that—he was used to it now。
My nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone else。 Nothing jumped out
and screamed； 〃Boo！〃
There were no zombies； no ghosts； no psychopaths。 There was nothing； really。
Only nothing。 Just the
endless maze of moss…covered trees； so quiet that the silence was an
unfortable pressure against my
eardrums。 It was dark； like dusk on a cloudy day； with only enough light to
see that there was nothing to
see。 I hurried through the gloom without a path； always searching； searching；
searching； getting more
frantic as the time stretched on； trying to move faster； though the speed made
me clumsy Then there
would e the point in my dream—and I could feel it ing now； but could
never seem to wake
myself up before it hit—when I couldn't remember what it was that I was
searching for。 When I realized
that there was nothing to search for； and nothing to find。 That there never
had been anything more than
just this empty； dreary wood； and there never would be anything more for me
nothing but nothing
That was usually about when the screaming started。
I wasn't paying attention to where I was driving—just wandering through
empty； wet side roads as I
avoided the ways that would take me home—because I didn't have anywhere to
go。
I wished I could feel numb again； but I couldn't remember how I'd managed it
before。 The nightmare was
nagging at my mind and making me think about things that would cause me pain。
I didn't want to
remember the forest。 Even as I shuddered away from the images； I felt my eyes
fill with tears and the
aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest。 I took one hand from
the steering wheel and
wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one piece。
It will be as if I'd never existed。 The words ran through my head； lacking the
perfect clarity of my
hallucination last night。 They were just words； soundless； like print on a
page。 Just words； but they ripped
the hole wide open； and I stomped on the brake； knowing I should not drive
while this incapacitated。
I curled over； pressing my face against the steering wheel and trying to
breathe without lungs。
I wondered how long this could last。 Maybe someday； years from now—if the
pain would just decrease
to the point where I could bear it—I would be able to look back on those few
short months that would
always be the best of my life。 And； if it were possible that the pain would
ever soften enough to allow me
to do that； I was sure that I would feel grateful for as much time as he'd
given me。 More than I'd asked
for； more than I'd deserved。 Maybe someday I'd be able to see it that way。
But what if this hole never got any better？ If the raw edges never healed？ If
the damage was permanent
and irreversible？
I held myself tightly together。 As if he'd never existed； I thought in
despair。 What a stupid and
impossible promise to make！ He could steal my pictures and reclaim his gifts；
but that didn't put things
back the way they'd been before I'd met him。 The physical evidence was the
most insignificant part of the
equation。 I was changed； my insides altered almost past the point of
recognition。 Even my outsides
looked different—my face sallow； white except for the purple circles the
nightmares had left under my
eyes。 My eyes were dark enough against my pallid skin that—if I were
beautiful； and seen from a
distance—I might even pass for a vampire now。 But I was not beautiful； and I
probably looked closer to
a zombie。
As if he'd never existed？ That was insanity。 It was a promise that he could
never keep； a promise that
was broken as soon as he'd made it。
I thumped my head against the steering wheel； trying to distract myself from
the sharper pain。
It made me feel silly for ever worrying about keeping my promise。 Where was
the logic in sticking to an
agreement that had already been violated by the other party？ Who cared if I
was reckless and stupid？
There was no reason to avoid recklessness； no reason why I shouldn't get to be
stupid。
I laughed humorlessly to myself； still gasping for air。 Reckless in Forks—now
there was a hopeless
proposition。
The dark humor distracted me； and the distraction eased the pain。 My breath
came easier； and I was
able to lean back against the seat。 Though it was cold today； my forehead was
damp with sweat。
I concentrated on my hopeless proposition to keep from sliding back into the
excruciating memories。 To
be reckless in Forks would take a lot of creativity—maybe more than I had。
But I wished I could find
some way I might feel better if I weren't holding fast； all alone； to a
broken pact。 If I were an
oath…breaker； too。 But how could I cheat on my side of the deal； here in this
harmless little town？ Of
course； Forks hadn't always been so harmless； but now it was exactly what it
had always appeared to
be。 It was dull； it was safe。
I stared out the windshield for a long moment； my thoughts moving sluggishly—
I couldn't seem to make
those thoughts go anywhere。 I cut the engine； which was groaning in a pitiful
way after idling for so long；
and stepped out into the drizzle。
The cold rain dripped through my hair and then trickled across my cheeks like
freshwater tears。 It helped
to clear my head。 I blinked the water from my eyes； staring blankly across the
road。
After a minute of staring； I recognized where I was。 I'd parked in the middle
of the north lane of Russell
Avenue。 I was standing in front of the Cheneys' house—my truck was blocking
their driveway—and
across the road lived the Markses。 I knew I needed to move my truck； and that
I ought to go home。 It
was wrong to wander the way I had； distracted and impaired； a menace on the
roads of Forks。 Besides；
someone would notice me soon enough； and report me to Charlie。
As I took a deep breath in preparation to move； a sign in the Markses' yard
caught my eye—it was just a
big piece of cardboard leaning against their mailbox post； with black letters
scrawled in caps across it。
Sometimes； kismet happens。
Coincidence？ Or was it meant to be？ I didn't know； but it seemed kind of silly
to think that it was
somehow fated； that the dilapidated motorcycles rusting in the Markses' front
yard beside the
hand…printed FOR SALE； AS IS sign were serving some higher purpose by existing
there； right where I
needed them to be。
So maybe it wasn't kismet。 Maybe there were just all kinds of ways to be
reckless； and I only now had
my eyes open to them。
Reckless and stupid。 Those were Charlie's two very favorite words to apply to
motorcycles。
Charlie's job didn't get a lot of action pared to cops in bigger towns； but
he did get called in on traffic
accidents。 With the long； wet stretches of freeway twisting and turning
through the forest； blind corner
after blind corner； there was no shortage of that kind of action。 But even
with all the huge log…haulers
barreling around the turns； mostly people walked away。 The exceptions to that
rule were often on
motorcycles； and Charlie had seen one too many victims； almost always kids；
sm