest of the day, I tried to block the image from my mind. I tried not to assume, but I knew. And she knew that I knew.

I was fairly positive that her bruise wasn’t an accident. People didn’t just get bruises like that from falling, or whatever her excuse was.

And then, Carlisle’s words echoed in my mind. “I try my best to help people to make up for what I am. I feel that if I use my abilities for good, then I won’t be so bad anymore.

Why did I care?

I was probably jumping to some irrational conclusion; she had probably fallen, or had an accident or something or other. I didn’t know her, and we hadn’t talked. It wasn’t like I could just ask her. Besides, I had other things to worry about.