Ash Over Seas

When Jacob ghosted into his English classroom he was back, submerged 1,000 leagues under the sea, as the world spun chaotically around him. He didn’t see the faces of his peers as he shuffled by the desks; he didn’t hear the whispers and chattering conversations about this and that; nothing registered with him anymore.

This was it. It was done. Over.

Essentially, Colby was gone. She had made that much clear to him.

Never.

The word crawled through his mind like a parasite, latching itself onto every nerve and cell, twisting them into torturous arrangements. He wanted to scream out in frustration but his lungs were frozen silent, his pain nothing but the ghost of a grimace on his face.

“Jake, come on, everyone’s already leaving,” said Cammie as she tried to pull him from his seat. He glanced around to notice that everyone had, in fact, left the room.

“Where are we going?” he murmured dully as he allowed her to pull him into a standing position.

“Library? Hamlet project?” she frowned as she stepped toward the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

His voice was flat and devoid of emotion but Cammie didn’t say anything more as she swept through the hallways.

Shuffling along behind her, Jake realized he had lost all passion for anything. There was nothing left for him to look forward to and at that point, he couldn’t have cared less what happened to him. Nothing mattered; he had nothing to lose.

He was the walking shadow of a once cheerful person. A shining sun, some would say.

Now he was nothing more than a massive solar flare.

He didn’t even react as Cammie lightly grasped his arm, her cool fingers curling around the sweltering skin of his forearm. He couldn’t even feel it.

His mind was set on the path of his future now that his imprint had left him for good.

He had no idea what to do with himself.

He wondered if he could bribe one of the Cullens to do him in, but then realized that Bella would never allow it.

He shuffled behind Cammie as she entered the library, her hand slipping away from him to pull the door open for them. He trailed along aimlessly, halting suddenly as his heart rate accelerated. His eyes, which had been roaming over the tables, fell immediately on a group toward the far wall. Seated around it were five familiar figures, laughing and smiling merrily. The light and airy sound of it trickled over to Jacob’s hearing.

His heart wrenched brutally as he saw Colby’s violet eyes glimmering with mirth while she chatted about something with Seth and Penelope. Colin and Brady, freshmen pack members, were also seated next to them. She seemed almost… excited. She was shaking slightly.

Somehow he couldn’t look away from her face.

How could she be so happy after what had just happened?

Maybe she didn’t care about him much after all, he thought bitterly as he plummeted further, reeling through and endless fall as the hope that had already drained from his heart was thrown out the window.

She was happy without him; that much was clear.

He ripped his eyes from the table before she could see his pain and turned toward the counter, where Cammie was already signing their names in.

“Come on,” she said, flipping her light hair over her shoulders. “We’ve got to go find that book from before.”

Her voice was cheery yet gentle as she smiled at him and towed him along once more through the twisting shelves of literature.

Jacob felt slightly relieved to be out of sight of his imprint. Seeing how carelessly happy she was only twisted the knife deeper into his already raw wound.

“Here we go!” Cammie smiled as she came upon the row of books belonging to Shakespeare and pulled out an old, tattered copy of Hamlet.

“Take that back table over there?” she suggested, pointing to the wooden frame down at the end of the shelves.

Jacob nodded absentmindedly and they sauntered over, slipping easily into the creaky oak chairs.

“You ready to get to work?” she grinned, trying to work some enthusiasm from him. It was a lost cause.

“Sure,” he murmured carelessly as she placed a blank piece of paper in front of him. He stared down at it and sighed, feeling absolutely no desire to think about a play written ages ago. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to pay attention.

“So I think we should focus the argument…”

Her voice was drowned out as Jacob stared unconsciously down, finding odd patterns in the grain of the wood before him. His mind roamed over possibilities of what to do now. He supposed he could always just hoof it back to Canada and try to find something worth doing up there—it’s not like anyone could stop him doing that. But then again, last time he left it had taken a toll not only on his friends, but his family as well. He owed them all enough not to do it again.

So this was it. He was trapped here by his own guilt and need to please his family; to please his pack.

He was sure soon enough they’d get sick of hearing his morbid, depressed thoughts on patrol anyway. Maybe they’d want him to leave again.

“Jake? Jacob? Jacob Black?”

His head snapped up as he brought his gaze to Cammie’s frustrated face. His dark eyes were confused as his mind snapped back into reality.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, grimacing sympathetically.

“What?”

“You,” she said, waving her arm toward him. “You’ve been out of it all day—all week, really. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, picking distractedly at the edges of his paper.

She frowned, not convinced, and rested her chin in her hands. She looked him over for a moment before sighing lightly.

“You can tell me, you know. I’m a pretty good listener,” she smiled softly, abruptly moving to take the seat next to him. “Sometimes it helps to talk to somebody,” she added, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He shook his head.

“It’s nothing you would understand,” he replied blankly.

“I can try.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

There was silence for several moments as her last words lingered in the air.

Of course she seemed to care. Why couldn’t Colby?

“You're really nice, Jake,” she continued, smiling as she leaned forward and tried to capture his gaze. “And you're quite a looker,” she added with a small smirk.

“Yeah, well, sometimes that’s not enough,” he muttered bitterly, sliding his now trembling hands down to his knees.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” she said to herself as she nodded in understanding. “Look, anyone would be stupid to turn you down, Jake,” she shook her head. “It’s not worth the trouble for someone who doesn’t care.”

“You don’t understand,” he spoke through gritted teeth as his fists clenched in his lap.

“Then talk to me,” she urged as she squeezed his arm lightly, her eyes alight with something Jacob hadn’t seen in a long time. “It helps to talk to someone, I promise you’ll feel better.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as he brought his elbow down to rest on his knee. His back arched over and it rose and fell with his deep, steadying breaths. He shook his head lightly as he pressed his palms against his eyes tiredly.

The ache in his chest throbbed and he realized that he finally understood the million times, after Edward had left, that Bella had clutched her arms across her chest in attempt to hold herself together. He finally knew what it was to fall apart, and he felt a late surge of sympathy toward the girl, and admiration at her ability to get by so well.

“No?” Cammie murmured quietly when he still hadn’t answered. “Well, sometimes I guess it just helps to have someone there, too.”

“Why do you care so much?” he snapped, frustrated with her constant hanging around him and trying to invade his life. He didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore.

He only wanted one thing and there was no equivalent substitute, even though she seemed to think differently.

“Jake…” Cammie trailed off softly, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

His hands moved to rake through his chopped hair as he tried to massage the tension from his scalp and neck.

“Look at me,” the girl ordered quietly, yet firmly, and when Jake didn’t move she tried again.

“Jake, look at me,” she told him sternly.

He slowly lifted his head, his tired and worn out eyes peering straight ahead as he turned his face over his right shoulder to observe her as his expression tightened slightly.

His eyes roamed over her face, looking for the reason behind her command. Her chocolate eyes seemed to bore into him like lasers, piercing through his body and riddling him like Swiss cheese. But he couldn’t see anything; the water surrounding him was preventing him from absorbing anything she said. She was just another blurry shape, so indistinguishable from all others. He would never find another; he was doomed for life in a one-way love.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve tried,” he whispered fiercely, finally breaking as his mouth began to spew his problems to this familiar stranger. “There’s something going on, something she won’t tell me… but she just…” he cut off, shaking his head hopelessly and burying his face in his hands once more.

“Shh,” the girl soothed, placing a consoling hand on his knee as she shook it gently, leaning forward comfortably. “It’s okay, she’s just one girl.”

“She’s not just one girl,” he growled. “She’s the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. She pulled me out of my last rut but now I can’t even get her. I’m right back sunk into another one. I have absolutely shit luck when it comes to this bullshit! Nothing I go for ever fucking works out. They always find something better out there and I’m just fucking left here with the short fucking straw!” he hissed frustratedly, shoving his back against the chair, his blazing eyes focusing on Cammie’s understanding face as the anger pulsed through his veins. She was so close… too close… but he couldn’t have noticed.

“So I’ve heard,” she whispered, so close he could count the tiny freckles on her nose as her eyes continued to hold his in a smoldering bind. “It doesn’t always have to be that way….”

There was a lingering moment where they just sat there. Jake was completely unaware of anything going on around them as they teetered on the edge of something new, unfamiliar, and potentially devastating. It was all set into motion as Cammie leaned forward the last few inches and crashed her lips on his, her hands gripping the sides of his face.

The shock was enough that he was unable to immediately move away, and the clouding of his senses prevented him from realizing the meaning of what he was doing. His mind began analyzing—making comparisons—searching for something.

But she was nothing like Colby. Cammie’s kiss was lustful and desperate, her cool lips molding in strange and unfamiliar patterns.

Still, Jacob searched within her for anything that might resemble his lost imprint, something he could latch onto and covet—any tiny part of Colby that he could replicate.

But she wanted him to move on. She didn’t want him.

He found his lips kissing back desperately as images of the raven-haired beauty filled his mind. He tried to push them away, honestly. He tried to feel something for this new girl who was so willing to be there for him, but he simply couldn’t.

He tried to move on like she told him to, but nothing felt the same as her.

His mind began to imagine that it was, in fact, Colby sitting in front of him, hands laced tightly into his hair and kissing him like he was the only thing that mattered on earth. And for a moment, he almost had himself convinced, but he knew deep down that no one would ever measure up to her.

Cammie finally pulled away, a breathy smile lighting her features as she beamed up at him. The fog clouding his mind prevented him from immediately feeling the rolling waves of nausea that he would feel as the guilt plagued his conscience.

“Wow. I, uh, that was a lot different than I expected,” she breathed, her slight smirk twitching the corners of her lips. He could almost see the smugness twinkling behind her eyes. He wondered if he was just a game to her.

“The bell’s about to ring,” she added as she gathered her books into her arms. “We should get back to the room.”

Jacob didn’t answer as he trailed along behind her, hardly able to comprehend what had just happened—if it had. It had almost felt like a sick dream that he’d fallen into, something his subconscious would fabricate to toy with his mind.

A new kind of nightmare.