Chapter Seven: Hopeless

EPOV

"What's happened to you, Bella?" There was truly no other way to put that question. I was so confused, so out of place, so... amazed at how different she looked in front of me when just months ago, her soft skin rubbing against mine intensified my love for her and when her hair would get tangled in my fingers, or when she would scrunch her nose in embarrassment, it made me never want to let her go. All of those feelings felt so far away, from a different universe—it seemed impossible to have felt these intimate emotions for this stranger in front of me.

"I grew up, Eddyboy, wish you would do the same. Sucks to be you." She tensed her fingers into her palms again but her lips didn't twitch.

"Why did you cut yourself? It's not like you."

Her eyebrows lifted and a smirk appeared on her face for a half second before she scoffed.

"I can't believe—"

"Dude," she said curtly, cutting me off from my sentence, stopping my incoming questions, leaving the burning curiosity and sick worry down in my stomach. "Can you shut the fuck up for two seconds? I don't have to explain shit to you."

It shut me up. Swearing was not a common trait for her to have, but the words rolled off her tongue like they were her native language. It immobilised me and I kept silent for the entire class. What else was there to say? What was I to do?

Suddenly, she sat up in her seat and looked at me. I couldn't decide what emotion was hiding behind her pale brown eyes. "I'm sorry," she gestured, her hand at her heart as if she was just realising something. "I know you're very concerned about my bloody wrists" —the way she said it made me flinch, but not enough for her to notice— "and I totally forgot about your natural instinct." Her left hand reached to the wrists on her right hand and, with a her polished nails, she opened one of the slits, exposing a small drop of blood into the cool air. "I forgot how much blood bothered your kind."

The urge to grab her arm and close my hand on her cut was intense, but I didn't want to touch her. Her hand had already reached up to my mouth earlier and it made my feet feel absolutely numb. I don't know how I would take her skin this time around.

But the blood. She was teasing me, her smile full of malicious intent. I could smell the aroma permeating our area in the classroom, remembering the sweet taste, the undenying joy that I had when I filled my throat with even a small amount of her blood, and the outrageous temptation it brought to me that made her blood much more appetising than any other I've encountered in my years. The sight was almost too much to handle, but I didn't let my thoughts be known.

I couldn't let her imagine me lowering myself to whatever desperate level she seemed to be at.

IPOV

He didn't waver at my wrist and so after a minute, I just let the blood slide up my arm and shrugged.

He truly did not care anymore. If he could up and leave me, what makes me think he'd still be pining for my blood? I wiped the small drops of blood off my wrist and felt a little stupid. At least it was cold enough so that my blood had no desire to spill out.

In all this bantering, I had forgotten my earlier dilemmas, but as soon as I thought about the day ahead, it all came rushing back. I would go to extremes to not having to sleep without chemical help. Sleeping pills and aspirin did me no good, but at least it helped me stop thinking for a little while. It would have to do. I still had a stash in my drawer. These would at least buy me some time to think up a strategy for stupid self.

The bell finally rang and I bolted out of the room like no one's business. I hated Edward for even talking to me. Who does he think he is? Because of him, I'd have a hard time paying any fucking attention in class and I'll fail. Renée will be pissed, but as long as she suspects that I have been on a good-girl streak, she'll just think I'm a dumbass.

Once I got to my truck, I breathed out, trying to find some calmness within me. Every day I feel triggered and it has been buidling up. All this Cullen stress will lead me to my death very soon, I just know it.

"Bella, wait," a voice sounded behind me and immediately my tenses accumulated and a migraine was forming behind my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut and wished for a gun at my head.

As soon as I opened them, the bastard was at the foot of my truck with his hands in his gay little peacoat and that matched the constipated look on his face. His eyes were burning into mine.

"What do you want from me?" I snapped.

He opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed he couldn't muster a coherent sentence. Instead he just stared, trying to figure me out. "Bella," he breathed, so hopelessly, it reminded me of Charlie and his defeated look when he realised he couldn't save me. But Edward's eyes scorched through my skin in the cold, thin air. He looked at me like a few sweet words from his mouth could change me back to the person I was when I moved to Washington, to the person he met and made cling to his every will, and it touched every nerve in my body that I couldn't hold back.

"What the fuck do you want, Edward?" I repeated with enraged gusto. "You left me! You did!" I screamed at him, suddenly hitting the side of my truck with as much force as I could manage. "You said I'd never see you again and I wish so badly you were a man of your word. I don't want—"

Fuck! I was so enraged I couldn't keep talking. My blood was boiling and my skin was on fire. I felt goosebumps along my back but it wasn't from the cold. There burning travelled to my face, along my cheeks, and to the back of my eyes. Before I knew it, a tear slid down without permission and I looked away, embarrassed.

I hopped in my truck quickly, revved the engine and reversed, not even looking to see if the coast was clear. The splitting migraine was intense and unbearable and the tears kept flowing. I pushed my foot on the pedal and prayed that I would die.