The Dark Side of the Moon

26. Untouchable

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

A little more than a month had gone by since I pushed away the only joy I'd ever felt.

Every day felt like agony, the time slipping by as slowly as cold molasses, drenched in pain.

Without Edward, I was alone, facing the horrific world in worse shape than ever.

He called the house so many times that first night, voicemail after voicemail of distress and confusion, not understanding the sudden change of heart. I didn't blame him— I'd been cruel, and left him the only way I knew would work; I told him the very thing he was most afraid of hearing.

He didn't come to school for several days after that. In fact, I was shocked at all that any of the Cullens were there, but glad all the same that they would continue as if I'd never existed.

I could tell they were upset with me...I could tell that he wouldn't be the same. He waited his whole life for me as I did him, waited decades beyond understanding...I hated myself more than they ever could, thinking endlessly of how to end my misery.

Jessica hadn't bothered me once, probably due to the fact that she was on crutches. They must've confronted her over that weekend after all, and my heart broke further when I found out on Tuesday that they'd stood up for me, only to have me betray their affection brutally.

When Edward did return, he seemed more like a ghost than a living thing, a shell of himself. He tried to talk at first, but grew angry when I wouldn't reply. We didn't talk after that, but avoided each other like the wind, not even looking up when the other was near.

I never went to the lunchroom anymore, choosing to hide in the bathrooms or library instead. I couldn't face them, any of them. I couldn't bare what I'd been forced to do, look betrayal in the eye and survive.

I stopped talking entirely, keeping my head down as I was intended to from the start. I could feel myself wasting away, any weight I'd gained since knowing him gone and then some. Even if I had food, I wouldn't have been able to eat it anyway.

Charlie was satisfied with it all, but took the occasion to grow more relentless than ever in his abuse under the guise that he had to beat any ideas right out of me for good in advance. He wouldn't chance me slipping up like that again.

I could barely function, my body too weak to move much and my mind too foggy to think straight. My grades somehow made it, but only out of the fear imbedded in me by Charlie.

Every day I could feel them looking at me...Alice tried to speak with me so many times that first week, not believing what I'd told him in the slightest. She tried to slip me food, ask how I was, but I couldn't even look at her. I knew they could see me slipping away, and it killed me to notice that they were less angry at me, and more angry that I was unwell. Even Rosalie—whom I'd barely met—reached out, to my surprise. Time marched on relentlessly, and my silence eventually forced them away.

It was better this way.

I hated it.

I knew they watched me every day, could see the thinning of my body, the pain as I walked, never knowing why. I knew they were upset—rightfully so—but beyond from my distance; they were unhappy because I had shut them out completely and was allowing life to take me down like this.

I didn't deserve it.

I wondered daily how long it would be until my body gave out. Would it be better to just give in and end this wasted life sooner? To go according to my own will rather than that of my enemies?