Impossible

Winnie: Fully Loaded

Jessica had always worn her heart on her sleeve. Her emotions poured out of her like spilled coffee and staining everything around her. She knew part of the reason why people found her exhausting to be around was that she could not hide how she felt no matter how hard she tried. There was a kind of likability to such transparency, an admiration of honesty, before that like turned to exasperation.

People had told her she was too much. She tried too hard. She cared too much. And when she tried to be less, suddenly she wasn't enough.

She wasn't trying enough. She didn't care enough. And she wondered if she would ever be – just right. Like Goldilocks finding the perfect combination, she would be 'just right' someday.

A fear she tried to bury within her as deep as she could was that she would never be that perfect amount. That she would stay unbalanced, a girl of extremes that would exhaust people to the point they would abandon her. Leave her for better, prettier girls who would always be exactly what people needed. For girls that never had to doubt their worth to people.

Love was terrifying to her. For all her chasing of Mike Newton all these years, she had never really wanted him to love her back. She realized that maybe she had obsessed over him because she knew he was incapable of loving her. The actual reality of being loved felt overwhelming.

She knew it would get worse. That she would struggle harder to be what version of her they loved. Maybe they fell in love with her on the days she got it just right. And it would be worse when they decided to leave her.

Falling in love with Edward Cullen took her by surprise. Not as much as him being vampire but it had been disorienting just the same. He had told her he loved her first and a part of her wanted to believe him so badly. Because if this beautiful boy, this creature of myth, could love her then maybe she wasn't so bad. She could just be herself.

He was hiding in the music room, playing Chopin again. It was the Nocturne piece he played when he was feeling down. She closed the door behind her and took a seat on a chair, content to let him finish. The last note echoed in the room.

She waited for him to speak. He still wouldn't look at her.

"The other night," he said. "I...I almost lost control. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she replied. "It's not your fault."

"It is though. I'm responsible for myself," he returned, firmly. "It doesn't matter what I am. I'm in control of my nature."

She got up and walked to him, standing over him. "Hey. Don't beat yourself up. It's like that scene where Bruce smelled Dory's blood. He's still a nice shark. And he didn't eat her and Marlin so it all worked out."

He shook his head. "This isn't a Pixar film, Jessica. I could've hurt you. You wouldn't have been able to run away or fight me off. I would've torn into your neck before you could even scream."

"But you didn't," she countered. "You stopped yourself."

"This time. What about next time?" He sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair. "If you trip and skin your knee or cut your hand while you're cooking, it takes one mistake and it's over."

"I'll be more careful," she insisted. "I promise."

"We can never be careful enough."

Enough. The word made her heart want to stop beating. Her eyes began to water. She asked, "Why does it feel like you're breaking up with me?"

"It would be for the better," he answered. "You would be safer."

"And happier?" she returned. "Will you be happier without me?"