Rip Tide: A Twilight Fanfiction

Chapter Four: Where is My Mind

I floated in a dreamless void. There were voices echoing faintly in the dark, as they spoke in hushed tones.

"How is she?"

"Not that great...Carlisle, what happened to her?"

"She has no memory of the massacre. We're not sure—"

"That's not what I meant. Edward won't tell me what happened at the station. He's acting...weird."

There was a long pause. "Jacob tried to kill her."

"What!?"

"Bella, please, stay here. The Packs are upset with us for protecting her. If you go confront Jacob, you'll just rile them up even more."

"Okay, okay...you're right," Bella sighed. "She's hurting, Carlisle. You have to help her."

"I'll do everything I can."

"She's not just some girl. She's like Renesmee. Having her around will help..."

"I know," Carlisle assured her softly. "You don't have to worry, alright? I'll do everything in my power to help her remember."

Me; the voices were talking about me. With a soft moan, I rolled over—and fell to the floor with a thud. The glorious plush white carpet cushioned the blow, like landing on a pile of marshmallows. Even then, my bruised and aching body throbbed. "Ouch," I groaned miserably.

"Ah, I see you're awake," came Carlisle's voice from the doorway. Seeing me on the floor, he frowned. "Are you alright?"

Help me, I've fallen and can't get up. I was going to say it, but he probably would have taken me seriously. Sarcasm was a bit lost with these old vampires. 

"I'm good," I replied, trying not to wince as I pushed onto my hands and knees. I had to be careful not to put weight on my fractured wrist. He moved to my side anyway, taking hold of my elbow to help me stand.

Without really thinking, I ripped out of his grasp. The touch of his cold hand brought last night's awful nightmare to mind. Nightmare...was that what it was? Just something my subconscious had conjured up? I felt his eyes on me, but refused to look up. Part of me was afraid I'd see those horrible black eyes. Since the moment we had met, Carlisle had been nothing but kind, despite my belligerence. None of that changed how he filled me with inexplicable dread. 

"How are you feeling?" Carlisle asked, keeping his hands to himself this time.

After taking a breath, I dared to look up at him. His eyes weren't demonic black, but that captivating gold. Warm like the sun. "I feel like shit," I replied honestly.

Carlisle raised his eyebrows at my language, but seemed more amused than offended. Fighting back a smirk, he said, "Sorry to hear that. Perhaps after breakfast you'll feel better. Alice and Esme are preparing some food for you as we speak."

On cue, my stomach growled. The hunger hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. Hearing this, Carlisle chuckled and started for the door.

"Whenever you're ready, feel free to come downstairs," he said, before leaving me some privacy to make myself decent.

I watched him go, still unsure how to feel about him. At that moment, the nightmare was a vague memory. Whatever it meant, I decided to shrug it off, at least until I had some food. Quickly, I went to the private bathroom connected to my guest bedroom. 

There were a few different face washes, with different scents and textures. I grimaced at the strawberry-scented one, half tempted to toss it into the trashcan. Yeah, no thanks.