The Sunlight in My Eternal Night

Never before had I felt such a sense of emptiness; as if I was a mere shell with no nut inside. Not just empty, however, tattered. I was a damaged being – more damaged than I had been before. I had never been more disgusted with what I was.

Leaving her, the very essence of my being, had been the hardest, most painful thing I, in all my years, had ever experienced. The look in her eyes as she took in what I forced myself to say almost broke me there in the forest. But I stood tall, though I’d have liked nothing more than to fall to my knees and plead with her to understand my position. How could I live with myself for putting her in such danger? How would I live if she died?

I’d promised her that she’d never see me again, and I had every intention of following through on that promise – until very recently. I’d felt my iron-strong determination waver as the months passed, deteriorating more every second spent away from her. I knew that I wouldn’t last much longer, and I was going to break my word and return. The thought filled me with mixed emotions – happiness at seeing her beautiful face again, anger at my weakness, disgust at my so-called ‘iron determination’, and worry. What if I went back and she had moved on, my original intention? Would I be able to walk away again and live life without her? I hadn’t even lasted these four months, how could I last the rest of eternity?

The only thing I’d had to occupy my time, something besides brooding over my painful mistakes, was tracking the very embodiment of evil. I took a sickening pleasure at the thought of finding and destroying Victoria, the malicious female who had developed the notion of killing Bella. I wanted to be the one to find her, to snuff out that threat to my own personal universe, my reason for staying on this God-forsaken earth.

I growled in frustration as I thought of Victoria, who had evaded me again. I was in an old warehouse on the coast of Nova Scotia, where I’d been for almost two days. Before Nova Scotia, I’d trailed her to Toluca, and before that I was in Artigas, Uruguay. After chasing her all over the world, I ended up here in Canada. This warehouse was empty, and I was weary – not from physical exhaustion, but mental strain. I sincerely wished that I could sleep, if not only to escape the constant thoughts of returning, going back on my word. If I could sleep, though, I’d be plagued by her face that day in the forest, eyes wide and bright with pain, vivid as a picture. I was already haunted by the image every moment of every day. Sometimes it became too much for my grief-ridden mind and I broke down. I couldn’t produse tears, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t cry. My shoulders shook with sorrow and rough sobs tore from my throat. I didn’t even care about my show of such weak emotion. I didn’t care about anything except her. My Bella, my Bella.