The Inevitable

Chapter 3 Reflections

Edward sat in class looking at the wall. This is how he spent most hours of the day. Here at school he sat in his chair staring at the wall. At home he lay on the couch looking at the wall, filling the room with loud music trying desperately to block some of the thoughts away. It never worked.

He had spent the last seventy five years thinking of her. Wondering what kind of life she had lived. Wondering if she had gone and had a family, children. If she had loved someone else. He had restrained himself thousands of times from checking on her, knowing that it would only lead to seeing her again, and that wasn't something he thought he could do.

The first year had been the worst, when he had known, or at least had thought he had known, that she was still in Forks. When he knew exactly where she was and that he could just go and at least look in on her. But he knew that he would never just look; that he would go to her, and he had been convinced that would be the most devastating thing to her life.

As the years went on it had been slightly easier, since he had no idea where she might be. He was pretty sure she wouldn't have stayed in Forks. But he still thought about her constantly, every minute that went by. He wished every day that her life was happy and full, and that she had truly moved on. As painful as it was to imagine her with anyone else, he didn't want her to be sad and alone; he didn't want her to be like him.

There was one particular time, just months after he had left, when he decided he was going to go back, that he just couldn't take it anymore. But soon after he decided he had passed a family on the street. The woman slightly resembled Bella, not nearly as beautiful, at least to him, but she had the same build, the same long dark hair. She had a few children with her, and her husband. And instantly his mind flashed to a picture of Bella with a husband, a family, children. He imagined her with the life he so desperately wanted her to have. And he had gone back and crawled into whatever hole he was in at the time, until he had absolutely convinced himself that what he was doing was right, and that he couldn't go back. His heart felt torn to pieces every minute of every day. He was just this empty shell that was full of thoughts of Bella. He spent years just losing himself in memories of her. He closed his eyes and remembered the touch of her soft skin, the deep blush of her cheeks. He remembered the soft brown color of her eyes. And he remembered the smell, the wonderful smell that brought out everything in him, both beast and man; physical pain, and physical longing.

Those were the things he had thought of endlessly for the last seventy five years. They were the slowest of his existence, full of pain and anguish. And now he was still only a shell, full of thoughts of her. But now he thought of his beautiful Bella dying at the young age of eighteen. Of her only having a few short months of life after he left her. He thought of someone hurting her, of taking her life. And anguish he thought could never get any worse consumed him and intensified beyond belief. He thought of hundreds of different ways he could have prevented it. He knew it was his fault; he would not lie to himself by calling it anything but what it was. When he thought of her life, a life he thought he had been giving her, being ripped away, he thought he might burst. If he wasn't positive whoever had done this to her was not already dead themselves he knew he would spend every moment hunting them down. But now he was here, he knew; and he could do nothing. His precious Bella was gone, and there was nowhere to go from there. Of course, logically he had figured she was already passed. But he thought it had happened after she led a nice, full life.

He had made plans long ago that once he knew Bella was gone he would soon follow. But seventy five years of constant thought had deterred him from that. And now, here with his family, he was convinced still that he couldn't go that way. He couldn't stand to cause anyone any more pain. He felt like his existence had only been comprised of inflicting pain on loved ones; and he just couldn't do that to his family, to those he knew loved him so much. A love he didn't deserve.

So he had been trying. He knew that he would never be able to pretend to be happy. But he pretended to not be completely miserable, at least for the little time he spent with them. He owed them that; he owed them so much. He had to give them something.

But the times he was alone he spent swallowed in a hole that was full of Bella. Sometimes his memories, and sometimes horrifying ideas of what had happened to her. It was a terrible existence. But one he knew he deserved.

And so he didn't try to push the pain away. Because he knew that, with everything he had done, everything he had caused, this was what his life was to be.