Life blurs by from the windowpane. Bella remains stagnant in her chair, her eyes never moving from the still glass. Her reflection glistens back at her— tousled brown hair and a dull, expressionless face. The seasons change and the leaves start to bleed off their color. Eventually, they began to fall, and Charlie will try talking to her again, but nothing budges and Bella just can’t snap out of it.
The trees turn barren outside and with it, the sound of faint laughter echoes. It is like watching a sped-up tape; life goes on, it exists with or without her, and the people she once knew merely become strangers from the window of her room. Her life feels sluggish. Like waking up in the morning with bleary eyes from the light of the sun and feeling half-dead. Yet Bella remains in her room as if she were a prisoner.
The nightmares are the worst part. Dreams are supposed to be an escape from reality, but it just reminds her of the past. Every night, Bella wakes up screaming and Charlie will try to hold her, will try to comfort her, but there is no comfort from the pain of heartbreak and pure, uncontrollable fear. It almost feels as if she is burning again as if her skin is on fire and her bloodstream is in pure agony, and every time she glances at her scarred wrist, all she is reminded of is what could have been.
The bite mark mocks her. It is her token of near Death. Her token of the first steps of abandonment from Him. It is her token of humanity. Just a bitter reminder that she is simply human: weak and fragile, and Edward could not handle that. So he left. They all left.
And so life blurs by from the windowpane. Bella cannot help but think how her mortality will one day fade– the seasons will change course over and over– and when she is near the end, Edward will still be young.
She will just be a memory.
♡
“Your mother and I are very concerned for you. This isn’t like you, Bella. And I mean damn you’re worrying us sick.” Charlie leans against the kitchen wall, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Bella can hear the pain in his voice, and for the first time in a while, she realizes how much older he looks.
His black hair is streaked with gray, and there are slight wrinkles denting his forehead. But it is his posture that gets to her the most: Charlie’s shoulders are slagged and she suspects that he is using the bleak-colored walls for support. Briefly, Bella remembers being a child and her father standing proud and tall above her. His hair was fuller, then, and there was no indication of mortality written on his face. The thought of aging is terrifying.
“I’m fine,” she says flatly, crossing her arms.
Charlie just sighs, “You leave us no choice. You’re going to live with your mother.”
These words get to her. “No,” she bursts out. This is the most emotion she has shown in weeks. One single word, and yet, it is full of emotion. It hangs between the two of them: awkward and stiff, but Bella’s message is clear. She blinks, suddenly feeling hot. “I mean- I like it here. I like Forks.” Her fingers idly trace her scarred wrist. It is hidden away beneath the long-sleeved cloth, almost as if it were some dirty secret. Perhaps it is.
Charlie’s hand rubs at his temples, and Bella knows that she is the cause of his headaches. “He’s not coming back, Bella. This isn’t healthy. I mean, it’s been months. Shouldn’t you be getting over it by now?”
Bella briefly flinches. “I’m fine.”
She images Edward’s reflection in the window behind Charlie. His handsome face stares at her, and it’s almost as if he mouths the words, “That’s not convincing, Bella.”
My lie needs to be convincing.
She stands up straighter. “I was going to hang out with Jacob later, actually.” Mentally, she makes a note to actually visit him. It had been months since she had last seen her friend (if she could call him that, their relationship has been rocky since her relationship with Edward); months since she has been herself, and perhaps, like a flower sprouting from the harsh months of winter, it is time to become one with the world again.
Relief washes over Charlie’s face. “You’re hanging out with Jacob later? That’s great, honey, he is such a nice boy–”
“I’m going to be late for school,” she interrupts.
"Yeah... yeah, of course. I'll see you at dinner tonight."
His face full of hopeful glee, and hers being barren like the withering bark of an old pine, they both part ways.
Bella does not head to school. Instead, she finds herself at the edge of the forest, the ghastly trees looming over her. Misty fog glistens, and when she blinks, it almost morphs into something else. Figments of people she once knew. Edward glints in the ominous mist, dissipating with a slight breeze, and when Bella's lips part in a silent question, her brown eyes wide and begging for answers, there is no one there to answer her plea.
Perhaps she is forgetting about him.
(Is this what it is like to be mortal? To love and forget?)
♡
She sits with her back rigidly pressed against bark for ages. Perhaps even hours. Cross-legged and gazing up at the canopy encasing her into the forest. Bella is aware of the dangers that lurk, of predators and monsters dancing in the shadows, but cannot find it in herself to care. Not anymore. Her mind flickers back to the past. To Edward. To Alice. To Rosalie. More often than not, her mind strays to the blonde woman. It confuses her, a frown etched onto her pale face because the two of them had never quite gotten along, but it had been her arms that were wrapped around her when Bella was close to dying. It had been her that had stroked Bella's blood-caked hair, whispering words of comfort into her ear while Edward hung back.
She hadn't had time to process it. It had been a vague memory. All she knows is that she had almost died because of loving Edward, and if that wasn't enough, he decided to leave her after. Is this what love is supposed to feel like? Dreading waking up every day in fear? Edward had promised her forever, something he could live up to, but instead the promise had been abridged into, "I want you to stay safe."
And Jacob had proclaimed his love for her, but his eyes held a possessive glint in their irises, almost as if he thought Bella was a prize to be won. He is too bold. Too complicated and bash. Neither of them understands her. Not in the way Bella needs to be seen.
The wind crackles, a familiarity in it that has Bella snapping her neck up in hope, and before she has time to process all of it, Rosalie Hale is standing in front of her. She looks as youthful as ever. Young like her face sparkling from the hint of sunlight, her golden hair a halo around her. Her eyes glow a dark amber. Lips pursed tightly together, she looks at her in disapproval. "You're going to freeze to death sitting in a forest, Bella." A scoff falls from her lips. "That is if savage wolves or hungry vampires don't get to you first. Seriously, what were you thinking?"
"How did you know I was here?"
It's a stupid question. They both know it. She's been here many times, the few times she's gone outside, and every time it had been pointless; nothing ever came out of it. Until now.
“Do you love him?”
A change of subject. Straight to the point. Rosalie cocks her head to the side as if scrutinizing the way Bella flushes at the question.
“I- of course I do.”
Or is it just the idea of him? Or the trauma?
“Why? He left you Bella. He wasn’t there for you. He abandoned you when you needed him most. Is that what love is now? Abandonment?” Her eyes flash dangerously. Like lightning in a chaotic sky. For some reason, it doesn't scare her.
“And what? You were there for me, then? You all left me. It wasn’t just Edward.” She spits out.
“I’m the one standing in front of you.”
“Why do you care so much? I thought you hated me.”
“Who do you think was watching over you all these months?” Silence. Painful silence for several heartbeats at the revelation. Her heart thrums in her chest, echoing, and Rosalie's eyes flicker down to the sound. She isn't fooling either of them.
“But.. you never liked me.”
"I like you more than you think. I hate that I want to be like you.” She grabs her hand, facing her palm upwards. “I hate that your skin is warm and mine will never experience what it’s like to be alive again.” Rosalie stares into her eyes. “Even your eyes are warm. Everything about you is just so human and I should hate that.” She scoffs. “I did hate that. I was jealous of you. And yet, I can’t stay away from you, Bella. I think that, despite the fact my heart does not beat, you make me feel human. I guess what I mean to say is that I love you. Even though I have been so mean to you.”
Bella stumbles backward. “But what about Edward?” Her temples are aching with the newfound information, and her ghostly skin tinges crimson at the sight of Rosalie staring at her expectantly. Her gaze does not feel predatory like that of the boy she adores. Instead, it feels like… home? She pushes the thought away almost instantly.
“I know you love him.” She sees a flicker of sadness in Rosalie’s eyes. “And he is my brother. I want what’s best for him. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t live without telling you how I feel.”
She contemplates on what to say. What even is there to say? Rosalie loves her. And she loves Edward. Yet, here she is, standing across from the beautiful blonde, her heart fluttering like a butterfly taking its first flight: it’s awkward and uncertain, but after the first flight it’s natural. And when Rosalie hugs her, she shivers. She doesn’t tell her it’s not from the cold (she is bundled up with her coat and scarf). Bella doesn’t tell her a lot of things, and when the vampire suggests she takes her home, she agrees.
And as they leave the forest, the first fall of snow begins.
Bella tries not to read into it. She also tries not to think about how it could be the first of many.