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the bright golden arches of the McDonald's she was heading for。
Across the street there was one open business。 The windows were covered from
inside and there were
neon signs； advertisements for different brands of beer； glowing in front of
them。 The biggest sign； in
brilliant green； was the name of the bar—One…Eyed Pete's。 I wondered if there
was some pirate theme
not visible from outside。 The metal door was propped open； it was dimly lit
inside； and the low murmur
of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the
street。 Lounging against the wall
beside the door were four men。
I glanced back at Jessica。 Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead and she moved
briskly。 She didn't look
frightened—just wary； trying to not attract attention to herself。
I paused without thinking； looking back at the four men with a strong sense of
déjà vu。 This was a
different road； a different night； but the scene was so much the same。 One of
them was even short and
dark。 As I stopped and turned toward them； that one looked up in interest。
I stared back at him； frozen on the sidewalk。
〃Bella？〃 Jess whispered。 〃What are you doing？〃
I shook my head； not sure myself。 〃I think I know them〃 I muttered。
What was I doing？ I should be running from this memory as fast as I could；
blocking the image of the
four lounging men from my mind； protecting myself with the numbness I couldn't
function without。 Why
was I stepping； dazed； into the street？
It seemed too coincidental that I should be in Port Angeles with Jessica； on a
dark street even。 My eyes
focused on the short one； trying to match the features to my memory of the man
who had threatened me
that night almost a year ago。 I wondered if there was any way I would
recognize the man； if it was really
him。 That particular part of that particular evening was just a blur。 My body
remembered it better than my
mind did； the tension in my legs as I tried to decide whether to run or to
stand my ground； the dryness in
my throat as I struggled to build a decent scream； the tight stretch of skin
across my knuckles as I
clenched my hands into fists； the chills on the back of my neck when the dark
…haired man called me
〃sugar。〃
There was an indefinite； implied kind of menace to these men that had nothing
to do with that other night。
It sprung from the fact that they were strangers； and it was dark here； and
they outnumbered us—nothing
more specific than that。 But it was enough that Jessica's voice cracked in
panic as she called after me。
〃Bella； e on！〃
I ignored her； walking slowly forward without ever making the conscious
decision to move my feet。 I
didn't understand why； but the nebulous threat the men presented drew me
toward them。 It was a
senseless impulse； but I hadn't felt any kind of impulse in so long I
followed it。
Something unfamiliar beat through my veins。 Adrenaline； I realized； long
absent from my system；
drumming my pulse faster and fighting against the lack of sensation。 It was
strange—why the adrenaline
when there was no fear？ It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time
I'd stood like this； on a dark
street in Port Angeles with strangers。
I saw no reason for fear。 I couldn't imagine anything in the world that there
was left to be afraid of； not
physically at least。 One of the few advantages of losing everything。
I was halfway across the street when Jess caught up to me and grabbed my arm。
〃Bella！ You can't go in a bar！〃 she hissed。
〃I'm not going in；〃 I said absently； shaking her hand off。 〃I just want to see
something〃
〃Are you crazy？〃 she whispered。 〃Are you suicidal？〃
That question caught my attention； and my eyes focused on her。
〃No； I'm not。〃 My voice sounded defensive； but it was true。 I wasn't suicidal。
Even in the beginning； when
death unquestionably would have been a relief； I didn't consider it。 I owed
too much to Charlie。 I felt too
responsible for Renee。 I had to think of them。
And I'd made a promise not to do anything stupid or reckless。 For all those
reasons； I was still breathing。
Remembering that promise。 I felt a twinge of guilt。
but what I was doing fight now didn't really count。 It wasn't like I was
taking a blade to my wrists。
Jess's eyes were round； her mouth hung open。 Her question about suicide had
been rhetorical； I realized
too late。
〃Go eat；〃 I encouraged her； waving toward the fast food。 I didn't like the way
she looked at me。 〃I'll
catch up in a minute。〃
I turned away from her； back to the men who were watching us with amused；
curious eyes。
〃Bella； stop this right now！〃
My muscles locked into place； froze me where I stood。 Because it wasn't
Jessica's voice that rebuked
me now。 It was a furious voice； a familiar voice； a beautiful voice—soft like
velvet even though it was
irate。
It was his voice—I was exceptionally careful not to think his name—and I was
surprised that the sound
of it did not knock me to my knees； did not curl me onto the pavement in a
torture of loss。 But there was
no pain； none at all。
In the instant that I heard his voice； everything was very clear。 Like my head
had suddenly surfaced out
of some dark pool。 I was more aware of everything—sight； sound； the feel of
the cold air that I hadn't
noticed was blowing sharply against my face； the smells ing from the open
bar door。
I looked around myself in shock。
〃Go back to Jessica；〃 the lovely voice ordered； still angry。 〃You promised—
nothing stupid。〃
I was alone。 Jessica stood a few feet from me； staring at me with frightened
eyes。 Against the wall； the
strangers watched； confused； wondering what I was doing； standing there
motionless in the middle of the
street。
I shook my head； trying to understand。 I knew he wasn't there； and yet； he
felt improbably close； close
for the first time since since the end。 The anger in his voice was concern；
the same anger that was once
very familiar—something I hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime。
〃Keep your promise。〃 The voice was slipping away； as if the volume was being
turned down on a radio。
I began to suspect that I was having some kind of hallucination。 Triggered； no
doubt； by the
memory—the deja vu； the strange familiarity of the situation。
I ran through the possibilities quickly in my head。
Option one： I was crazy。 That was the layman's term for people who heard
voices in their heads。
Possible。
Option two： My subconscious mind was giving me what it thought I wanted。 This
was wish fulfillment—a
momentary relief from pain by embracing the incorrect idea that he cared
whether I lived or died。
Projecting what he would have said if A） he were here； and B） he would be in
any way bothered by
something bad happening to me。
Probable。
I could see no option three； so I hoped it was the second option and this was
just my subconscious
running amuck； rather than something I would need to be hospitalized for。
My reaction was hardly sane； though—I was grateful。 The sound of his voice
was something that I'd
feared I was losing； and so； more than anything else； I felt overwhelming
gratitude that my unconscious
mind had held onto that sound better than my conscious one had。
I was not allowed to think of him。 That was something I tried to be very
strict about。 Of course I slipped；
I was only human。 But I was getting better； and so the pain was something I
could avoid for days at a
time now。 The tradeoff was the never…ending numbness。 Between pain and
nothing； I'd chosen nothing。
I waited for the pain now。 I was not numb—my senses felt unusually intense
after so many months of the
haze—but the normal pain held off。 The only ache was the disappointment that
his voice was fading。
There was a second of choice。
The wise thing would be to run away from this potentially destructive—and
certainly mentally
unstable—development。 It would be stupid to encourage hallucinations。
But his voice was fading。
I took another step forward； testing。
〃Bella； turn around；〃 he growled。
I sighed in relief。 The anger was what I wanted to hear—false； fabricated
evidence that he cared； a
dubious gift from my subconscious。
Very few seconds had passed while I sorted this all out。 My little audience
watched； curious。 It probably
looked like I was just dithering over whether or not I was going to approach
them。 How could they guess
that I was standing there enjoying an unexpected moment of insanity？
〃Hi；〃 one of the men called； his tone both confident and a bit sarcastic。 He
was fair…skinned and
fair…haired； and he stood with the assurance of someone who thought of himself
as quite good…looking。 I
couldn't tell whether he was or not。 I was prejudiced。
The voice in my head answered with an exquisite snarl。 I smiled； and the
confident man seemed to take
that as encouragement。
〃Can I help you with something？ You look lost。〃 He grinned and winked。
I stepped carefully over the gutter； running with water that was black in the
darkness。
〃No。 I'm not lost。〃
Now that I was closer—and my eyes felt oddly in focus—I analyzed the shor