Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Seventeen

The picture is Salt Creek Beach in Port Angeles. You'll see why it's relevant later on. 

The butcher knife soon became my best friend, going everywhere I went, along with its accomplice, the smallest kitchen knife. In four days all the rooms of the cottage had been painted, and the electrician was coming around soon to connect the lights to the dangling wires that made some of the rooms look like a mental asylum.

In result of the longer hours of the sun appearance, I would wake early- not wanting to spend another ghastly minute at the house- and come back at nine pm-ish. The various workers on the site, who were only now painting the exterior of the house and fixing the balcony, and the calm atmosphere had helped numb the fear, mourning and heartbreak, but as soon as I arrived back at the house- expecting Dad to be there- everything would come flooding back.

I recently noticed that from the attic window in the cottage, which a door in the bedroom led to, I could see the Cullen house, just the peak the roof and the windows of Edward's bedroom. I couldn't see anything inside the windows but just knowing it was close, made me yearn to go and see it.

I was living with the loss of everyone I loved, with the house reminding me of Charlie, the yellow kitchen was Mom, and everywhere, every single aspect, for Edward. Something so simple like the metal of a building tool would remind me of Edward's metallic hair colour, the rare blue sky would be the same color of the blouse I received a compliment from him, wildflowers around the cottage flashed a memory of the meadow, or the particular notes on the piano that were the same as my lullaby, which would nearly bring me to tears. Edward was everywhere I looked.

As I didn't have any furniture, apart from Dad's, to put in the cottage, a much-needed visit to Port Angeles had me rushing over, wanting to buy things for the living room, study, bedroom, and furnishings for both the kitchen and bathroom. 

The bathroom and kitchen furniture were ordered online from Seattle and were to be delivered next week- even though, I had only seen a picture and details on the internet and talked to the receptionist. I was quite apprehensive about the delivery. 

Bookcases, sofas, rugs, beds, cupboards and curtains were all bought at Port Angeles. They were to be delivered a few days after the kitchen and bathroom stuff. In addition to process, I had started to slowly pack and sell some stuff in the house, resulting in the large furniture being sold quickly, leaving the house with an echo and spider webs. Some of the locals had come to view the house, also, saying that because of the larger size and the no neighbours, they would be interested.

Leaving the last shop empty handed but satisfied, I thought it a bearable day to visit the beaches that I wanted to go to since first coming to Port Angeles with Angela and Jessica. Another painful memory that involved Edward; the night I told him I knew what he was. 

Salt Creek Beach was mesmerising, with the sand was dark but smooth glistening in the dull light as the water surfaced it, the small waves folding around the chipped rocks while the water spat up every so often. The sand was sometimes uplifted by the occasional sharp rock, and I being me, happened to trip over them more than once- leaving my jeans soaked. 

I strode to the back of the beach, away from the wet sand, and sat down near the short marram grass. I was fascinated by the small islands of rock and trees that interrupted the sea's pattern, as I watched how the water lapsed over the trees and then pulled back, how the sun crept through the clouds and I watched a bronze haired man appear in the distance. 

I knew it was him.

His golden eyes were gazing into mine and he wore the crooked smile, jogging over at a relaxed human pace and sitting down beside me, never taking his eyes off me.