Nightfall

I shook in the back seat, nervous, anxious, and maybe slightly scared if I were being honest.

“We’re here.” said the driver curtly.

‘That’s right, we’re here,’ I silently scolded myself. ‘This isn’t the time for second thoughts, no, you chose this you idiot, you wanted this, now stick to your decision for once.’ Ironic though that I was arguing with myself to practically not run away from, well, running away.
I was too preoccupied with my own little inner turmoil that I didn’t hear what the driver had said after. I didn’t even notice if I gave him the right amount of money before I stepped out of the cab and into the airport without so much as a glance back. But judging by how I didn’t hear any protesting shouts or an angry man running after me, other than a scoff, I’m guessing I gave him more than he’d asked for. But I didn’t mind. What I did mind however was the fact that I was actually here, that I was actually doing this; I was running away.

I held my now crumpled ticket closely with my luggage in tow, trotting unevenly towards something that might either be the best decision I’ve made in a lifetime or my worst. I was running away to Forks. The gloom, doom, and well… wet, town of Forks — as how my cousin, Bella, would have put it. I didn’t hate Forks the way Bella hated it with a passion — not that I've been here in the first place, but I didn’t love it either. The sound of rain soothed me; going into one however, irritated me to death. With Forks being under a lot of rain and cloudy skies, you would see how this is difficult for me.

I’ve been saving up for this little escapade… actually, no. I’ve been saving up ever since I can remember, preparing myself in case I needed it or maybe to indulge myself into something I didn’t need but certainly wanted. I just never thought it would be on something so cowardly and selfish.

I started to feel guilty, again, for just leaving everything behind like that. I worried about how my mother would react, how she’d feel and how she would handle it. She was a complete opposite from her brother, Charlie. Aside from their physical features, they were hardly anything alike. It made it hard to see they were siblings with so much difference. While Charlie didn’t hover and had difficulty with expressing much thoughts and/or feelings, my mother is very open about hers. She’s awkward and a bit stubborn but she was fragile. Her tears would start spilling over a sad novel and romantic movies where someone dies or when she sees someone else, anyone else, crying. So whether I like it or not and no matter how much I hope to death she won’t, she will definitely be bawling over this and then I would be in so much trouble. Though she easily cried, she is no pushover; as much as she is a crybaby, she’s every bit resilient.

My dad was… just that. A father. My dad was the authoritative kind. He is the most stubborn person I know and it didn’t help that he didn’t know how to properly show affection. Not the Charlie kind of awkward, no. Hugs were very uncomfortable for us; kisses were out of the question. No ‘I-love-you’s or I-miss-you’s, I was not the girl who sat on her father’s lap on a Christmas day or on a birthday or on any day. At some point, I would have considered myself as a daddy’s girl but I can only wait for so long before the abandonment starts to sink in.

I felt horrible but only for a fleeting moment. None of that mattered because I was tired and foolishly fueled by anger. I’ve had enough of my parents’ bickering for the past eight years and suffocating me in between. They weren’t separated like Charlie and Renée but they certainly acted like one. The constant fights and leaving the house only to come back and act like a newly wed couple and then back to playing a divorced couple once again. There were times when the fights lasted for months that it even arrived to the point where I had to be passed around on certain days just so both parents could spend time with me – just as if I really were a child of a divorced couple. The fights have been longer and longer and now have gone on for six full years. It was six years ago when I last saw or heard from my dad when I finally took my stand that I didn’t want to keep moving. And last night, my mother brought me news of her new found love. I couldn’t accept it.

And then there was the issue with Bella – she needed me. I overheard it from mom and Charlie on the phone. They called each other every once in a while, but recently those calls have been more frequent. Bella was apparently the very definition of the living dead and it’s been really hard on Charlie. My mom tried to help, giving advices every now and then, even offering to let me come over and visit but Charlie said that none of the advices worked and that my visit would only be in vain. It hurt to see Charlie in such a struggle and in pain. And of course I was incredibly worried for Bella, but all that for some stupid idiotic boy who didn’t love her enough to stay enraged me.

I don’t know how I managed to sleep throughout the plane ride at all, but I did, and that made the flight bearable. But the musty feeling of the atmosphere Forks gave me did not. It felt entirely different now that I was sitting in another cab with a much, much saner state. It might have been because of the sleep or because I’m actually here and the thought of finally seeing Charlie and Bella comforted me. It was a little saddening though, that I didn’t have a warm welcome at the airport. Not a hug or a kiss and a drive home with the people that mattered like they enjoyed the fact that I was here. But who was I to blame but me? I chose to run away and leave nothing but a stupid note without any substantial information as to where I was going or what I planned to do.

Of course I couldn’t tell Charlie because for one thing, he already had enough on his plate. And on one hand, he’s a cop. He’s all for justice and laws and what’s right. On the other, he’s a very protective uncle. The best there’ll ever be, but still overly protective. Bella would have been a good choice except she hasn’t exactly been Bella lately.

I arrived at my hotel but it didn’t look like any of the ones back home. Although it is a small time town, so what else should I have expected? The woman at the front desk was friendly and accommodating; she helped me get settled into the room I reserved beforehand and explained how to work my way around the room and several rules I needed to follow. The room was clean and but it seemed outdated. The TV was set on a simple dressing table and the carpet did not look like it was meant to be walked on barefoot. The bed was comfortable and soft enough to give me a pleasant sleep rather than backaches and cramps for the rest of my stay. The toilet was clean and no disgusting odors as how I imagined it would be and the towels felt amazing. There was a small fridge on the corner and a microwave and I figured all that would be enough and cheaper rather than taking the room with a kitchenette. After all, this wasn’t home; this was merely a place I needed to crash on and survive, a small price to pay for the decision I made.

I dumped my luggage on a corner and slumped onto the bed, exhausted from my mental and emotional roller coaster. I kept my phone turned off to postpone dealing with my parents, and because I wanted to be completely cut off from whatever it was that connected me to anything back home.

I fell asleep in almost an instant with no idea what time it was. All I knew was that as soon as I woke up the next day, I would go and see Charlie.