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𝕽𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖙𝖞 - 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖙 𝕹𝖔𝖘𝖈𝖊

𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆

There had been a time when Bella had stood unmoving, unblinking in front of her mirror, trying to picture what she would look like as a vampire. She had held her own gaze, imagining the warm brown of her eyes shifting into something more severe; a striking splash of red amidst the pale white of her skin. In the safety of her room she had stood, perfectly still with her shoulders straight and her head held high, as she tried to envision the light hitting her arm instead reflecting off of it in rainbow prisms that dance with her every movement. On those rare occasions, when Forks was made beautiful by a quick bout of sunshine and Bella had an evening just to herself, she had spent her time like that- soaking up that warmth, and dreaming of a time when she would be like them; a cold one. There had been a time when the vainest, most shallow part of her had looked forward to being as beautiful as Alice and Rosalie - so beautiful that she might finally stand next to Edward and not feel out of place. Like she got involved with him by accident.

She never made mention of it to any of them. And when Edward would return to her an hour or two later, freshly sated and with eyes as golden as the sun, she had felt almost content. 

What had followed after were months of avoiding any and all reflective surfaces wherever possible, now that Edward had left and taken with him her chance at a different life. 

Standing in front of her mirror now, Bella is looking - really looking - for the first time in ages. She holds her breath almost expectantly, but the pain she'd anticipated, craved, doesn't come. Instead the mental image of someone else in her place, someone more beautiful, more capable than she is merely leaves her feeling hollow. Bella wonders if that is a step up from where she was- if the absence of pain is preferable to pain, as it ought to be. It might not be. 

Whenever she dares to meet her own apathetic gaze in the mirror she feels like she is rotting from within, about to cave inward like a spoiled fruit. With every second that trickles by she can feel time catching up with her; A crawling sensation just beneath her skin that has her gasping and quickly facing away. Simultaneously there is an urge to make matters worse; to quicken the process. It feels vaguely like dying- the way she imagines dying to feel like. A cruel sort of death, a slow fade away until there’s nothing left of the girl she used to be, other than the empty husk she used to occupy. To stare into her own eyes is akin to staring into the abyss, a black pit with dark circles framing it, pulling her in; accompanied by timid thoughts of shouldn’t there be something here? A sign of life, of recognition- Shouldn’t there be something here? Someone? 

Not entirely a foreign concept to the women of the Swan family. 

She hasn’t been sleeping right in months, waking up screaming every night. Waking up Charlie, too. Scaring him. Scaring Renée. But Bella is helpless to stop them from worrying, constantly switching between crying out for help, pushing them away and lashing out at them. Bella knows what she wants, what she needs; she has always known, but now that it’s completely out of reach she doesn’t know what else to reach out for - what else to grab and cling to, to settle for. What else to use to numb herself when the process of rotting is too painful, or make herself feel when the numbness starts to sting the wrong way. 

The Cullens had mourned their loss of humanity, had told her eventually she would, too. But then, none of them had been given a choice; unlike her, who knew with unwavering certainty what she wanted the second she realized that vampires were more than mere fiction. Not that anyone had particularly cared what she wanted. Instead they kept projecting their own wants onto her; acting like having a husband and children would inevitably be what she would end up wanting, in the end. Like the process of ageing was a noble cause to pursue, and death an even nobler one. As though that’s all there is to life- She simply doesn’t know it yet. 

It's not that she'd been opposed to the idea of dying- Edward had on many occasions bemoaned her tendency to accept it far too readily. Death, in and of itself, had never made Bella as uncomfortable as it did others, so long as she got to go on her terms. That had been the crux of the matter. The thing none one of them had seemed to be able to grasp fully. The same applies, she thinks, to living. And those things they kept mentioning- marriage, kids, a graceful descend into deterioration and finally, death- had been decidedly their terms. Their way of measuring success, deeming a life well lived. 

Bella has been ambivalent about that sort of thing ever since she can remember- maybe. That’s what she’d kept repeating whenever asked; maybe, maybe not. Who knows what life has in store. Maybe she would one day give marriage a shot, though she'd be hesitant too, given her upbringing. Parenting, too. Maybe. She’d been entirely willing to give up on all those vagaries for what life seemed to have in store for her at Edward’s side. That hadn’t ever been a maybe for her.

These days, maybes are all she really has. Will she manage to get up today? Will she get through class without incidents and make it back home without giving Charlie new cause for worry? Will she fall asleep on time so she can drag herself to school again tomorrow? Will she have yet another screaming fit and cost both Charlie and her another night’s rest? 
What the hell do they expect her to do now, anyway? Try and forget that there is a whole other world out there, just out of reach? To marry someone she can never be entirely truthful with, someone she'll always be keeping secrets from- to have kids, knowing that she gave up immortality and the notion of a literal soulmate for them? She'd grow to resent them, she thinks, like Renée did Charlie. Or worse- maybe she'd love them. Maybe she'd still wake up screaming, scared to death that her partner or children might someday run into the same creatures she did. Victoria and Laurent are still out there- and others like them. 

Is she supposed to just... ignore that? No pressure though, right? she thinks bitterly, looking around her room, trying to suppress the need to break something. There is no going back to the way things were, the person she was before.

Bella feels a tight black ball of hate forming deep within her at the notion of having a mediocre little family, an average life on the outskirts of what she knows to be out there somewhere. It’s as real as cancer, a tumor corrupting her, pumping vile acid through her veins, eating away at her. She imagines that if someone were to take a knife to her stomach right now and cut her open it would fall out with the rest of her organs, slippery and slick and inky black in color. All her anger, all her hatred and despair concentrated into a solid form, there on the ground - and she’d stomp on it, crushing it, watching it seep through the spaces between her toes. Perhaps then she’d feel better. 

Bella shakes herself, pushing aside the thought of the inky black liquid squelching beneath her bare feet. 

She had tried - every now and then - to entertain the idea of a normal, human future for herself; the kind Edward would want her to have. The kind Charlie wants for her. The kind Rosalie had yearned for. But picturing herself as a wife and mother, another Grandma Swan, quietly passing away amidst a small crowd of loved ones, hadn't filled her with warmth. There had only been dread there; a rising panic.
She has grown to understand her mother now, better than ever. Renée had yearned for freedom, adventure - and she’d known she wouldn’t find it here. Mentally she’d always been somewhere else entirely - her head in the clouds. Mediocre tasks had fallen into Bella’s hands, and at the time she hadn’t minded. She’s like Charlie in that way; doing whatever needs to be done. But that was when she’d thought that was all there was to life. 

She’s had a taste now, of a life as exciting as the ones in her books - utterly irresistible in its intensity, daring her to take that final leap. How could she go back to wanting the bare minimum now?

Eventually she'd envisioned the next best thing; considered a future with Jacob, just for a moment- mostly because she’d known that that’s what Charlie wants for her. Sometimes you gotta learn to love what’s good for you, he’d told her once, after another screaming fit of hers had woken them both. She’d known what - who - he’d been referring to right away. 

Though Bella had nodded at the time, feigning understanding and agreement she’d dismissed the thought just as quickly; It wouldn’t be fair to either one of them, least of all Jacob. She’d told him flat out that her spending time with him came down to selfishness; that she was fine with him holding on to hope so long as he’d stick around - but she wasn’t selfish enough to keep that up indefinitely; to take away his chance at finding someone who loves him first and foremost. 

She had ended up gravitating toward him regardless, her personal sun- a source of warmth and comfort, and things she did not want to give names to for fear of crossing the lines she herself had drawn between them. 

So when he’d given her this fucking speech about... not being good, and It’s not you, it’s me- As she’d stood there soaked in rain, clothes and hair sticking to her clammy skin, all she could think about was Edward, and how she had no right to argue the point. She’d gotten the exact same speech from him, I’m not good for you, you’re not good for me.
Whatever it is that is happening to Jake right now, joining Sam’s weird little cult as he’d called it - she doesn’t have it in her to help him. She can’t even help herself, and it’s clear he doesn’t want her to interfere any more than Edward does. Those are his terms now, she supposes. 

Bella huffs a quiet breath, staring herself down. There is no point in seeking refuge in others, she thinks. There is only her, and she is barren. Empty, with nothing left to give. 

She knows she won’t find solace in the pursuit of some career any more than she would trying to start a family; building a life or devoting herself to some stupid hobby to kill time as she wastes away. She can’t listen to music, can't even read her books anymore without immediately thinking of what she has lost. The life she could have had. The life she nearly had - if only Edward hadn’t sucked out the venom when she’d been bitten.

She eyes the crescent scar on her wrist angrily, scratching at the pearly white skin there; a permanent reminder of what could’ve been where cool shimmery marble skin meets her imperfect human one. She’ll stare at it for hours at a time; imagining her skin changing, rotting - only the crescent remaining, perfect and unmarred as ever.

No, there is something fundamentally wrong with her. Something no amount of time spent healing can fix. Bella kicks her school bag angrily, watching as it slides across the floor. There is no point, no point to any of it. 

She had known what she wanted. And the fact that somehow that wasn’t enough; that it had been ridiculed and ignored is so downright patronizing that it makes her blood boil. That all-consuming sadness she’d felt at their departure had given way first to numbness, and then to blazing fury.
The life they’ve left her with is no life at all. She can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t enjoy things. She wakes up screaming at night, worrying her parents, alienating her friends, seeking danger in hopes of hallucinating-

Bella wonders if they know. Wonders what Alice sees when she looks for her now - if she ever does.

Don’t they care?

Who were they to tell her what she should want in life? In death? To tell her they love her, that she was part of the family, always would be, and then turn around to ignore her and project onto her before suddenly deciding to leave her behind? She’d expected them to understand, to see and accept her for who she truly was, the same way she had them. Maybe they don’t know her after all. Or they just couldn’t be bothered to look, too afraid of what they'd find if they did. 

She’d loved Edward, obsessed over him, idolized him. Mourned him. She had tried to move on, the only way she knew how. Part of her had, with Jacob. For a moment there she nearly felt whole again, like maybe things would be alright after all. Not like there’d never been a whole in her chest to begin with, but like she’d been stitched back up enough to allow for her to breathe again. Like someday all there might be left of that wound would be an ugly scar that she could maybe forget about, at least on some days. And then, finally - after months of nothingness and a few weeks of feeling almost alright - Jacob went and ruined it all by shattering the pieces of her soul he himself had stitched back together all over again - and it finally hit her. 

When Jacob had pushed her away with the same stupid explanation Edward had half heartedly given her that night, she began to understand that a part of her pain - and she hadn’t realized how large that part was until then - hadn’t been about Edward at all. Something within her mind fell into place with a soft click in that moment, when she realized that she wanted to be a vampire; not just to share forever with her soulmate, but for her own sake - her own sanity. She’d been heartbroken, zombified after Edward’s departure; but what had hurt much more than the initial betrayal was that he’d taken with him a family she had grown to love, as well as the key to a world she so desperately wants to be a part of - belongs in. She knows she does, despite what Edward had said.

You just don’t belong in my world his words echo through her mind, again and again. I belong with you, her own meek reply follows them. Bella shakes herself forcefully, trying to rid herself of the memory. Even if Jacob hadn’t broken things off between them- eventually, she would have. It isn’t normalcy she yearns for, never has been. What she wants is her very own eternity. 

So now Bella stands facing herself in the mirror, truly looking for the first time in ages - openly mourning the life she’d lost. God, I really do look like shit.
A corpse, nearly as rotten on the outside as she feels within. She is sick of feeling like this, of being this… this shadow of what used to be a person.

Determination forms on her weakened features then, a look she hasn’t seen on herself in so long that it fills her with deep regret. 

She’s been messed up for so long, so lost. Broken, a vital piece of her ripped out and taken away, leaving her incomplete and - worse - incapable of fixing herself. But I am going to fix it, she tells herself. I’m going to make the pain stop.

She feels like she’s been bullied into becoming a version of herself that is too weak-willed, too pathetic to do anything about it but cry. Someone who clings to others - Charlie, Jacob - hoping they can change things for her.
The version that greets her in the mirror now is a glimpse of who she’d wanted to be; deadly, determined - beautiful in her own right. There's a fury burning within that she can’t help but feed into. She’d do anything - anything to leave this state of mind behind.

This is who she is meant to be - and she will find a way. Even if neither Edward nor the rest of the Cullens will change her, that still leaves virtually any other vampire. More or less.

Pausing, Bella considers her options. She isn’t sure exactly how hard vampires are to come by, once you start actively looking for them. Even if she somehow manages to run into one in Seattle or something, who’s to say they would even give her enough time to finish her plea; that they wouldn’t just kill her? Even then, should they agree to change her - there is no way of knowing if they’d have the required self control. Bella has no idea how many vampires populate the earth, how likely a chance encounter with someone who fulfills these requirements truly is- it’s not like Edward would’ve told her, even if she had dared to ask.

She traces the crescent scar on her wrist absentmindedly, the cool smooth skin - feeding her need for change. This time around, she would only have one chance. There would be no one to save her, should she find herself in need of help. No one to make sure she doesn’t die. It isn’t worth the risk, really, to throw herself at just any vampire she may run into - unlikely as that might be in the first place. 

She is vaguely aware of a coven somewhere up north in Alaska; an extension of the Cullen clan, distant cousins, Edward had called them.
For a moment she considers going to them for help, but they’d probably end up contacting the Cullens and decide against turning her to avoid garnering their anger - if they are anything like the Cullens it would probably be safe to assume that they don’t take changing people lightly and would consider her preposition immoral.

She remembers Edward telling her once about a sort of vampire monarchy; rulers that reside somewhere in Italy. That the rules they enforce mostly concern secrecy regarding their nature. If she were to ask them to be changed, wouldn’t they be more likely to do it, since she’s already aware of their existence? They’d most certainly either change or kill her - there’s no chance they’d let her walk away once she confronts them - knowing what she knows.

She remembers them, the three elegant figures in the oil painting in Carlisle’s study. They’d looked every bit as regal as she would’ve imagined vampire kings to look. Every bit as creepy - the kind of vampire Bella would’ve pictured before meeting the Cullens; dark and looming, an imposing air to them that had immediately burned itself into her memory.
As she’d stood there, staring up at the painting the three pairs of eyes gazing back at her had felt almost hypnotic in their intensity. She had wondered if the artist had been able to capture them true to form. If he’d known, too. She’d wondered if those eyes were even more striking in person.

Again Bella considers her options, coming up mostly empty handed. She’d crossed random encounters off her list, then friends and family of Carlisle - so what does that leave her with? The evil overlords of the vampire world? The thought scares her, and yet there is a certain comfort to it. A thrill, even. Either she’ll be changed and able to live the life she was meant for or she'll be killed, and would at least not have to endure decades of a mediocre, hateful existence. Pain. Waking up screaming. Scaring her parents. Wasting away right in front of them, in front of herself. 

Again she stares down her reflection. What is left of her, after six months of nothingness. Six months of pure and utter despair. Bella does feel slightly better, now that she’s at least planning to do something. Act - rather than wait for things to change for her.

Does she have it in herself to face them? A deadly calm comes over her then, like there is no choice to be made there at all. She is already dead in all the ways that matter. She had stepped - unknowingly - into the world of vampirism with one foot, while the other still remains firmly stuck in the normal, human world. She’d rip herself apart, trying to balance herself like this forever - knowing, always knowing that there is something more out there, just out of reach. 

What Edward had failed to understand was that she’d already changed. Removing himself from her life, ripping himself away from her forcefully - it would not make her go back to the girl she was before she moved to Forks, like he’d promised it would. As though time would eventually heal the gaping wounds he’d left her with. She can never be that girl again, and she can’t possibly remain the person she is now. She needs to move on, one way or another- and if she dies trying, well, it will be have been on her terms. 

—-

Bella spends her school days staring out the window, ignoring her classmates; contemplating her trip into the unknown. Debating her decision. People don't tend to bother her much anymore - they’d mostly given up on her months ago, though they still try to talk to her every once in a while; probably because they feel guilty for dropping her.
She doesn’t hold it against them, hadn’t known them long or well enough to feel truly betrayed when they moved on from The New Girl turned acquaintance turned stranger again. There is a disconnect between them now, one she fears will always remain between her and the rest of humanity; I know something you don’t. She finds herself unable to care about much of anything anymore, nothing matters - in the grand scheme of things - homework, the occasional crush, movies, plans for the future - whatever else her classmates are talking about.

So instead of trying to fall asleep only to wake up screaming Bella stays up; spends her nights mostly hunched over her laptop, snuggled into a blanket and sipping on some tea - thinking of the life she'll be leaving behind. But the calm resolve is unwavering, prompting her to keep going, dig deeper. End this.

Edward had taken a part of her with him, forcefully ripping it out of her, but it wasn’t his to take. She needs it back now; it’s as simple as that.

She can’t exactly remember the name Edward had mentioned, back in the study. Vol-something, Italy. She keeps searching online, looking for something that sounds familiar when she finally comes across Volterra, Tuscany - a charming village, located near Florence.
The name rings a bell so she keeps digging, eventually reading about Volterran lore, which ironically includes quite a few mentions of vampires - like festivities commemorating the expulsion of all vampires in Volterra of all things. Saint Marcus' Day.

No way. Bella nearly wants to laugh. Of course. How the world remains blind to the existence of vampires is beyond her. Then again, had she not known what to look for, she probably would’ve paid it no mind either. Sometimes the best place to hide really is the most obvious one, she supposes. Like the massive palace she is looking at right now, advertised as a museum of all things. 

The Palazzo dei Priori, built sometime in the 13th Century. Certainly suited rather well to house ancient royalty. It looms imposingly over the small village, surrounded by the tiny houses and shops made of yellowing stone. Everything looks very old. Beautiful.

Bella chuckles quietly, the sound so strange and unfamiliar to her ears that she has to shake herself for a moment. They’d be there for Saint Marcus Day Festival; they would have to be, probably get some kind of sick pleasure out of people celebrating their permanent departure while they are right there, leering. It definitely is that vampire-brand of humor she’d come to appreciate.

Bella clicks her way through a few more adverts for local businesses, chest tight with excitement. There are a few hostels in Volterra and she eventually settles on a cheap one that offers shared rooms to tourists. She could stay there without spending too much money in case she doesn’t find what she is looking for and needs to move on to another place.

She supposes that is as far as her online research can take her - she’ll have to do the rest in person. There is a chance she’s wrong about this, that she’ll go there and return empty handed. And she can’t exactly come home if that happens. She’ll need to keep looking until she finds them - coming home is not an option, at least not to her. 

If she runs out of money she’ll have to find a way of making some, something unofficial she wouldn’t need credentials and identification for. She hopes it won’t come to that.

Bella googles a few more random things - just in case someone decides to look at her search history. She’s better off disguising it as homework than she would be deleting it, risking someone recovering it. After a moment spent clicking through articles detailing aspects of Roman culture she shuts her laptop down, discarding it on her desk. 

Now for the hard part - she’d been putting this off - Renée. Charlie.

Bella sighs, taking another sip of tea. The warm mug in her hand is only a slight comfort.

She loves them. Edward had tried to use that against her, too. This would hurt them terribly, she knows that. He’d tried to scare her, telling her that they’d have to fake her death if she were to be transformed. That her parents would suffer, and die - just like everyone else she’d ever known - and that she’d have to watch; unable to do anything about it as the world she’d known changed around her while she remained the same, unchanged. It had scared her, still does - but it had never been nearly enough to put her off the idea entirely.

Part of her wants to make up some kind of grand lie - that she has enrolled in school somewhere else, that she will move far away or has chosen to run off... something. But she wouldn’t be able to keep that up for the rest of their lives; eventually she would have to die. To stop giving them something to worry over- something to chase, and hope for.
If they thought she’d merely run off they’d keep looking. And really, there is no point in trying to shield them from the pain of losing their only child. They would have to endure it, eventually. 

Suicide is her best option. She’d been a shell of herself for months, with the way she’d been acting no one would doubt it. Not even Charlie; she’d seen the way he looks at her. If she were to get better now - going off to travel or visit a school somewhere she’d miss her window, her death might be less believable then - She couldn’t risk that.

After all Charlie is pretty close to throwing her out, sending her off to Jacksonville - already anticipating her doing something rash. Something stupid. So if her parent’s fears were to come true now they probably wouldn’t question it, wouldn’t investigate it further than absolutely necessary.

But they would blame themselves. This would hurt worse than some freak accident, this might actually... break them. But there is no way she could believably fake an accident without a body, unless she tried to drive her car down a cliff of something - anything she’d try would probably end up looking like a suicide regardless. Or worse, fake. Like she’d tried to disappear. Bella can’t risk that, not with Charlie. He’d seen enough in his line of work to smell when something was fishy - it needs to be convincing. 

That means she can’t say goodbye, can’t go downstairs and hug him tightly like she so desperately wants to, murmuring placating words of encouragement. I want this, this is what is right for me. She could leave a note. Should probably leave a note - so no one would doubt her intention of taking her life. Most people leave notes.

Tomorrow, when she’s supposed to leave for school she’ll wait somewhere in the woods for Charlie to leave, then she’ll return and place the note. There’s really nothing she could possibly say to make this easier on him. Still, her mind twists and turns trying to come up with something to say, something to do. God. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re never going to understand, but I need to do this.

When she finally tries to rest she finds that she can’t fall asleep; her mind still racing. Eventually, when it becomes too much, she throws her blankets back and gets up - looking around for something to take her mind off of things. Ultimately she winds up in front of her mirror again, staring. She hadn’t really thought about what to take with her to Italy, but now that she thinks about it, meeting ancient royalty dressed in a hoodie and sneakers feels wrong - disrespectful somehow.

Bella stares at a dirty pile of clothes next to her bed, pondering.

Whatever she ends up wearing needs to be clean, something pretty that makes her look worth a second glance. Worth listening to. Worth changing. She wonders idly what they might wear, these days - if they still dress the way they did in the painting. She can’t quite imagine ancient vampires who deem themselves royalty to wear anything that could ever be described as casual. 

Looking through her closet Bella deflates. Nothing seems good enough for that kind of encounter - it’s not exactly something she’d prepared for, but the trip itself would be expensive enough as it is; it’s not like she could afford to go shopping for designer clothes to fit the occasion. 

She sighs, her mind wandering to Alice who surely would have had the perfect outfit laid out on the bed for her by now. She had tried - back in the day - to dress Bella up again, and again, and Bella had constantly refused her shopping trips, the make-overs, the spa-days… By now she could admit to herself that it wasn’t necessarily because she wouldn’t have enjoyed those things, in small doses. She’d been scared to try, because standing next to the Cullens looking, feeling like she didn’t belong was better when she at least didn’t really try to.
Had she tried to somehow match them, to wear their clothing and whatever else Alice had offered... only then would it have felt like real competition. 

There is no helping it, though, she’ll need to make a quick stop somewhere to buy something cheap but decent looking. She has quite a bit of money, after all - Charlie’s insistence on shouldering the burden of all household expenses and her habit of barely spending any of her pocket money on anything other than books or the truck is coming in handy now.

Bella idly chews on the side of her thumb as she mentally runs through her calculations again. By now, she can easily afford a one way ticket to Italy and some nice clothes - but she still has to consider the possibility of not finding what she is looking for, of having to travel further within Italy, paying for hotels there... She can’t risk spending too much on anything else until then, needs to be smart about this.

Once the sun starts to come up she packs her school bag, brushes her teeth and hair, puts on a black hoodie and her sneakers, all the while trying to come up with what she would write in her note later; impatiently waiting for her alarm to go off. It feels like a small eternity - waiting for the old her to die and a new her to take her place, to really start living. 

By the time she comes downstairs Charlie is already seated in his usual chair, hunched over a file. Bella recognizes it to be of some missing kid from Seattle - she’d seen it around, though she hadn’t bothered to take a closer look.

Charlie catches her staring, motioning toward it he sighs deeply. "His folks have been plastering Seattle with posters of him." 

Bella nods, swallowing down the tight knot in her throat. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Sure." 

They fall into a quiet that used to be comfortable - these days it’s the kind of quiet that’s feels like the buzzing of a thousand words left unsaid. He’s got a lot on his mind. Maybe it’s because of the kid, maybe it’s because of her - probably both. Bella wonders if he’ll plaster the city with posters of her soon; if he’ll go out of his way to look for a body. She wonders how long it’ll take for the search to stop, for Charlie to give up on finding her, if he ever does. Somehow she doubts he will.

Looking at him now, knowing the pain he'll be in later today, she almost feels like she can’t go through with it. Like shutting up and simply living the life everyone wants her to live is somehow the easy way out, when really, being miserable for the rest of her life and pulling everyone down with her is anything but easy.
It’s not like staying would make him happy, Bella tells herself firmly- she knows he’s not. Just another way of losing someone while they’re there; right there beside you. Like watching Grandma Swan die all over again, physically present even as her mind slowly fell apart. Charlie had done his best back then, too- Bella barely remembers her, other than her yearly visits to the retirement home and - eventually - the hospice. The way Charlie had held his mother’s hand, watching her wither away. Helpless to stop it. 

This is better, she reasons. Better than making him go through that again, better than sticking around. Quicker, if nothing else.

She hands him coffee and a sandwich, smiles inwardly when he takes a huge bite out of it and hums in appreciation. He’ll go back to eating microwaved food when she’s gone. Eating out at the restaurant he’d taken her to on her first day here. If he could still stand to be there, after. Bella forces herself to push those thoughts away, looks at the clock instead. It’s nearly time for him to leave for work. 

She gets her battered old backpack and slings it over one shoulder, trying to fight the urge to stay and spend every bit of time she can close to him. She’ll never see him again. 

"Headin' out?" he says, his eyes glued to the file still. 

"Yeah." Bella says, holding back tears.

"Alright. Have a nice day, okay?"

Bella’s heart clenches. He still doesn’t look up, and maybe it’s good that he doesn’t. 

"You too, Dad." she murmurs quietly. He looks up then, but she’s already turned and out the door.

She walks down all the way to the street, just in case, and then straight into the woods behind the house. She sits down there, waiting, watching. 

Thinking.

This is her last chance to turn around, so to speak. Once the note is planted and she's left the house there's no turning back - unless she wants to be committed to some mental facility, and stuck with everyone constantly on the lookout for any signs...

No, she has to do this now. It’s going to be painful, will hurt Charlie and Renée more than her. Charlie is tough, she wants to tell herself. He can take it. But he’s like her, not really a social butterfly. He’ll retreat even further, turn in on himself - blame himself, and there will be no one here to save him. She’s worried about him a lot more than her mom. 
Renée has Phil, her travels... she’s the type that will take whatever help is offered, and find strength and meaning in that.

Charlie though... what if he can’t take it? 

Bella’s mind wanders then, to Charlie seated at the table, hunched over the note that he's probably read enough times to recite by memory. His hand moves down, grabbing his gun, and then back up; cool metal pressed to his temple. And there’s no one coming home to stop him.

Bella startles as the door opens and he steps out, file under his arm, and her eyes inevitably land on his gun. She tries to swallow the knot that has formed in her throat but it won’t budge. And then he's gone, and she’s left alone, sitting in the woods. He wouldn’t. He won’t. 

She takes a moment to catch her breath, waiting for her heart to stop beating out of her chest. 

Then, when she's sure there’s no one left to witness it, she runs back toward the house. 

It’s different, entering her home knowing that it’s probably the last time she’ll ever get the chance. It feels so small, warm. A cozy, safe space filled with memories and she knows she'll miss it. Miss him. Miss Forks, even. She takes another deep breath, grabs a pen and paper, and - after a long moment of staring at the blank page - starts writing. 

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒, 

 

𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎. 

𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 

𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁, 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹’𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓈𝑜 - 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉. 

𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅, 𝐼’𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 - 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒, 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝓉𝑜𝑜. 𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓂𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉. 

𝐵𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝐼’𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈. 

𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓂, 𝓉𝑜𝑜. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎. 

𝐼'𝓂 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝓊𝓉 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝓎𝓅𝑜𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁, 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓂𝑒. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝒹𝓋𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈. 𝒯𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 

𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼’𝓂 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹. 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹’𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 

 

𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶

It feels wrong somehow, not good enough, but then again; realistically it never would be - there’s nothing she could possibly write to take the pain away, even though part of her desperately wants to try.

She runs upstairs, throws her school bag on the ground and grabs another bag, her money and papers inside. No clothes, nothing else that would raise suspicion. She goes back downstairs, puts her phone on the table, next to the note. No electronics either. 

She leaves the house behind, careful not to look back, gets into her car, starts the engine and then she's gone. Dead.

She doesn’t drive toward her actual destination - instead she heads outside the city, ditches her beloved truck in the woods, drops a hair tie with some hairs still stuck to it down a steep part of the the forest before she turns around, mindful to avoid leaving any traces leading back out of the forest. The area is known for its wildlife - bears and pumas, wolves. She hopes the absence of her body will be explained away because of that - hopes they’ll conclude she was dragged away and eaten by them. It’s gruesome, but it’s all she’s got. 

I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m so sorry. 

After, she walks down the road for a while, changing the top layer of her clothes and her hairstyle every once in a while to throw any drivers that might spot her off until she reaches the outskirts of a small town, her legs aching already. The roads had been pretty empty on her way there, she hopes that’ll help - only a handful of cars had passed her on her way over.

Bella hadn't exactly been very active in recent months and it definitely shows; she feels exhausted already, limbs aching where they haven’t gone numb already. She gets on a bus, then a train, another bus and a taxi until she finally reaches Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, careful not to raise suspicion, to blend in.

She hopes they spend all their time searching the woods, not even considering that she might’ve travelled further; but just in case she’s wearing her most non-descript get-up, avoids cameras as well as possible. If they do look for her here her efforts will likely be futile anyways - she can’t exactly avoid using her papers; doesn’t know how to get her hands on a fake passport, can’t afford it, and doesn’t dare risk getting held up only to be sent home by the police or something. 

Ideally she would’ve left some blood in the forest - indicating some kind of injury to throw them off her trail. But she doesn't think it would help her cause in the long run; turning up in Volterra with a relatively fresh wound. She thinks back briefly to her last birthday party with the Cullens; the small cut that had been the death sentence of her relationship with Edward. Of the way Jasper had looked at her in that moment, and the way Edward had looked at her after.

Inside the airport she tries to avoid looking up, tries to keep avoiding cameras as well as possible without raising suspicion- the last thing she needs right now is to be dragged off to some secret interrogations room on the basis of unusual behavior. She makes sure to yawn often, huddled into her large hoodie. Trying to look sleepy, maybe jet lagged instead of like a fugitive on the run. It’s easy enough - she didn’t catch much sleep last night, and has already completely exhausted herself physically.

When sitting she hugs her backpack, closes her eyes, dips her head down and evens out her breathing, listening intently to her surroundings - trying hard not to actually fall asleep and miss her flight. 

The flight costs her just shy of $1000, that leaves her with around $2500. It’s not much, considering she’s going to land in Florence, and will have to pay for a trip to Volterra.

Usually she’d try to block out the sounds of the airport but today they offer a welcome distraction from her spinning thoughts. The constant mantra of I’m sorry, I need to do this.

Some irrational part of her brain wonders if Charlie has already found the note, but only a few hours have passed since her initial departure and he’s definitely still at the station. 

He will probably find it before she lands in Florence, though. 

Bella listens in on the conversations around her, trying to distract herself from thoughts of home, thoughts of Charlie, but finds nothing worth listening to; focusing instead on the sound of people walking by her, the steady thrum of voices and sounds of baggage being wheeled around. A small child crying, a dog barking, someone complaining loudly about the weight of their bags. 

She’s pretty damn close to actually falling asleep by the time she’s allowed to board the plane. 

Something deep within her starts buzzing with energy. Every step she takes now brings her closer to her goal. Or death. That’s when it really hits her; She’d thought of this as faking her suicide. But it dawns on her, fully now, that this might just be her very elaborate way of committing suicide via vampire. 

But she’d promised herself that whichever way this would go she wouldn’t regret it. 

Even if they kill her... even then she’ll be grateful. Or at least she’ll try to be. She doesn't want whatever Edward had envisioned for her, and she will not be forced to live through decades of it to please him, or anyone for that matter. 

As she boards the plane she promises herself over and over that whatever happens, it'll be okay. 

𝕬𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖊

The vast trees of the forest stretch out in front of her, a deep saturated green - so familiar that Alice can almost smell the wet moss. 

The vision takes her deeper into the forest, rushes her toward the familiar Swan house; nestled in between the trees, cozy as ever. 

She’s pulled into the house and there is Bella, hunched over the kitchen table with pen and paper in hand. She looks horrible, Alice notes. Sunken-in eyes and cheeks, long unkempt hair, her lips dried out and chewed on. She looks frail, jittery. Worse than she did the last time Alice had caught a glimpse of her, walking down the dark alleys of Seattle, hunched over, hiding in her hoodie.

She’s wearing the same hoodie now, an ugly oversized black thing that seems to swallow her, hanging loosely from her famished form. Alice moves closer, leaning over her shoulder to read what she’s writing. She only catches glimpses of the words, though they paint a pretty vivid picture all by themselves. I can’t sleep. I’m in pain. I’m sorry. I love you. 

Bella is crying softly, wiping away at tears as she leaves the house behind, swinging her backpack over one shoulder. 

The vision changes abruptly; Bella in her truck, Bella in the outskirts of the forest. She slips and nearly falls several times, walking deeper into the forest before she’s gone.   

Alice dares to take a breath, staring into Jasper’s worried eyes. She shakes her head, unable to speak the words - begging him to understand regardless. She is in pain, torn apart and she needs him to understand. She can’t accept what she’s just seen. No. She feels her heart being ripped to shreds in her chest, looking into Jasper’s eyes with sheer panic, pain. No.

For a moment she can see it overwhelming him, sweeping him along with her, before he gains the upper hand, concentrating. 

She’d known. She’d told them, even before they’d packed up and left; several times she’d told them what would become of Bella if they continued down this path but they’d refused to listen, constantly arguing that whatever it is Alice might be seeing would still be subject to change the moment variables outside of her current view came into play. They’re not wrong precisely- Alice’s visions are admittedly fickle things that change at frequent rates, just as peoples decisions tend to; but it’s already been months and there had yet to be a meaningful change to the glimpses of Bella she’d managed to catch.
From the looks of it things have continued to get worse with everyday they chose to stay away, and while Alice had continued to stubbornly argue her point she hadn’t dared to actually defy the others by acting against what had been decided on during their counsels. She’d contemplated it, sure- but the risk of Edward taking even more drastic measures should she try to meddle before he himself decides to return had scared her off.

When Bella had reached out to her she hadn’t reached back- praying that she would stay strong just a little longer, long enough for Edward to come to his senses and come running back to Bella, who would certainly have forgiven him after some groveling-

But she’s waited too long, and Bella doesn’t have the strength to hold on any longer. She should’ve known- Alice chokes back a sob, violently shaking in Jasper’s arms. She miscalculated. She should’ve responded. She should’ve been there for her best friend, her sister- She should have gone home. Just this once she should’ve defied everyone, not matter how much the thought still terrifies her. 

"Alice?" Rosalie asks from across the room but Alice merely shakes her head again, her mouth opening and closing silently, wretched noises escaping her throat. The words won’t come until she feels Jasper’s gentle touch on her cheek followed by soothing strokes and a sudden calm that washes over her. 

"It’s Bella." she whispers as the room suddenly grows impossibly quiet. "I think she’s dead."