Witches' Whisper ||p.l.||

5

I woke up with a tightness in my chest, the air around me feeling unusually heavy. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window, but even the warmth couldn't penetrate the strange unease that had settled deep within me. I stretched, but it didn't help; the sensation that something was missing was still there, gnawing at me.

This restlessness had been constant all weekend—an anxious energy that I couldn't shake. The vision from Friday, the one with the werewolf boy, Embry, was disturbing enough, but now it felt like there was something more personal at play, something I couldn't quite explain.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I gripped the edge of the mattress and stared blankly at the wall. There was a hollow feeling in my chest, like a part of me had been misplaced. It didn't make sense, but it was the best way I could describe it.

"Get it together," I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. It was Monday, a new school day at Forks High, and I needed to act normal. Whatever weirdness had taken root inside me could wait. Bella still needed me, and my life couldn't just grind to a halt because of this inexplicable sensation and the persistent heaviness in my chest.

In the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent lights revealed the exhaustion etched into my features. My usually vibrant green eyes looked dull, their spark seemingly extinguished. I splashed cold water on my face, but it did little to clear the fog clouding my mind. Every movement felt deliberate, as though I was wading through an invisible layer of something unsettling.

Dressed quickly in my usual outfit—light blue jeans, a white turtleneck, and a hoodie—I fumbled with the laces of my Converse. The familiarity of my clothes did little to comfort me; I felt clumsy and out of sync. As I tugged the sleeves down over my hands, I thought about Friday again—about Paul. The memory of our encounter flashed through my mind, and my heartbeat quickened. Ugh, not again.

The intensity of locking eyes with him had been electric. It was as if a jolt had shot through me, leaving me dizzy and breathless. But that connection had left me more confused than ever. I didn't know Paul, yet I felt an inexplicable pull toward him that defied all logic.

Was this why I felt so out of place this weekend? Because of him? I didn't know, but I was determined to find out, sooner or later.

I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. I didn't have time to unravel whatever was going on with Paul. I had more pressing concerns—like surviving another day of school while Bella remained wrapped in her grief, lost and wandering through life in a daze. If nothing else, I needed to be strong for my stepsister.

I hurried down the stairs and grabbed my bag from the entryway. In the kitchen, Mom was already sipping her morning tea, her dark green eyes studying me with an intensity that made me pause.

"You slept better last night?" Kirsty asked, raising an eyebrow.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, sort of." It was a lie, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her about Paul. Not when I didn't fully understand what was happening or why. My dreams had been restless, shadowed by the same gnawing feeling that followed me into my waking hours. The last thing I wanted was for her to worry.

Kirsty didn't seem entirely convinced but let it go, giving me a small nod before returning to her tea. "Well, if you need anything—"

"I know," I cut in softly. "Thanks, Mom."

I grabbed a piece of toast on my way out, offering a quick wave as I stepped outside into the cool Forks morning. The damp air clung to my skin as I made my way to Bella's old truck. The familiar rumble of the engine broke the silence as I climbed in.

Bella, as expected, was quiet beside me. She barely acknowledged me, her brown eyes distant as she stared out the window. I tried to fill the silence with mindless chatter, but my words fell flat, and soon enough, I let the quiet settle. There was no use trying to force Bella to engage when she was like this, and frankly, I didn't feel like chatting today anyway.