For the love and vampires

chapter twelve

I spent two weeks in bed.

I think I had PTSD. Sue told me that when Bella was 17 she and Edward had a short stint apart and Bella acted like she wanted to kill herself for like 5 months until he came back. Except Bella had a werewolf to comfort her, what do I have, a bag of Doritos.

The only good thing about not leaving your room for two weeks straight in a depressive episode? I can now recite every single word to Taylor Swifts All Too Well 10-minute version, my tears ricochet, right were you left me and Michael Messineo's 6-hour YouTube serious about pretty little liars, a show, by the way, that I have never watched. So, that's really fun.

I felt like shit for putting Charlie and sue through that but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get out of bed. And I certainly couldn't go to school .

I knew that if I went to school I would react. I would yell or cry. I didn't want to be that embarrassing ex who just couldn't move on .

The next time I see William I want to be put together and confident. I wanted to be able to see her and look through her, like we'd never even met.

I never want her to see what she has made me. I never want her to know how I'm feeling , how I tried to slit my wrists knowing full well that I would wake up the next day perfectly fine with a new set of scars and ruined sheets.

Before William I felt nothing. No happiness, no sadness, no anger, or shame, or embarrassment. I never felt pride or confidence, disappointment, or comfort.

Everything was muted, dull. Like a thin sheet was placed over every experience, every emotion. They were always there I just never felt them, not fully.

Then came William. She ripped the sheet off. With her I felt everything. Happy, comfortable, elated, safe, strong. I just never imagined that there was a counter feeling for the euphoria she gave me. I never expected to be this hurt from her. Never from her.

And now, here we are, two weeks later. All the pain I had expected to pass is still fucking here, lingering, burrowing its way into my skin, into my blood stream.

And all I wanted to do was find that blond haired slag and punch her right in the fucking face.

I wanted William to see my anger my hurt. To hear me scream and yell.

I wanted to look and sound downright psychotic with the anger I held.

So that's what I did. I got dressed in a fucking fierce outfit that William would call "well paid stripper" and I got in my car, beyond thankful that both Charlie and sue were out.

It's Saturday so I drove to the Cullen house knowing that they all hung out there on Saturdays instead of in their respected homes . As I drove I got to thinking of an excuse as to why I would be there other than the murderous rampage I felt coming on.