Wide awake

Chapter Thirty Eight. Persimmon Rest In Pieces

E.P.OV

It's three a.m. according to the alarm clock that was glowing green at me from my bedside table. Monday, March first, and I could hear the wind fucking howling outside the house as I clutched the pillow at my side.

I'll remember this morning and this exact time with perfect clarity in the future. I'll be standing on a street somewhere, or driving in my car, or sitting in English class next to the smelly motherfucker who never brings a pen, and I'll be utterly capable of recalling this precise moment without effort, despite any circumstance.

It wasn't because it was the first day of the month, or the day my Economy project was due. Not because only six hours earlier I had spoken to Carlisle in the kitchen for the first time in a week, and it was a mere "fuck you" that made him all sad yet hopeful. Not because it was six days until my birthday, and not even because I could finally go to school in four hours and see my girl after the long weekend.

I’d remember it because it was the first night I slept without my girl.

I'll remember falling asleep at midnight, and waking up three hours later in my dark room to the most horrifically vivid dream I had ever encountered in my entire fucking life. I'll remember instinctively hugging the pillow that still held the faint scent of flowers and cookies. I'll remember the way I fucking shook and dug my nails into it like it could keep me in the present and drive away the past.

I had caught a couple hours on Wednesday afternoon, during the day after I got home from school. I could almost still feel her warmth on me from where I held her in the halls, and I figured it would make it easier as I collapsed onto my bed lifelessly. I was a little cocky maybe, thinking perhaps they wouldn't come back after so long. As if my mind had simply been conditioned to just... not do it after so many peaceful nights.

Which was fucking bullshit.

My mind was incapable of 'conditioning'. And even though the dream on Wednesday afternoon was... unseemly... it didn't result in this.

Me lying sweaty and alone in my bed with the sheets tangled in my legs as I roughly shoved the pillow into my face with a muffled, frustrated sob. I weakly inhaled the lingering smell of Bella as I held it to my face, and fought to calm my breathing and tremors. It had been too long, and even though all of the long nights of love and affection with my girl were precious to me, they made me so goddamn soft. Obliterated the tough exterior shell my mind had created for the memories. It was right on the surface, invading my composure until I was forced into numbness.

The numbness I could handle, but I knew from experience it would get old fast.

I thrashed my feet free of the sheets and finally sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and just fucking sitting there in the darkness with my chest heaving while I roughly rubbed at my face with a palm. Wet and sticky with sweat and tears. I hated crying. It was so fucking weak, and it just made my eyes heavier, which was not something I needed.

There was only one thing I could do. The same thing I always did when something like this happened. I stood up, and didn't even bother turning on the lamp as I threw on my jacket and went to the balcony doors. I stared at my hand trembling on the handle for a moment before I pushed it open and stepped out into the grey night. The wind was still howling, blowing loose leaves across the back yard below me in furious torrents as I lit a cigarette and leaned back against the railing. My eyes instinctively went to one place whenever I came out at night.

Bella's window next door.

I had to move to the farthest corner of the balcony to bring it into view, so I sat down with my back to the railing, facing the house, while I gazed at it curiously. Black. It was always black, which confused me because the dark had to just make shit worse for her. It also made it fairly fruitless for me to bring her all of my books at school last week. I was hoping it might give her something to keep her occupied while she was alone in there. We never had the chance for complete privacy, so I could never gauge how she was really dealing with it. I hoped the closet door being hidden helped, but I had no way of knowing.