I came to you for support that day. It was wet and cold, the usual for Forks; I oddly miss those days, the woodsy smell and the humid green. January has just passed. January in Forks is beyond the line of miserable but I yearn to spend that month in my little gloomy town each year.

But it wasn't the month of January that day… the precise month has escaped me. I can only remember the soggy mud and the heavy rain as I marched away from the garage, your furious face left brooding behind me. I came to you and felt beyond rage when you didn't deliver. I was through with Edward and I wanted your support. I didn't want your instant advances, or your cocky grin. It wasn't a competition. You hadn't won. But maybe I was the foolish one for thinking you and your wolf would see it any other way.

So I lost my teenage temper and I said things that were untrue. I was frustrated. With everything. The constant battles of ego between you and Edward. The constant pressure that built up inside of me, that said I had to choose. The wolf pack's snarky comments and the Cullen's sickly pity. Everything. I was just a kid. You were just a kid. And I handled it badly.

If it's any consolation my hand still stings to this day from the slap I gave you. And I have a scar on my wrist from the rabbit's broken windscreen. I don't know what possessed me to pick up that baseball bat; you were always telling Embry not to leave it in your garage. I just hope Charlie helped pay for the damages because I'd much rather owe him than add to the list of things I owe you.

Alice rang me as soon as I made it to my truck but you already know this bit. I could see your wavering form stood in the rain and I knew you heard every word; her woe on how she couldn't see me but how she knew something was wrong. Though I was blind behind my windscreen and the rapid rain, I've always imaged you laughing in the pour down when I told her to fuck off. I stalled twice before the heap of shit truck started; but I didn't drive until the minute hand rounded up to the next tenth. That was four minutes until the clock on my dash hit 40 minutes past. You had four minutes to call me back. I'm so glad you didn't.

I loved you and I loved Edward. But the incomparable love I gained for another in the broken heart I earned for you and Edward most definitely would have been left undiscovered, to turn to ash, if you had called me back.

In the ten minute lapse of time from your garage to the stretch of tarmac that looked like watery ink under the restless tires of my truck, I realised how naive I was about life. How my torment was nothing but a slither to the pain in his deep-set dark eyes.

"You need to grow the fuck up Isabella." He had snarled. And I did. The moment my eye's landed on him marching down the road, swapped in the rain, a worn rucksack latched to his back.

If you didn't know, Paul left the reservation that same day and he hitched a ride with me to rock bottom.

A/N Let me know what you think :) See you next week.