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seen grizzlies pretty close up in Yellowstone； but they had nothing on this brute。〃 His hair was matted；
and his clothes looked like they'd been on his back for more than a few days。 Fresh from the mountains。
〃Not a chance。 Black bears don't get that big。 The grizzlies you saw were probably cubs。〃 The second
man was tall and lean； his face tanned and wind…whipped into an impressive leathery crust。
〃Seriously； Bella； as soon as these two give up； I'm closing the place down；〃 Mike murmured。
〃If you want me to go…〃 I shrugged。
〃On all fours it was taller than you；〃 the bearded man insisted while I gathered my things together。 〃Big as
a house and pitch…black。 I'm going to report it to the ranger here。 People ought to be warned—this
wasn't up on the mountain； mind you—this was only a few miles from the trailhead。〃
Leather…face laughed and rolled his eyes。 〃Let me guess—you were on your way in？ Hadn't eaten real
food or slept off the ground in a week； right？〃
〃Hey； uh； Mike； right？〃 the bearded man called； looking toward us。
〃See you Monday；〃 I mumbled。
〃Yes； sir；〃 Mike replied； turning away。
〃Say； have there been any warnings around here recently—about black bears？〃
〃No； sir。 But it's always good to keep your distance and store your food correctly。 Have you seen the
new bear…safe canisters？ They only weigh two pounds…〃
The doors slid open to let me out into the rain。 I hunched over inside my jacket as I dashed for my truck。
The rain hammering against my hood sounded unusually loud； too； but soon the roar of the engine
drowned out everything else。
I didn't want to go back to Charlie's empty house。 Last night had been particularly brutal； and I had no
desire to revisit the scene of the suffering。 Even after the pain had subsided enough for me to sleep； it
wasn't over。 Like I'd told Jessica after the movie； there was never any doubt that I would have
nightmares。
I always had nightmares now； every night。 Not nightmares really； not in the plural； because it was always
the same nightmare。 You'd think I'd get bored after so many months； grow immune to it。 But the dream
never failed to horrify me； and only ended when I woke myself with screaming。 Charlie didn't come in to
see what was wrong anymore； to make sure there was no intruder strangling me or something like
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 uncomfortable 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 come the point in my dream—and I could feel it coming 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 compared 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 bl