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Still Breathing

Chapter One

The Absence of Sunshine

EPOV

Flicking the butt of my cigarette, I ignore the incessant vibration of my phone against my leg. I was late. Really fucking late, to be more precise. Exhaling smoke from my mouth, I drop the cancer stick into the ashtray. It was a terrible habit, one that I'd recently developed, but I needed something to keep my hands occupied. It never ended well if I was left to my own devices for too long. Turning my gaze to the amber colored liquid residing in the glass tumbler in front of me, I lift into my lips and take a swig, letting the alcohol rest on my tongue for a moment before swallowing it completely. I wasn't a big fan of scotch, but today, I was definitely a fan of the burn it provided. My gaze focused on the ring of perspiration left on the wooden bar top. The bartender had given me a coaster, but I disregarded it as I did most things these days. In doing so, I left a mark on the worn wood where so many marks had been left before. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that mine was fresh, or the simple knowledge behind the reason I sat in a dingy bar wasting my day away, but my mark seemed more prominent than the others, as it always seemed to be no matter the situation. Bringing the glass to my lips again, I swallow the remaining liquid before standing and tossing some money on the counter. I didn't want to ponder my scars, but it appeared that regardless of the atmosphere, it was inevitable today.

Pushing the door open, I step out into the blinding sunlight and squint my eyes up at the sky, irrationally aggravated that it was so sunny out on a day that should be gloomy. I feel the vibration of my phone begin again and reach into my pocket to pull it out as I start walking the two blocks towards where I know my family to be. Bringing the phone to my ear, I'm immediately assaulted by my sisters typically over excited and high pitched voice. How she could be excited on a day like today, I'll never know.

"Edward! Where are you? Do you know how worried we've been? You said you were coming. I understand that today is-"

I cut her off before she could finish her sentence. "I'm well aware of what today is, Alice. I don't need you to remind me, but thanks anyway."

"You really need to be here, Edward. It's about Anth-"

Halting my strides on the sidewalk, I inhale a sharp breath. "Alice, what don't you guys fucking understand? I have enough goddamn reminders that it's the anniversary of my son's disappearance. I don't want to gather in a goddamn room and talk about him. I don't want to relive what happened that night or talk about what he would look like now. I don't want to do it. I can't be there for that. Not today."

Pulling the phone from my ear, I hear Alice's muffled voice say, "Edward, you don't under-" and I abruptly end the call.

Dragging a hand down my face, I start walking again, doing my best to ignore the onslaught of emotions barreling their way through my mind. Just as I'm about to slip my phone back into my pocket, it starts buzzing again. Sighing deeply, I glance down and freeze. The name flashing across the screen is one that I never expected to see again, a name that even my family knew better than to bring up around me. My heart stops beating, only to restart at pace so high that I unconsciously raise a hand to my chest as I bring my phone to my ear, my voice cracking as I speak.

"Bella?"

After a brief hesitation, a timid voice coated with thick emotion finally responds. "Edward..."

An onslaught of memories rush to the surface, and I'm brought back to two years ago, the last time I heard Bella's voice. She'd taken Anthony to the carnival in town. I was supposed to meet them there but I never made it. I had to work late, a choice I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. Maybe if I had shown up, things would've been different. I would give anything to go back in time and prevent all of it, but life just doesn't fuckin' work that way.

When she explained what had happened, I tried to picture it. I tried to visualize my wife being beaten near the brink of death, and our son being ripped from our lives by a man nobody had seen or heard from since. I tried to imagine the man that she described, a man who could tear apart a family that had done nothing wrong. My mind wasn't capable of creating such a monster.

When she told me she was leaving, that she couldn't live with herself and face me everyday knowing that it was her fault that our son was gone, I tried to stop her. I begged and pleaded with her to stay. She was just as stubborn as she always had been, and she had made up her mind. It wasn't her fault, and I told her as much while tears were streaming down my face, though I'd thrown contradicting words in her face the night before. She left me crumpled on the floor as I watched her walk out of my life, shattering what was left of my broken heart.

I haven't seen or heard from her since I'd left our house that night, leaving her the house filled with the memories she desperately clung to. I knew she still held hope of finding Anthony, and as much as I refused to admit it to anyone else, the same hope coursed through my veins. Reality tells me that the chances are horrifyingly low, that my son might never be found alive. Logic tells me that after finding no trace of him the first week of his disappearance, and only dead end tips since, it was a fight that could never be won. A fight against time, against a man that nobody knew anything about. I've tried to accept it, the fact that Anthony might be dead, that he most likely had died the very night he was taken from us. Thoughts of how that may have happened still keep me up at night and are the very reason why I would rather rot away in a quiet bar than be around my smiling family, or what's left of it. It was almost easier to believe that he was dead. How was I supposed to live with the alternative? In the beginning, I couldn't even eat without imagining my son starving to death in a shallow grave somewhere.

I did everything I could, so did Bella. We made missing child posters and hung them everywhere from our city to all surrounding towns and even crossed some state lines. We searched playgrounds, schools, abandoned houses, warehouses and shelters. Money was never an obstacle, and we spent thousands on advertisements and private investigators, but even an outrageous reward brought nothing but liars and false leads. We didn't sit at home and wait for the police to give us updates, not that they ever had much to update us on. We questioned everyone we came across and I can't even count how many nights I found myself in the empty field where that carnival had been, just trying to see it happen. Trying to imagine the deranged man that destroyed my family. Constantly searching for anything at all. A clue, a hint of something. But there was just nothing. No trace, no hope, no signs and any fragment of faith that I was clinging to died a little bit more with every new day that went by. I might have lost faith in, fuck, I don't know. Everything, I guess. I may have given up on everyone's ability to find him, but I never stopped hoping he was alive, no matter how awful of a person that made me. How could I be selfish enough to wish that my son was still living through whatever torment he was experiencing?

Losing my son was the absolute worst thing to ever happen to me. There's no way to describe how it feels to know that my innocent toddler was taken from us and likely murdered as a result. It was our fault, as parents. We were supposed to protect him. From everyone and everything that could hurt him, but we failed. The only thing that came close to the pain of losing Anthony was losing my wife shortly after. As if it wasn't hard enough to know that my boy was gone, my wife, my partner and best friend, left me too. Bella left me alone to deal with not one but two overwhelming losses, and I'd tried and failed to drown my despair every day since. She may as well have put the final nail in my coffin.

Over the last two years, I've buried myself in work trying to avoid life as much as possible. I've tried to accept the fact that the happy life I once took for granted would never come back. If I could do it all again, I would've spent more time with them. I wouldn't have worked so late or taken those weekend meetings. I wouldn't have missed anniversary dinners because work was just 'too important'. I wouldn't have sent my wife and son on a family vacation with my sister and her husband. I would've went with them. I wouldn't have missed the carnival that led to this nightmare. Maybe I could've prevented it. Maybe they'd still be here.

Scrubbing a shaking hand over my face, I swallowed the emotions that threatened to bring me to my knees as I heard that voice, one of the two that I missed every minute of every day. I pushed the memories back and sucked in a ragged breath. I realized I had been utterly silent for at least a minute. She said she wouldn't call. She said there was only one way that I would ever hear from her again. My heart stopped dead in my chest at the realization, and I tried my hardest to keep that damn hope from blooming in my chest. "Bella. They found him? He's alive?"

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A/N: We hope you guys enjoy this one, it's from the both of us. Follow us and our story for updates! We're looking at posting every Friday for Still Breathing, but don't worry! Our individual stories are still underway as well. Reviews make our hearts happy.

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