wild ↣ p. lahote

xvii. give me time

AURORA GRABBED HER backpack and quickly shoved her books inside of it. She had to get out of there. She'd been so strong and brave the whole day. She'd put on such a strong façade and even convinced herself for a short time that she would be okay without Emmett. But she'd been wrong. Aurora couldn't stay there any longer— her heart was shattering more and more every extra second that Emmett wasn't there teasing her or laughing at her or hugging her or kissing her.

Aurora shut her locker and hurried to the front doors of the school. She was willing to walk the long walk home if it meant that she wouldn't be stuck inside that prison of a school without Emmett by her side. As she walked outside, Aurora suddenly noticed the heavy rain. And of course that was the one day Aurora had forgotten her umbrella. The rain pounded on her, falling so quickly and forcefully from the sky that it felt like it was physically pushing her down. Aurora let loose a sob as she hurried across the parking lot and onto the road. Emmett was gone. Edward was gone. Alice and Jasper and Rosalie were gone. Carlisle and his fatherly gaze and Esme and her warm smile were gone. They were all gone.

Aurora felt her sobs rack her body. She could barely even hear her cries over the howling of the wind that was racing around her. The rain beat at her, mixing with her tears and soaking her through her clothes and straight to the bone. Her loose hair whipped around, slashing her face and feeling like small knives.

But Aurora didn't care. She barely even noticed the horrid weather. All of her attention was focused on her emptiness. On the hollowness in her heart and the aching she felt all throughout her body. She'd never thought she could feel this way over a boy— she was always that strong girl who would never cry over a boy. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't physically stop the tears from streaming out of her eyes like gushing waterfalls. Aurora suddenly understood why it was called heartbreak— her heart physically felt like it'd been beaten with a hammer and dragged through the mud. She felt so pathetic, so feeble and wretched and pitiful.

Aurora was so focused on trying to walk in a straight line that she didn't even notice the red truck pull up behind her until it honked at her. Jumping, Aurora looked up and saw Bella sitting in her truck, driving slowly to keep pace with Aurora.

"What are you doing?" Bella called. "Get in here!"

Aurora mindlessly felt her legs carry her around the front of the truck and up into the passenger's seat. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned backwards against the seat, letting out a loud cry of despair.

"Rora! Rora, what's wrong?" Bella exclaimed, quickly pulling over to the side of the road and shutting off the engine. She turned to Aurora, who had buried her face in her hands and was racking with sobs.

"He's... gone!" Aurora wailed between her sobs. She lifted her head and looked through bleary eyes at Bella, but she couldn't make out her friends face. Her tears were clouding her eyes over so much that everything looked like it was underwater.

But her ears remained perfectly in working order, and they caught a sob escape Bella's throat.

She was crying, too.

"Oh, Bella, they're gone!" Aurora cried, scooting across the seat and throwing her arms around Bella. Bella was the only other soul in the world who knew how Aurora felt— so desolate and miserable that the angels wept alongside her. Bella was the only other one who could possibly understand the grief and emptiness and complete and utter despair that Aurora felt clawing away at her.

Bella didn't hug Aurora back, but she did burrow her face into the crook of Aurora's neck and start crying. And there they sat, the two teenage girls letting out so much grief and despair that they felt sure they'd never be able to feel anything again.