All I Wanted Was the Truth

Dad, fortunately, let it slide that I'd come home with a new set of stitches. He had eaten dinner already, leaving mine cold in the fridge to heat up. He did it for me, arguing that I shouldn't be using my arm excessively.

I had no homework. I was extremely tired from my eventful day out, and decided to turn in early.

My room, dark and quiet, welcomed me with open arms. I changed quickly into some sweats and an old t-shirt, throwing myself down on the bed. I was asleep almost instantly.

My dreams were filled with screams of terror, blood curdling roars, and a pain that tore at my heart. Random images flew through my mind - a grizzly bear, ripping Emmett open - a strange, dark haired man snarling at Bella Swan - the same dark haired man ripping at Emmett - Edward, being torn apart by a tall, dignified man. The dreams lasted all throughout the night, right until my first waking moment all night, at eight o'clock.

My eyes snapped open; I was panting, clutching at my blankets. I had bitten my tongue so hard in my sleep I was practically choking on the blood.

I took a few moments to calm myself down. They were just dreams, I thought. They weren't real.

But the screams in my dream had sounded so real, and had pierced me and driven me to near insanity. I couldn't stop a few tears from trickling down my cheek onto my pillow.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of torturous quiet, I sat up and got dressed. My mind wandered constantly to the images of Emmett being hurt, but I shoved them aside angrily. Just a dream, I thought, over and over.

I went into the kitchen to find Dad had gone to Seattle for the day, to do who knows what. Probably to buy a new fishing rod.

I spent the day cleaning obsessively, not stopping until every surface sparkled and shone with obscene cleanliness. Once I'd scrubbed the entire house, I read one of my favorite books - The Stand. I read in my room, leaving the door closed, the window wide open.

I must've fallen asleep at some point, because I awoke to Dad telling me dinner was ready. I sat through the meal, staring groggily at the fridge.

And just like that, my Sunday was over.

I got into bed inexplicably early - nine o'clock - and tossed and turned for hours. For the entire day, I hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something bad was happening. An unpleasant feeling of malice crept up and down my spine, making me shiver.