Give Me a Sign

A Twilight fanfiction novel

Written by SheeWolf85

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot

are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously

copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is rated for adult content, including violence, language, and explicit sexual situations.

1

Prologue

Take this life

Empty inside

I'm already dead

I'll rise to fall again

-- Give Me a Sign – Breaking Benjamin

Renesmee

“You did this, you know?”

I turned to look at the girl, a perfect representation of me. Or rather, what I felt I should be. Her hair

was darker than mine―dark rust compared to bright copper―and her skin was paler, grayer. Her

eyes were white and clouded over with a milky film, but she was still me. The person I should have

become; the one I didn’t have the balls to become.

I shook my head like I did every single time she asked that question. It was useless because I knew

she was right. I caused this, and she gave me the chance to pay for it in a way I couldn’t do on my

own.

“If it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive,” she said, her voice as dead as she was. She reached out a

hand—her wrists covered in deep lacerations—and grabbed my arm. I tried uselessly to pull away,

but she was stronger. She was always stronger.

“I didn’t mean to,” I said, begging. No matter how many times I went through this, it never got easier

or less scary. She gripped my arm tighter and pulled it up to her, pulling out the old pocket knife. I

screamed and tried harder to pull away as she put the blade to my wrist.

I sat up straight in my bed, still screaming. My heart was pounding and my chest felt too heavy,

making it hard to breathe. I sucked in breaths, holding my wrist to my chest as I curled over myself

and closed my eyes tightly. The only sounds were my heart and my strangled breathing.

I sniffled and sat up a little, opening one eye. I was in my room, the lights off and the blanket over

the window blocking any light from entering. It was pitch dark, even though the clock on my

headboard read ten o’clock in the morning. I sniffled again and ran my hands through my hair,

tugging my fingers through the tangles. I turned slowly, my stiff back and legs making it difficult to

move quickly, and turned on the lamp on the small table beside my bed. My eyes squinted in the

light, and I took another deep breath.

I knew it had all been a dream, but somehow I hoped it would actually happen someday. Someday

she would really come for me and I would be freed from this. I couldn’t do it on my own; I was too

much of a coward. But I wasn’t afraid of hell. I was already there.

After a moment, I stood up to face another day alone.

2

Chapter One

Until the End Why give up? Why give in?

It's not enough; it never is

So I will go on until the end

I've lost my way

But I will go on until the end

-- Until the End - Breaking Benjamin

Renesmee

What do you do when the world as you knew it ends without a warning? When something

unexpected happens that turns your life upside down and inside out in a matter of seconds? How do

you continue on with your life when nothing is the same anymore?

I was still trying to figure that out. It had been nearly two years since the accident that killed my father. Almost two years, and I still

hadn’t figured how I was supposed to live. Life around me continued—the clock kept ticking, and the

sun still rose and set on its schedule. My heart kept beating, and I kept breathing, but it was all

meaningless to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut; I didn’t want to think about him right now.

The memories came anyway, and I grabbed my pillow, crying into it as I tried to just keep breathing.

My chest was closing in on itself, and I had to fight for every breath.

Deep inside, I knew that it was wrong and pathetic to still be mourning my dad. He wasn’t the only

person I’d ever lost. Grandpa Charlie had been my friend, too, and I didn’t cry over him anymore. My

dad was different, though. My dad had been my only friend for so many years, and I relied on him far

more than I should have. He protected me, sheltered me, comforted me, and fixed me when I was

hurt by taunts from classmates.

Now that he was gone, I was so lost.

I cried until my tears ran out, and I just lay there silently. I sniffled and made myself numb—my only

real way of dealing with anything. I don’t know how long I was there before my stomach growled, bringing me back to the present. I

looked up at the clock. Two-thirty . . . Shit. I slowly got out of bed and dug out my best ‘responsible adult’ clothes. They were a little big on me

since I’d lost some weight, but they looked okay. I still had some curves, so I figured I was doing all

right. I looked at myself in the mirror and scowled. My skin was pale—much paler than any other

3

person in Phoenix. I’d been called a ghost and a vampire before because of it.

There was a reason I was so pale. I had inherited my mother's photosensitivity; her allergy to the

sun. I suppose it could have been worse; I could spend some time in the sunlight. More than a few

hours, though, and my skin would break into a rash and sometimes blister. A whole day in the sun

could kill me. The allergy was one of the reasons I never had any friends. Everyone at school would

either laugh and make fun of me or just ignore me altogether in fear they’d get whatever I had.

The dark circles under my brown eyes resembled bruises, brought on by crying, oversleeping, and

generally not giving a shit about my appearance. My hair was stringy, not as healthy as it would have

been if I’d had any motivation to take care of it better. It was dark red, and some used to tell me the

contrast of it against my skin made me look gothic. In truth, I looked like a drug addict. I turned

away from the mirror and pulled out my ancient makeup bag, hoping I could still use some of it to

look like a human being today.

When I was done, I turned back around and looked in the mirror again. I sighed and ran my fingers

through my hair. I didn’t know what do with it. It never did what I wanted it to, anyway. I gave up

and just pulled the brush through to work the tangles out, wincing when I hit a particularly stubborn

nest.

Hair finished, I went to the living room and found my shoes. There was some deep, almost-hidden

part of me that was excited about today. It had been so long since I really did anything important,

and today was important.

As my dad’s only living relative, I received the life insurance money once I turned eighteen-- only a

week after the accident. It wasn’t any great amount, but it was enough to live off of for a time. That

time was just about two years, and now I was running out. Two months ago, I’d started rationing

what I ate so I could keep what little money I had left. The house was paid off, so thankfully I didn’t

have to worry about house payments. But I did have to worry about utilities, food, and the property

tax on the house. The inheritance had paid it last year, but this year I’d gotten a letter sometime in

January saying I owed twenty six hundred dollars. I ignored it. Now it was February, and I’d just

received another letter telling me that I still hadn’t paid it. I didn’t have a car, so I didn’t have to

worry about gas.

But money did not reproduce on its own, and I was very soon to be completely out of it. I didn’t

particularly like the idea of living without food and electricity, so I made a very important decision

and started applying for jobs in the area. I went to the library almost every other day to fill out

applications online and submit my laughable resume. I had no job experience; all I had was a high

school diploma. Luckily for me, some of the companies I applied for didn’t require any experience. One of them even

called me for an interview. It was not something that I would enjoy doing and I knew it, but at least it

would—theoretically—provide a steady income. My interview was today at three o’clock. The building was only fifteen minutes away if I walked quickly. I took a deep breath and walked out

of the house.

As I walked down the streets, I made another decision: once I had enough money, I would leave

Phoenix. I would go somewhere with as little direct sunlight as I could get. Somewhere in the

northwest would be good. I knew Seattle had a lot of rain.

4

I finally reached the building and walked in. A blast of cooled air hit my face, and it felt wonderful.

The front office was quiet except for the clack of fingernails on a keyboard. A large desk sat close to

the wall on my left with a sign above it that read Debt to Wealth in fancy script. A woman in a dark

suit sat behind the desk with a nameplate that just said ‘receptionist.’ Her dark brown hair was

pulled back into a bun so tight it looked like she should start screaming from the pain at any second.

She was typing away at the computer and ignoring everything else around her. I looked around the room to give her time to finish whatever it was she was doing. I was a few

minutes early anyway. The room was large, but not uncomfortably so. The walls were light gray with

a few paintings hung sparsely, and the floor was covered in generic, dark gray carpeting. The wall

behind me was made of windows, and the light poured in, making the room bright and comfortable

for anyone not allergic to the sun. I sat down by the desk in one of the chairs that were offered for just this reason. They were wooden

chairs with stuffed leather cushions. The near silence of the room amplified the sound of the leather

creaking beneath me. I crossed my legs and waited, looking around some more. There just wasn’t

enough to look at in here. Finally, the clacking stopped and the receptionist turned to me. "Can I help you?" she asked kindly. I stood up and walked to the desk. "Yes, I have an interview today at three with Mr. Brock." The woman turned back to the computer and clacked again. "What’s your name, hun?" she asked. I

wanted to tell her that my name was not ‘hun,’ but I refrained. I really wanted this job. Sort of. "Renesmee . . . Renesmee Masen."

“How do you spell that, hun?” She smiled politely.

I smiled back and spelled my name out for her, pausing after each letter to make sure she got it. "All right, have a seat again, and Mr. Brock will be with you shortly." "Thank you." I went back to the creaky seat and waited. She started typing again, clacking away. A few minutes later, a door on the opposite side of the receptionist opened. A man with short brown

hair peeked out. "Renesmee?" he asked, looking right at me. I stood up. "Yes, that's me." I kept chanting to myself, I need this job; I want this job; I need this job.

I had to at least make an attempt at making a good first impression. "Great. I'm Chris Brock," he extended his hand, and I shook it. His was almost limp. "Let's go ahead

and go back, and we can start your interview." I smiled and nodded, following him through the door. I looked around as we walked the perimeter of the call center. The cubicles weren't really cubicles,

they were much more open than I had originally pictured. The rows were set up diagonally. Each

5

placement had their own space, but the walls didn't extend to the edge of the desks. It made me

excited and nervous at the same time. I would be all but forced to socialize here; I couldn't hide in

my cubicle. Then again, I would probably just be ignored.

A few people looked at me as we passed, and some of them smiled. I tried to smile back. Even the

small interaction made me feel strange. Over the last two years, I hadn’t really been around people.

I had had very little interaction unless it was going to the store or ordering some sort of takeout. At

the same time, it felt sort of good to be acknowledged by these strangers. We walked for what felt like miles. Chris kept saying hi to people that walked by, and I chose to

watch the desks that we passed. Some people had a few of their personal things at their desks with

them, and for some reason that made me smile. One person had a picture of a child covered in

chocolate and looking at the camera like they knew they had just been busted. Another person had

a collection of Hot Wheels sports cars spread around. He held one of them in his hands as he talked

casually with the person on the phone.

We finally reached Chris’ office and walked inside. It was cluttered, and I tried to ignore it as I sat

down on one of the chairs in front of a large mahogany desk. He sat behind the desk and turned to

me. "So tell me a little bit about yourself, Renesmee." Half an hour later, I walked the fifteen miles back to the front desk. I felt sort of optimistic about the

job. Chris said he liked me, and he would just need to submit his opinion to his boss and wait for

approval to hire me. He said I should hear back within a few days to a week. I was in a fairly good mood—for me, that is—that I actually smiled a genuine smile to the receptionist. "Good luck, hun," she said as she clacked away at the keyboard. "Thanks," I said, not feeling sour about the ‘hun’ thing. I opened the door and the outside heat hit me like a slap in the face.

I stopped at the store on my way to grab some more packages of Raman noodles. While a part of

me was already starting to rejoice the end of the Raman noodles, I'd had them and canned soup so

often in the last few weeks that I was sure my system would go into shock if it ever got anything else. When I got home, I put the noodles away before digging out a can of soup. I heated it and poured it

into a bowl before going to sit down on the couch. I grabbed a book off the bookshelf and read as I

ate. I found my mind wandering to the things I could eat if I got this job. It paid fairly decent. I'd be

able to splurge at least once a month on something that wasn't a dire necessity. I'd buy steaks and

cook them using a recipe from the book my dad gave me. He had often commented on my mother's

cooking, saying she had been a great cook and even made a book with all of her own recipes. He

gave the book to me for my seventeenth birthday, the last birthday I celebrated before he died. I pushed that thought away, trying to ignore the gnawing pain in my chest that accompanied

thoughts of him. I finished my soup and closed the book, taking a deep breath as I got up to put my bowl in the sink. I

rinsed it out and set it down before leaning over the counter, resting my weight on my hands and

6

letting my head fall down between my arms. I wanted to believe that I was healing—emotionally anyway—getting better even just a little bit.

Everything as I knew it ended when he died, and it had taken a while to even accept that it had

happened. After nearly two years, I wanted to believe that I was starting to rebuild myself. But it was

moments like these when a simple memory of him would shatter what little I had been able to

rebuild that told me I was only lying to myself. I wasn't healing. I wasn't even trying, really. I only told

myself that I was so I wouldn't feel so pathetic. I raised my head back up and sniffled before going into my bedroom. It was still early but that didn't

mean anything to me these days. I had slept a lot of the time away anyway, why stop now? I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed. Clinging to my pillow, I let myself remember

him. I sobbed as the memories washed over me in rapid succession. My dad and I going to visit

Grandpa Charlie in Seattle every summer; my dad and I going camping; my dad brushing my hair; my

dad singing me to sleep when I'd have a nightmare; my dad hugging me tightly as we both cried

when Grandpa Charlie died. The very last words I'd said to my dad . . . Fuck you.

I must have finally cried myself to sleep, because when I opened my eyes, it was one o’clock AM. I

sighed and got up to turn off the light, running back through the darkened room to my bed. I leaped

onto it and pulled my covers up to my chin as I closed my eyes. By now I was somewhat of an expert

at going to sleep on demand.

~*~

The first day after the interview, I stayed inside and awake all day hoping for a phone call. I tried not

to be too discouraged when I didn't get one. After that, I resumed my routine of walking to the library

to surf the Internet for the allotted half hour and look for any books I hadn't read that looked

remotely interesting. I'd bring back the books I'd checked out and take others home with me in my

old backpack from school. A week and two days passed with no call. I was considering calling them back or just giving up hope,

but I couldn't decide which one I wanted to do. I was walking back home from the library when I

decided that I would call them if I still had the courage to do it when I got to my phone. The phone was ringing when I opened the door. I didn't rush as I closed the door and set my

backpack down. I went to the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I said, expecting a telemarketer. "Yes, may I please speak with . . ." they paused, probably trying to figure out how to pronounce my

name. ". . . Ren . . ." he paused and it sounded like there was someone talking behind him.

"Renesmee," he finally said, actually pronouncing it right. "May I ask who's calling?" I said, feigning interest. "Yes, this is Frank from Debt to Wealth. She had an interview with us last Monday, a week or so

ago."

7

My interest was piqued. "Yes, I remember; this is her.”

"Good. Chris gave your resume to me and had a lot to say about you. Could you come in for a

second interview?"

Seriously? "Sure," I said, feeling a little better. I listened as he rattled off different times that were

available and asked me to choose one that was best for me. Friday at two o'clock. I could do that. We hung up, and I found myself starting to panic a little bit. I was somewhat excited about having a

second interview, but suddenly I was terrified. I was almost twenty years old and I'd never worked

before. I hadn't even been around people very much for two years. I took a deep breath, trying to

calm my nerves. Today was Wednesday, so I had the rest of today and tomorrow to prepare myself. I kept to my routine until Friday. I walked to the library and back the next day. The days seemed to

be getting hotter already, and I hated it. Thankfully, everywhere I needed to go was within walking

distance and didn't take more than a half an hour to get there. Friday at one o'clock, I was ready to go. At one thirty, I left for my second interview. With any luck

other than my own, I'd leave with a time to come back Monday to start training. I walked into the front office to see the same receptionist sitting at the desk. Instead of the painfully

tight bun, though, her hair was loose and hung just past her shoulders. She lifted her head and

smiled at me when I came in. "Good afternoon," she said pleasantly. "Can I help you?" "Um, I'm here for another interview. Renesmee Masen." She smiled again and turned to type something into the computer. I noticed that her fingers didn’t

clack the way they had before. She must have clipped her nails. "All right, he'll be out in just a second,” she said after a moment. I thanked her and sat down in the squeaky leather chair. The office seemed eerily quiet now that her

fingers didn't clack. The sound of the keyboard still resonated throughout the room, but it was much

quieter now than I remembered it. I took a deep breath and looked at the scarce paintings on the

wall. There were two, both of them Monet from what I could tell. The door finally opened and Chris stepped out. I stood up and followed him wordlessly. We hiked

the seemingly unending journey to his office, and I wondered for the third time why in the hell anyone

would want their office so damn far from the door. When we finally reached the office, I didn't even

get a chance to sit down before Chris pulled a cord from his desk drawer and turned to me. "All right, Renesmee. We've decided that we do want to hire you, so instead of the traditional second

interview today, we're going to have you listen to some calls. You can see for yourself exactly what

we expect from you as a sales rep, okay?" "Great," I replied. I was suddenly nervous. What if this turned me off and I just couldn't work here? I

pushed that thought away and followed him out to the call floor. We went down a row fairly close to

his office, and he tapped a young woman on the shoulder. Her nameplate said Vikki Swanson.

8

"Vikki, I was wondering if Renesmee could sit with you and listen to a few calls. She'll be our new

hire." The Vikki lady smiled again and nodded. "Sure thing." She took the cord from him and started

setting it up. Chris pulled an empty chair over for me and I sat down. "I'll come get you in about a half an hour, okay?" he said. I just nodded and turned to Vikki. She got the cords set up and looked up at me. "I'm Vikki," she said brightly, holding out her hand. I shook it and smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you

. . . I didn't catch your name." "It's Renesmee.” I smiled and wondered if she might end up being my friend. She was a tiny little

thing with wild black hair and frosty blue eyes. "Okay Renesmee. Well, I've got the wy-jack set up, so let’s start taking some calls!" She turned back

to the computer and clicked on a few things. Nothing happened, and she leaned back in her seat

and turned back to me. "So how did you hear about the company?" "I heard about it online; I was submitting applications to different companies in the area and they

were one of them." I shrugged. It wasn't some life-altering thing that made me chant their name in

my sleep; it was just an application. "Oh . . . Nice." She turned back to the computer and pulled up a game of Solitaire. I figured they

must be slow today. I looked around the aisle. Two guys were talking to each other across the aisle

about some girl they both thought was hot. Apparently her boobs were big, too. There was another

girl at the end of the aisle, and she was actually on a phone call. There were a few empty seats,

including one right next to Vikki. I noticed that the computer at the empty seat was on, but the

person had been away for a while and the screen was black. I looked up at the nameplate and read

‘Jacob Black.’ I turned back to Vikki to see that she had almost won her game. I felt like standing up and singing

'hallelujah' when the phone finally rang. Vikki spoke quickly, getting through introduction and asking

for the caller's name. She followed a script that came up on her computer, only straying when the

person asked a question. She would pull up various boxes and read the answer almost verbatim. I

could so do that. Halfway through the call, the person named Jacob returned to his desk. I took a peek at him and if I

hadn't been sitting down already, I might have fallen down. To say he was not what I expected was a

bit of an understatement. Call center guys were supposed to be generic, somewhat-nerdy guys who

couldn't get a date if their life depended on it. Like the two other guys on this aisle. They were call

center guys. Probably taller than me (not hard to do; I was only five foot three), but not much

stronger. I could probably open a jar of pickles before they could. Jacob was not this guy. I hadn't been secluded long enough to forget my natural reaction to hot guys,

and Jacob was hot. He had dark hair cut short, his skin was dark tan, and from what I saw of his

eyes, they were dark as well. He looked like he would be strong, too―even through his tee shirt, I

could tell that he had some muscles. He probably had the type of six-pack that made girls like me

9

start drooling unconsciously. I licked my lips to be safe. He looked over at me and smiled before putting on his headset and turning back to the computer.

His smile was broad and friendly and somehow eased some of the tension in my gut. Well, dammit! Why couldn't I have sat with him? Vikki finally ended the call and smiled at me. I smiled back, although my attention was on Jacob as

he leaned back and stretched his legs. "Hey, Jake," Vikki said. I wanted to smack her. "How was your lunch?" He smiled that comforting smile and sat up. "Not bad. Who's this?" he said, looking at me. I think I

blushed. What the hell was wrong with me? I never blush. "This is Renesmee. She's a new hire and is sitting with me for a few calls. Renesmee, this is Jake." Jacob chuckled. "Having any luck with that?" he asked sarcastically. "I've had one . . . I probably won't get another one before Chris comes back, though." I sat back and watched their exchange. It shouldn't have bothered me that she could talk so easily

with him. After all, they sat right next to each other every day. How could they not start talking? But

I still felt a twinge in my gut of something I couldn't identify as I watched him smiling at her.

Whatever it was, it hurt and I didn't like it. "How do you like it so far?" he asked. It took me a minute to realize that he was talking to me. "Um, it's okay I guess." I shrugged. He nodded and turned when his phone rang. Damn phone. Chris came back and Vikki unhooked the wy-jack. I thanked Vikki for letting me sit with her and took

one more look at Jacob before walking away. "So what did you think?" Chris asked. "It was great," I said with more enthusiasm than I felt. "I could handle that." We went back to his

office and we set up a time on Monday for me to start my training. I was nervous and excited in a

way that made me feel like I could throw up. I wondered briefly what I was getting myself into.

Whatever it was, it didn't really matter because I needed the money.

10

Chapter Two

Waiting Void I can't fill.

The doctor tells me to relax and stand still

Prescribes me a new pill to quell my anger.

Wish I could make her pull herself up off the floor.

Waiting for this life to change seems like it's taking me forever

and I can't hold on. This light is breaking into the day

-- Waiting - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Jacob

This was it. I was quitting today. I didn’t need the job anymore, so why keep it?

I shook my head and corrected myself. I was putting in my notice today. I still had to endure two

more weeks of this crap.

I grumbled to myself as I put my stuff at my desk and pulled out my medication. I had what the

doctor’s called Bipolar Type I with tendencies of aggression. Speaking English, it took very little to

piss me off. I hadn’t been doing so well with remembering to take my meds, and I chalked it up to

stress.

My dad had been sick with diabetes for the last six years. Just a year ago, he got so sick that he

needed the kind of constant care I couldn’t give him, and I had him moved into a care center. It took

almost every dime he had to get into that place and on the right insurance, but it was worth it to have

him taken care of. I worked construction during the week and would spend whatever spare time I

had with him, making sure the place was taking care of him the way I would have. It wasn’t perfect,

but it sure as hell could have been a lot worse.

And then it got worse. Medicare dropped my dad because I was paying the bills, and I made too

much money. I tried to fight it, but they’d made up their minds. It was either focus my attention on

fixing the problem, or fight with them and have my dad kicked out of the care center for nonpayment.

I chose to find a way to make it work. I got another job and used my pay from the construction work

to cover his bills.

I had very little time to spend with him, but I did what I could. It never seemed to be enough to make

me happy. I wasn’t trying to be picky; I just wanted my dad to be comfortable in what little time he

had left. I hated to think that he wouldn’t be around much longer. At that point, the doctor had given

him four months to live. He only lasted two.

And here I am, two months after my dad’s passing, and I’m still working two jobs. The bills have

been paid off, he’d had a funeral he would have been happy with, and I was free to do what I wanted

with my life. There was just one problem: I had no idea what that was. I’d taken care of him for so

long, I didn’t know what to do with myself now that he was gone.

11

I sighed, bringing myself back to the present and took the medication. I took a deep breath and

reminded myself again that this was it. Nothing was going to stop me. I walked down the hallway to

Chris’ office, my boss. I knocked on the door jamb and waited for him to get off the phone. He hung

up and turned to me.

“Jake; how’s it going?” he asked, gesturing for me to come in. I went in and closed the door before

sitting down across from him.

“It’s going all right I guess.” I shrugged, not really able to say how it was going. It wouldn’t be work-

appropriate.

He nodded. He knew about my dad, and I honestly think he was afraid of pushing the topic. Afraid

of me was more like it. I was lucky I kept this job after I blew up on him a month before my dad died.

He’d said he understood, but every time I talked to him after that he always seemed slightly

apprehensive.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, fidgeting with a pen he had on his desk.

I pulled out the piece of paper showing my official notice. “I’m giving my two weeks,” I said, sliding

the paper over the desk to him. He picked up the paper and frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jake. You’ve been a great employee,” he looked over the paper for a moment

before looking back up at me. “What can I do to ask you to stay?”

I smirked. “Sorry, I’ve made up my mind.”

He sighed. “All right. Well, I’ll have this filed for you.” He held out his hand and I shook it briefly.

“Thanks.”

I went back to my desk and sat down. Vikki was at her spot beside me filing her nails, and she

smiled at me.

“Hey, Jake. How are you?” She always seemed too sweet, like she was overcompensating for

something. She was nice and all, but the pity in her eyes was unmistakable. I didn’t like pity.

I shrugged as I turned on the computer. Only two more weeks of this . . . “Not terrible. How are

you?”

She blew on her nails before filing some more. “Pretty good. My boyfriend and I are going out to see

that new movie tonight and I’m so excited. Have you heard about it? It’s called ‘Love Spell’ and it’s

about this girl who buys a potion to make her friend love her when he was going to propose to his

other girlfriend, but then it backfires and makes the girlfriend go all psychotic. It looks so good.”

I wasn’t even sure if she’d taken a breath during that. I smiled and turned to the computer. “I

haven’t heard of it. You’ll have to tell me if it’s any good.” I humored her because I knew her

intentions were good, and her talking was enough to get my mind off of my life for a while. I got

everything set up and settled in to start taking calls.

It was a slow day. I only had five calls before lunch. I went on my lunch and pulled out my phone to

text my friend Leah. I’d met Leah three years ago on the construction site, and we became great

12

friends almost immediately. We even tried dating for a while, but we weren’t happy together. She

really was a good friend, but if we tried to push it further than that, we’d end up fighting more often

than not. After we broke up, she met Sam and decided she was in love. Sam was way too damn

serious, like he was born with a stick up his ass. He treated her well, though, so I couldn’t really

complain.

I spent my lunch talking to Leah over text. There was some new foreman on the site, and she hated

him already. Change did not suit Leah very well, and she usually threw a few tantrums before she

realized it was what it was and she didn’t have any say over it.

I sighed when I realized my lunch was over. I grumbled to myself again as I went back to my desk.

Before I even made it to my chair, I noticed someone else sitting with Vikki. Vikki was on a call, so

she was pulled in close to the computer while the new girl was watching the screen with her. She

was pretty with long auburn hair, and her skin was so pale that I wasn’t even sure she was from

around here. One would think that, living in Phoenix, she’d at least have some color in her skin. It

was pretty anyway, and the dark color of her hair contrasted well with it. She looked over at me and

met my eyes, hers dark brown and beautiful. I smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. The look in

her eyes confused me. She looked sad.

I turned to the computer to get my bearings straight and clock back in from lunch. I tried to appear

like I wasn’t watching the new girl out of the corner of my eye as I leaned back and pretended to

stretch. Vikki finished her call and smiled at me.

"Hey, Jake, how was your lunch?” she asked.

I sat up, turning to her. My eyes strayed to the other girl’s hair. “Not bad. Who’s this?” I asked. The

new girl blushed. It was cute.

“This is Renesmee. She’s a new hire and is sitting with me for a few calls.” She turned back to the

girl and told her my name. I was going to have to ask the girl what her name was again, because

honestly I had no idea what Vikki said.

I chuckled, trying to convince myself that it was normal to be unable to look away from her like this.

“Having any luck with that?” I asked.

"I've had one. I probably won't get another one before Chris comes back, though."

I nodded and watched the new girl lean back in her seat. She didn’t look very comfortable and her

eyebrows were furrowed just enough to be noticeable. I tried to keep my eyes on Vikki and pay

attention to what she was saying, but I could only see the other girl. I wanted to ask her what her

name was again and ask her why she was so sad. Vikki finally stopped talking and smiled at me. I

smiled back apologetically; she knew I wasn’t paying attention to her.

“How do you like it so far?” I asked the new girl. She was startled as she looked up and met my

eyes.

“Um, It’s okay I guess,” she said, shrugging. Even her voice was sad.

Just then the phone rang and I wanted to ignore it. I was quitting, after all . . . I turned away and

answered it anyway, keeping my frustration to myself when Chris came back and took the girl away. I

hoped she got the job and that I could talk to her a little in the next two weeks.

13

~*~

Saturday was my day off of everything―my day to do whatever I wanted. I usually spent my time

fixing anything that needed to be fixed on the house or my car, but nothing needed fixing today.

Everything was in perfect condition. Leah was working so I couldn’t bug her. I didn’t know what to

do with myself.

I played around on the Internet for a while, looking up useless information and generally wasting

time. When I got tired of that, I went for a walk. Throughout the whole day, I found myself thinking of

the new girl at the call center. It bugged me more than I thought it should that I didn’t know her

name.

Nights were the worst for me. No matter how much medication I took, I still missed my dad. I

missed the nights we would stay up until four o’clock playing cards and talking about nothing

important. We’d leave talk of funeral plans and inheritance alone for the daytime hours when it

would actually do some good. I missed the times when he would open up to me and talk about his

fear of dying, even though I hated it so much at the time. He wondered if he’d be with my mother,

who died when I was little. I realized now that it was those times when I was closest to him. He had

eventually gotten over the fear and accepted what was going to happen.

Sunday was back to work on the site. I was early, as usual, and got ready to work. Leah had today

off, so we texted on and off throughout the day. She was concerned for me, and unlike some of my

other friends, she didn’t try to hide it. She was always upfront about everything. Some people called

her a bitch—she could be when she wanted to be—but she also had a heart. She just knew how she

liked things, and she’d be loud if she didn’t get them that way. I tried to reassure her that I would be

okay, but she saw right through me.

Monday morning I met Leah at the site. She was usually early like me, but her reasons were

different. She liked the work and wanted to show all the big tough guys that a woman could handle

the construction as good as, if not better than, any man. She pulled her black hair back in the pony

tail she always wore, and we got to work.

She teased me about being a sales person again, but I ignored her. Throughout the day, I worked

hard and laughed with my friends, though my mind was not completely with it. Every few minutes I

would wonder if the girl got the job, and if she was in her training class yet.

“You’re distracted. What’s up?” Leah asked as we were getting ready to pack up our stuff and go.

I just rolled my eyes. She knew me too damn well. I couldn’t really complain; I knew her just as well.

“Is it that guy from Medicare?” she asked, probably going down her mental checklist of ‘things that

could be wrong with Jacob.’ Medicare wanted some kind of payment now that my dad was dead,

even though I hadn’t heard from them for over a month.

I sighed. She wouldn’t give up, and she’d know if I lied. Damn woman.

“No, he’s left me alone for a few days.” I turned around and leaned against the scaffolding. “It’s too

damn hot.”

14

“Right, you’re complaining about the heat. I’m sure. Is it a girl?” She narrowed her eyes, watching

me closely. I must have shown some sort of reaction, because she gasped. “It is a girl! What’s her

name?”

I rolled my eyes again. “I don’t even know her, Leah. I met her for only a few minutes on Friday.

She’s a new hire at Debt to Wealth.”

“Ahh, so you’re hankerin’ to get back there and check her out some more?” She mimicked my pose,

leaning against the scaffolding and looking up at me with teasing eyes.

“Leah . . .”

“Is she pretty?”

I grumbled. “Yes, she’s pretty.”

“Name?”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Do you have to do this now?"

“Yes. Name?”

“I don’t know,” I growled.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know. What the hell else could I mean?”

“Why are you getting all huffy over me asking about her?”

“You tell me.” I was being childish, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I knew she’d forgive me

anyway.

“Because you like her. Like really like her. More than you like me.” She mock pouted.

“Whatever; I just met her on Friday, how can I really like her?”

“Well, haven’t you ever heard of ‘love at first sight?’” she asked, batting her eyes a little.

“Sure, sure.” I checked my watch and gathered up my tools. She helped and we took everything

back to the supply office and left.

“You need a ride?” I asked.

“Nah. Sam’s gonna be here in a few to get me. Thanks, though.” She hugged me quickly and I

squeezed her back. “When you see her tomorrow, pay attention.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that if I see her tomorrow.” I saw Sam coming up the street, so I waved one last time

and got into my car.

15

I found that I was actually eager to get to the call center on Tuesday. There was only one reason I

was eager, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I walked in and went to my computer, setting everything up

and not admitting to myself that I was already looking for her. Vikki smiled at me, and I nodded my

head. I took my meds and got the computer ready to work. It was a little busier today, and soon I

had enough to hold my attention.

On my lunch, I thought about walking around to see if I could find her, but I decided not to. What

would I say if I saw her? Hey, I’m Jacob. Remember me? I haven’t thought of much other than you

the last few days. Yeah, that’ll get her talking.

I walked into the break room, and I’m pretty sure I heard the universe laughing when I saw her sitting

at one of the tables, her head down on her arms. I looked around to find something I could be doing

other than watching her like a creepy old man. There was an ice machine behind her, so I grabbed a

cup and walked past her to fill it with ice. I rolled my eyes. I could be smooth, couldn’t I? No, I

couldn’t. I was an idiot, and I knew it.

She jumped when she heard the ice machine and turned to look at me. Her eyes were wet, and I felt

a pang in my chest as I looked at her. What could be so bad that she spent her lunch crying?

I gestured to the seat beside her. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked.

She just looked at me for a few seconds like she didn’t understand what I had just said. Finally, she

answered, “Sure, go ahead.”

I sat down next to her and tried to act somewhat normal. How would I have normally acted around a

pretty girl? I would have flirted with her, no doubt. But somehow flirting with the girl didn’t seem

right. I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. I didn’t even know what kind of impression I

wanted to give her. It was confusing as hell.

"I'm Jake," I said, praying to God that I could finally get her name.

She nodded her head. "Renesmee." Her voice was weak.

What an odd name. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” I leaned forward, hoping to finally catch

it.

She sighed a little, but it sounded weary rather than annoyed. “It’s Renesmee. Confusing, I know.

You can call me Nessie, if you want.”

I nodded, thankful for the nickname. “All right, Nessie.”

We sat there quietly for a minute as I tried to think of something to say.

“You okay?” I asked before I could stop myself.

She wiped her eyes hastily and sniffled. “Yeah, I’m all right. Just a crappy day, I guess.” She

shrugged, like she was really trying to believe that was why she was crying. She looked at me again

and our eyes locked. There was something very deep running through her. She wasn’t just sad, she

looked really hopeless. I didn’t ask about it, knowing she probably wouldn’t want to talk about it at

work.

16

“I’m sorry,” I said. It didn’t seem like enough.

It was quiet again for a few minutes. She sniffled every now and then, and a phone rang somewhere

out on the floor.

“How do you like training so far? Aside from the crappy day.”

She shrugged again. “It’s all right.”

I nodded. Why was I having a hard time getting this girl to talk? I don’t want to sound all high and

mighty, but girls usually wanted to talk to me. There had even been a few that I couldn’t get to shut

up. It never really bothered me, but the way this girl all but refused to talk to me was somehow

unsettling. It wasn't so much that I wanted to know what was wrong with her, even if I did. It was

more that I wanted to get to know her, to be her friend.

“So are you on your lunch?” I asked pathetically, looking into the cup of ice. Ice? What was I

thinking?

She sighed. She must have thought I was pretty pathetic too.

“Yeah,” she said, laying her forehead back down on her arms.

I had to think of something fast. I didn’t want her thinking that I was really this boring.

“Tired?” Man, I was brilliant today.

She nodded without lifting her head. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms, looking up at the

ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turn her head and look at me. She was silent for a

while, just looking in my direction.

"You?" she asked in a quiet voice.

I lifted my head to look at her. "Yeah kinda. Too much shit going on, you know?"

She just nodded. There was another minute of silence before one of the trainers poked her head in.

"Renesmee, your lunch was over like ten minutes ago. Come on."

Nessie narrowed her eyes at the girl before standing up. She didn't say anything, but she offered me

a half-wave before exiting the room.

I sighed and looked at my watch. My lunch was just about over, so I got up and threw the cup in the

trash before going back out to the computer.

17

Chapter Three

Infected I'm infected by your genetics

And I don't think that I can be fixed

No, I don't think that I can be fixed

Tell me why, oh why are my genetics such a bitch?

--Infected – Shilo, ‘Repo! The Genetic Opera’ soundtrack

Renesmee

My first day of training . . . My first day of life in two years. I was scared out of my mind on Monday as

I brushed my hair, only glancing in the mirror long enough to make sure it looked decent. I really

didn’t care. As long as I didn’t look like I’d just woken up, I was fine. I put the brush down and went

back to my room, my hands still shaking from the dreams of forced suicide I’d had the night before. I

took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes, trying to push away all of the feeling and just be numb

for a while.

I walked down to the building and found the training room fairly easily. I took a spot at the back of

the room like I’d done in school and looked down at the desk, ignoring other people as they came in

and took their seats. I did finally look up when the trainer came in and started speaking to the class.

I decided I hated her when she had us stand up and introduce ourselves. We weren’t in high school;

we were at work. I listened half-heartedly as she started, introducing herself as Amanda and telling

us that she loved horses. Useless crap we didn’t need to know. The others in the room stood up,

each giving more useless information that nobody wanted to know. When it was my turn, I took a

deep breath and decided it would be least painful to just get it over with. I stood up, but looked

down at the carpet as I spoke loud enough that I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.

“My name’s Renesmee and this is my first job.” I kept it short and sat back down as quickly as I

could.

I heard someone snicker and say something about not seeing the sun much. I mentally stuck my

tongue out at them and sighed. I was back in high school.

My attitude didn’t improve much throughout the day. When lunch came, I went into the lunch room

and found my cup of Raman noodles in the garbage, my name still written on the package. I sighed,

figuring it was just my luck that my lunch would be stolen, and went back to the training room to wait

out the rest of the break. A few people were back in the room with some kind of takeout, and my

stomach rumbled when I smelled it. I groaned internally and just went back to my seat. They were

talking amongst themselves about some trip to an amusement park. I looked up briefly, and the girl

in the middle with bleached blonde hair saw me.

“Do you want to come? It will be fun.” She had one of those smiles that reminded me of a deranged

housewife.

18

“Thanks, but I can’t,” I said, looking down again.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be a lot of fun. You have to come.” She was the kind of peppy that made me

think of cheerleaders high on speed. I hadn’t even talked to her for two minutes, and I was already

contemplating smacking her across the face. I took a deep breath.

“I can’t go. I can’t be in the sunlight for a long time.” I shrugged, looking back up at her.

“Whatever, that’s a lame excuse,” she looked me over. “You're way too white anyway; you need

sun.”

Anger and hurt bubbled in my chest, but I made an attempt to squish it. "Really, it's the truth. I have

an allergy to the sun, and―”

She interrupted me. "Nobody's allergic to the sun." She laughed and looked back at the people

behind her, mumbling something. The people laughed and I heard the words ‘vampire’ and ‘freak’.

I reacted without thinking. “Fuck you, bitch.” She turned back to me, her eyes wide. “You want to

see my skin turn red and blister? Because that’s what will happen if I go.”

She and her groupies just stared at me. I didn’t wait for a response. I got up and walked out of the

room, going back to the break room to wait for the lunch break to be over. I couldn’t believe how

badly I’d already fucked up. Any chance of having friends here had just been destroyed. Yay me.

When training was over, I went back home and heated up Raman noodles for dinner. I went to bed

early, exhausted from a day of dealing with people.

Tuesday was different; worse and better at the same time. Very few paid any attention to me, but I

heard a whisper or two involving freaks and skin diseases. I tried not to let it get to me, but it was

impossible to push it all the way away. Those that did acknowledge me either made it fast and

obvious that they didn’t want to, or were so sickeningly over-sweet that I wanted to punch them.

At lunch, I realized that I had been stupid enough to leave my cup of soup in the break room

cupboard. It was in the trash again. I didn’t bother going back into the training room. I sat down at

the table I had used the day before and tried not to cry. I wondered why I was even doing this to

myself. I could go jobless, lose the house and any money I have, be homeless and die after a few

days in the sun. It might be painful, but didn’t I deserve that?

I sighed and put my head down on my arms. I knew why I was doing this. As much as I knew I was

the catalyst behind my dad’s death, I had his survival instinct. I couldn’t intentionally do something

that I knew would kill me, and letting the house get taken would kill me, one way or another.

I heard someone come in a few minutes later. I didn’t look up. I didn’t really care who it was as long

as they left me alone. The footsteps moved behind me, and I jumped when I heard the ice machine

growl loudly. I gave in to curiosity and looked up to see who it was.

Jacob turned around smiled at me. I groaned inwardly. He would have to be here when I looked like

I’d been run over by a Mack truck. He didn’t run away like I’d expected him to. He gestured to an

empty seat beside me.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked.

19

I looked at him for a minute, trying to decipher his motives. In the end, I just went with it. “Sure, go

ahead.”

He sat down and fidgeted with his cup of ice for a minute before looking over at me.

“I’m Jake,” he said.

I didn’t bother to remind him that we’d met before. “Renesmee.”

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He leaned closer.

I sighed. I had a feeling the only reason my mother’s wishes regarding my name were actually

honored was because she died giving birth and everyone felt bad. I wondered briefly why I didn’t just

tell people my name was Anne, my middle name. It wouldn’t get as many weird looks and questions

of clarification. “It’s Renesmee. Confusing, I know.” I told myself not to do it, but I did it anyway.

“You can call me Nessie, if you want.” It was my nickname. My grandpa had given me the name

before I could remember.

He nodded. “All right, Nessie.”

Everything was quiet again for a few more minutes. Jacob looked around while I tried to figure out

why he was spending his break in here with me. As good-looking as he was, it was almost a given

that he was popular here, especially with the ladies. He probably had several women who would give

their left eye to have him smile at them. I kind of hated myself for being in that crowd.

“You okay?” He asked suddenly. I quickly swiped under my eyes and found all my efforts to keep the

tears in had been in vain. I sighed.

“Yeah, I’m all right.” He didn’t want to know how bad my life sucked. “Just a crappy day, I guess.” I

looked up at him and he just stared back. I noticed for the first time that his eyes were beautiful.

They were dark brown, almost black, but they were deep and full of expression. They made my chest

ache deep inside.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his eyes told me he meant it. I didn’t want him to be sorry for me, though,

so I just shrugged. I couldn’t think of any brilliant conversation starters. Truthfully, I just wanted to

crawl under the table and hide.

“How do you like training so far? Aside from the crappy day.”

I couldn’t understand why he wanted to know, but I gave him an answer anyway. “It’s all right.” I

shrugged again.

He nodded, and I sniffled again. I wanted to roll my eyes at my luck: sitting next to Mr. Hottie of the

Year with snot running down my face.

“So are you on your lunch?” Jacob asked, looking down in to his cup of ice like he was wondering

why it was melting. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at it, and I couldn’t help but notice

the crease between his eyebrows or how gorgeous he looked with it.

I sighed. Lunch . . . Right. I put my head back down as my stomach growled again. “Yeah.”

20

“Tired?”

Boy, he wasn’t giving up. I just nodded because I didn’t really have anything to say. I was boring,

and he was going to realize it sooner or later. I heard him sit back in his chair and turned my head to

look at him. His arms were folded across his chest, showing off the muscles I knew he had. Some

twisted part of my brain tried to convince me to reach out and squeeze his bicep. I looked away from

his arm to his face. His head was leaned back as he looked up at the ceiling. He looked tired, too.

“You?” I asked.

He raised his head and looked at me for a second. “Yeah. Too much shit going on, you know?”

I had no idea what kind of shit he was talking about, but I knew what he meant. I nodded, and we

were quiet again until someone came in. I looked up to see Amanda poke her head in the room.

“Renesmee, your lunch was over like ten minutes ago. Come on.”

I glared at her for a second before getting up. I wasn’t sure what to say to Jacob, so I just waved and

left.

When I got home, I dug out a package of Raman and put the pot on to boil. I got out my notebook

with notes from work and set it on the coffee table, and then went to put the noodles and seasoning

in the pot. I was so sick of Raman I could puke, but what else could I do? I only had four cans of

soup left, and I really didn't want to spend any money to get more. The electric bill was due next

week and if I didn't pay it . . . well, I didn't want to go there. I also didn't want to think that my very

last fifty bucks was going to them. After I paid it, I would be officially broke.

I turned the burner off and poured the soup into a bowl. It was hot, but I carried it quickly to the

coffee table and set it down. I went over the notes I'd taken as I ate, trying to remember the context

of each sentence. We were just going over the program right now. It seemed decent enough. I

hated that I would have to sell it. Frankly, I would give anything to have a credit card right now. I

might be just a little more careful than some of the people who would be calling in. I'd still go in

debt, but at least I would have something good to eat.

I pushed that thought away and finished my soup.

~*~

The next morning I woke up screaming at five thirty. I could never predict when I was going to dream

of the dead version of myself, and it seemed to shake me up regardless of whether I thought I was

prepared or not. I didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. I got up and got ready for work, and then

read for a while until it was time to leave.

I got to work almost fifteen minutes early and scowled at the training room. I did not want to sit in

there, so I went to the break room. Like it was so much better.

I sat down at one of the tables and just looked around. The whole room was white. Even the damn

vending machine was white. It was almost creepy. It would be the perfect place to film a murder

scene, I decided. The red blood would look good against the white tile on the floor and the white

cupboards. Even a few spatters on the counter tops.

21

I shook my head to get rid of my gruesome thoughts.

A few minutes later, I saw Jacob come in with a bag. He smiled at me and put his bag in the fridge. I

tried to smile back, but I’m sure it looked bad.

“Hey Nessie. How are you today?” he asked as he sat down across from me.

I shrugged, a little surprised that he still wanted to talk to me. “All right, I suppose.”

“I guess it’s too early to ask if you’re having a better day than yesterday, huh?” He smiled, and I felt

my lips pull up at the edges. His smile was contagious.

“Maybe. I hope it’s better,” I clasped my hands together, intertwining my fingers. “How are you?”

He shrugged. “Not bad.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but someone outside

the break room called his name. He smiled as he stood back up. “I’ll see you later.”

I hung out in the break room for a few more minutes before taking my bag and going back into the

training room. People were already sitting in their seats, but nobody looked at me. I didn’t care; as

long as they left me alone. Fuckers.

Someone from the sales management team came in to talk to us about how to make sales, and I

fought to keep my eyes open. I tried to take notes, but I had to put the pen down and stretch my

hand a few times. I swear that lecture would not end. The man speaking was short, probably an

inch or so shorter than me, with graying hair and a healthy gut. His voice and presentation were just

about as interesting as watching static on TV.

The presentation finally ended, and it was time for questions. One girl in the front asked a question

that had already been answered. I answered her in my head before the short, stocky guy answered.

In my notebook, I wrote, pay attention, idiot! A few legitimate questions were asked before the girl in

the front decided she needed to expand on the question she'd asked. Really, she must have been

dropped on her head as a kid. A few times.

Okay, so that was mean, but it was probably true. I was hungry and irritable, and I just couldn't care.

After the girl finally understood what had already been explained, Amanda took over the training and

went over the materials we'd already covered yesterday. I sighed and took notes anyway.

At lunch, I took my cup of soup that I had kept in my bag and went into the break room. I was proud

of myself for having the brains to keep it with me instead of being an idiot and leaving it out for

whomever the hell was stealing it. I filled the cup with water and put it in the microwave, standing

beside it protectively as other people came and left. When it was done, I went to my table.

Jacob came in a few minutes later and sat down next to me like he had the day before. We didn’t

say much today, but it still felt strange in a good way to have him there. When my lunch was over, I

waved at him again and went back into the training room. I wondered if he was going to sit by me

during his lunch every day, and what he could possibly want of me. Maybe he just felt bad for me. I

knew there was no way he hadn’t heard the rumors about me flying around.

22

The next day at lunch, I sat down at my table and waited for Jacob. This day, he didn’t sit by me. He

didn’t even come in the break room. I sighed heavily, wondering if he’d finally come to his senses

and decided he didn’t want anything to do with me, much like everyone else here.

I was depressed by the lack of Jacob, and when I got home, I skipped dinner and went right to bed. I

lay in bed for a while, trying to decide why I was so upset about Jacob not sitting by me today. In the

end, I decided it was just because he was the closest thing I had to an almost-friend, and it hurt to

know that even he didn’t want to be around me anymore. I sighed and closed my eyes, forcing my

thoughts away from Jacob.

Friday was casual day so I wore my jeans and a normal t-shirt to work. I was starting to get used to

calling myself a working woman. It felt strange but nice. I learned to expect and ignore the way most

people treated me. They put at least two feet of space between them and me, and one person I

passed in the hall even pushed himself against the wall even though I wasn't close to him. I just

wanted to scream ‘get over it!’ and get on with my life. Today, I even expected Jacob to be nowhere

in sight at lunch.

He surprised me, though. He came in about five minutes after I did, and he sat down at the table

like he had done on Tuesday and Wednesday. I tried not to glare at him, but I wasn’t going to accept

his sometimes-friendship. I’d had enough of them in high school to know that they always ended up

stabbing me in the back. I wasn’t going to allow Jacob to do it.

“How are you?” he asked.

I just looked down into my soup as I stirred it, pretending like I wasn’t happy to hear his voice. He

waited a few minutes before he tried again.

“You okay, Nessie?” he asked, leaning forward on the table a little.

I raised my eyebrows to myself and took a deep breath. I nodded and peeked up at him again. I

found myself speaking again before I could stop it.

“You weren’t here yesterday.” It sounded like a cross between a question and an accusation. I

furrowed my brow again; I didn’t want him to know that it upset me.

He shook his head and sat back in his chair. “No, I don’t work here on Mondays or Thursdays.”

And with that, I felt like a jerk. I took another deep breath and tried to smile up at him. “Oh.” It was

all I could really think of to say.

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” he asked.

I just shrugged. “It was okay.” Now that I knew he hadn’t ditched me, things seemed a little brighter.

“How are you?”

He smiled. “Good.”

I felt awkward for a moment as I ate my soup and he ate his sandwich. I didn’t know what to say

now that I knew I could talk to him, but I felt like I wanted to say something. I wanted to interact and

have a friendship with him. As much as he would allow, anyway. If it was just a few words

exchanged at lunch on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I would find a way to be happy with that.

23

“So what did you do yesterday?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t intruding on his personal life.

He leaned forward and shrugged. “Not much. I have another job working construction, and I did that

most of the day.”

I nodded, realizing where Jacob got all of his muscles. He definitely looked more like a construction

worker than an office person.

I realized then that my lunch was over. “Um, I guess I’ll see you . . . Tuesday?” It made me sad that I

wouldn’t see him for three days.

He smiled the smile I liked and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

I couldn’t help but smile back as I waved. I threw my cup away on my way out the door.

24

Chapter four

Pins

Numb us up to shield the pins

Renew our faith which way we can

To fall in love with life again.

Just when all seems fine and I'm pain free,

You jab another pin in me.

-- Fixxxer – Metallica

Renesmee

The weekend was proof that God hated me and wanted me to be miserable. I’d heard many people

talking about how excited they were for the weekend―for their break from life. In my life, work was

my break. Even if Jacob was one of the few people who didn’t treat me either like a fungus or a

chipped Ming vase, it got me out of the house and my mind off of my dad.

But on the weekends, there was no work. There was only me in the house with my thoughts and

memories. I’d pushed so much back so I could function somewhat normally during the week, and it

all seemed to resurface on Saturday.

Saturday morning, I woke up from a night of peaceful sleep. It wasn’t abnormal; sometimes I’d go

weeks without any dreams at all before the bad ones would creep up again. It would be either the

dead version of me or the hospital where my dad was and his empty eyes. What had me confused

was that I did dream. It was a good dream, though, and I wasn’t accustomed to them. It was Jacob

and I on my couch, talking. It felt so normal and peaceful that a part of me wanted to go back to

sleep to have it again.

I didn’t delude myself into thinking I was getting better just because I’d had a good dream, but I did

wonder if I had somehow broken some kind of rule.

I tried to pass the time by reading, but I was already tired of the book I’d gotten from the library. I’d

read every book on my bookshelf three or four times. I didn’t want to go outside or walk to the library

to get a different book. I knew there were more books in my dad’s room, and before I could squish

the thought, I found myself remembering his bookcase. He liked all kinds of books; fiction, comedy,

science, and even the occasional drama. I remembered how he would sit on the chair at the end of

his bed every night and read a chapter of whatever book had his attention at the time. If I went in

there with him, I could lie on my stomach on his bed and he’d read it aloud to me.

My stomach cramped with the pain from the memory and tears filled my eyes. I tried taking a deep

breath, but it was useless. I managed to stumble to my bed and gripped the pillow to my chest. I

couldn’t breathe through the sobs. I managed to gasp in a few breaths and soaked the pillow with

my tears.

I cried myself to sleep again.

25

When I opened my eyes, I sighed. I knew immediately that I was dreaming. The proof was in the way

every possession my dad had ever owned was on the floor in pieces. I had, in the past, wondered if

it meant anything that I was partially conscious of what was happening when I had these dreams. I

still had no control over what happened, but I could think separately from myself. Did it mean

anything when I could dissect the feeling from these dreams and compare them to the feeling of the

good dream I’d had earlier?

In my dream, I was in the living room among the debris. I still held the baseball bat in my hands,

gripping it tightly after I smashed the TV. My heart started beating faster. I knew exactly what was

going to happen next.

I felt her presence behind me, but I couldn’t turn around. I sniffled and dropped the bat as I stared

at the shattered screen of the TV. Her bare feet crunched the broken glass on the floor as she

stepped around me, slowly coming into my view. I swallowed and looked at her, meeting her milky

white eyes. I shivered and waited for it.

“What have you done?” she asked in an eerily calm voice. It was dead, devoid of any emotion.

I raised my hands automatically, not in control of my actions here. “I didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head, ragged hair moving stiffly over her shoulders, and stepped closer to me. I told

myself to take a step backward, but I couldn’t. “You killed him, and you would so easily forget him,”

she said stonily.

I didn’t understand. She’d never said that before. How could I forget my own father?

She reached out and grabbed my arm with her lacerated one. I tried to pull away even though I knew

it wouldn’t do any good.

“Please,” I begged, tugging harder. Panic rose in my chest, and I started crying again.

She gripped my arm tighter and pulled it up to her. “I’ll make sure you always remember.” I

screamed and tried harder to pull away as she pulled out my dad’s pocket knife. She put the blade

to my wrist and smiled wickedly as she pushed it in and dragged it slowly over my skin. I felt the pain

as the knife broke through tendons, and I cried louder.

I was still screaming when I woke up. It took a few minutes to calm down enough to actually move.

When I did, I went out to the living room and curled up on the couch to wait out the rest of the day.

After a few hours, I was able to push all emotion aside and just be numb for a while. I didn’t want to

think about the changes to the dream or what they meant.

I survived work on Monday by reminding myself that I would see Jacob again on Tuesday. I had a

friend . . . sort of. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to call Jacob my friend, but I knew he at least

tolerated me.

I was anxious to see him on Tuesday. I paid little attention to the training and kept glancing at the

clock waiting for it to be lunch time. When lunch finally rolled around, I found myself eager to get

into the lunchroom. I felt a strange flutter in my chest that confused me for a second until I

recognized it. Anticipation. I hadn’t had anything to look forward to in years.

26

I realized as I dug in my bag that I’d left my soup at home. I grumbled a little, but didn’t let it get me

down too much. I got up and went into the break room empty handed and sat down at the table to

wait for Jacob.

Five minutes later, as usual, he came in and sat down by me.

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling.

I smiled, the flutter in my chest getting stronger. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. “I’m good.”

He seemed surprised, but hid it quickly. “Good.”

It was really all I expected of our conversation, so I stayed silent and let him eat. I fidgeted with my

fingers, not sure what to do. The blonde-haired, deranged housewife from my training class came in

the break room with a few of her groupies and got something from the fridge. She looked over at me

and I heard a hushed comment about my disheveled hair. I ignored the urge to run my fingers

through it and kept picking at my fingernails. I saw Jacob glance after them as they walked out, but

he didn’t say anything either. For a moment, I was afraid he’d leave, but he didn’t. He looked at me

for a second before turning back to his lunch.

Finally, I decided I needed a few more words. “How are you?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’m all right.” He sounded upset about something, but I didn’t pry. I stayed silent as I

made myself be happy with being able to sit by him and wished my lunch could last longer than a

half an hour.

“Did you do anything fun this weekend?” he asked.

I looked up at him, a little surprised. I shook my head after a moment. “No, not really. I just read

and stayed inside.” I left out the parts where I cried myself to sleep and woke up screaming. “What

about you?”

“Nothing fun, no. I have no idea what I’m going to do with all my time when I quit here.”

The room was suddenly way too small. I gasped a little, and he looked up at me. I swallowed and

composed myself.

“You’re quitting?” I asked hesitantly. He couldn’t quit; he was all I had to look forward to.

He nodded. “Yeah, I don’t really need the job anymore. Friday’s my last day.”

27

My throat closed, and I nearly started crying. I swallowed again and furrowed my eyebrows as I

pushed my feelings down. I wouldn’t cry here, especially not in front of Jacob. I cleared my throat

and nodded. I wouldn’t think about the fact that I would only spend two more lunches with him

before I would never see him again.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning forward over the table and resting on his elbows.

I nodded and swallowed again, making sure I wasn’t going to cry. “Yeah.” My voice was thick.

“What’s wrong?” He obviously saw right through me.

I shrugged. “It’s nothing.” I took a deep breath and looked up at him. His eyes were comforting, and

I felt my lip tremble as I looked at him. “I’ll miss you.” I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. I

looked back down at the table and stared at my fingers.

“I’d miss you too. There aren’t many people here I could say that about.” He sounded like he was

trying comfort me, and I almost looked back up at him. I reminded myself that I wouldn’t cry here.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked. That time I did look up.

“Um . . . I don’t really . . . Nothing.”

He smiled. “Me neither. Would you want to do something? With me?”

My eyes widened, and I wasn’t sure what to say for a minute. I think part of me was in shock that he

wanted to see me outside of work.

“Just as friends, of course,” he added hastily.

I had figured that he was just asking as a friend, and I almost snorted at the prospect of him asking

me out on a date. Instead, I just nodded.

“Sure, yeah . . . that would be great.” Suddenly the flutters in my chest tripled, and it was difficult to

breathe.

He smiled widely. “Good. We could go see a movie if you want. Or we can just hang out; whatever

you want.”

I smiled back. “Anything is fine with me.” I could hardly believe my luck; Jacob Black wanted to see

me outside of work. Then I remembered one very important thing. “We could be somewhere without

a lot of sunlight, right?” I asked hesitantly. Neither of us had talked a lot, and I had no idea if he

knew about my condition. He’d had to have heard the rumors flying around, but hearing rumors and

hearing the truth was rarely the same thing.

28

Understanding lit his eyes, and I knew that he knew. “Yes, we can.”

I was relieved that he knew and still wanted to see me. “Good.”

I realized that my lunch was over, and I had to go back into the training room. I didn’t want to go

back in there. I wanted to stay in the break room with Jacob. He took a breath and leaned back in

his chair. I stole a few more seconds to look at him before I forced myself to get up.

“My lunch is over,” I explained, twisting my fingers together in front of me.

He nodded and stood up next to me. I had to look up to meet his eyes again, and I realized that I’d

never noticed how tall he was. I held my fingers tightly when they wanted to reach out and touch

him. Most people didn’t like to touch me once they found out about my skin, and I didn’t think I

could bear it if he recoiled from me.

“You get off at five, right?” he asked, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I stared at my hands,

concentrating on the light weight of his hand on me. I nodded and took a deep breath to calm myself

down. It was just a simple touch, and I knew without a doubt it meant nothing to him.

“Do you want to meet me back here?”

I looked up at him and smiled as best as I could. “Sure.” His thumb moved over my clavicle a few

times before he drew his hand back. The spot was instantly cold, and I wanted him to touch me

again.

“Okay. See you at five.” He smiled again as we left the room. He went to his desk, and I went back

to the training room. The training class had already started back up, and some of the people were

staring at me as I walked back to my seat. I ignored them. I thought about Jake and what we would

do after work. I was suddenly nervous; I didn’t know how to be someone’s friend. What if I was

really bad at it? I hadn’t had many friends in school, and those that I did have weren’t the kind to do

things with me after school.

A sudden and unwelcome memory of running home after an embarrassing day at school and

slamming the door hit me hard. I sucked in a deep breath as I remembered, involuntarily, the way

my dad had come in the living room to find me sobbing on the couch. He’d scooped me up and held

me as I cried, knowing without needing explanation that it was trouble with the other students that

had caused it.

I pushed the memory away as quickly as I could, but it was too late. My chest constricted painfully

and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop it. Instead of trying, I got up and hastily excused myself

to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty. I locked the door before I ran into the large

handicap stall and locked it as well. I sat down on the floor next to the toilet pulled my knees up to

my chest.

29

I pushed my face into my knees and sobbed hard as the memories of my father washed over me. I

remembered the way he would comfort me when I was hurt by bullies at school and how he would

promise it would get better eventually. As hard as I tried to push the memories away, they refused to

leave me. I had my arms wrapped around my knees, and I clutched at the fabric of my pants so

tightly my fingers hurt.

I rocked back and forth as I cried, and eventually slumped over until I was lying down on the cool tile

floor. The cold against my face was soothing, and I sniffled as I turned my head to give my skin more

contact with the floor. I finally started calming down, replacing the hurt with numb. Bit by bit, I was

able to breathe again. I took a deep breath and sighed, coughing a little. I just lay there for a few

more minutes, my body recuperating from the outburst.

Finally, I knew it was time to get up. I stood up carefully on shaky legs and went to the faucet to

wash my face. I didn’t look in the mirror; I knew what I’d look like. Instead, I splashed water on my

face and tried to smooth my hair down. I took a few deep, semi-calming breaths as I stared into the

sink and watched the water slip down the drain. I sighed and turned off the faucet. I told myself I

was ready to face my fate.

I walked back to the training room and paid strict attention to the lecture. I even took extra notes to

keep my thoughts from wandering again.

At five o’clock, I got my things together and thought about just going home, but the idea of seeing

Jacob again today was too appealing to pass up. I went into the break room like we’d agreed on and

waited for him. I stared at the table intently, memorizing and rememorizing the lines of the fake

wood. I burned the lines into my brain; I needed to concentrate on being numb and not

remembering. I didn’t want to fall apart again today.

Five minutes later, Jacob came in the room and got a few things out of the fridge. There was

something a little different about him, but I couldn’t tell what it was. He seemed off somehow. Hs

back and shoulders were stiff and every movement he made seemed hurried and angry. It wasn’t

enough to scare me, but enough to notice he wasn’t quite the easygoing person I knew. He smiled at

me, but there was something forced about it that I couldn’t understand. I tried to smile back, but the

numbness I’d forced on myself probably made it look horrible.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sitting down beside me at the table. His voice and eyes were harder, too.

It was like I was staring at two people just then, one who was angry with the world and wanted to

destroy, and one who was soft and friendly like the Jacob I was used to.

I nodded, but his eyes said he saw through me again. “I’ll be okay.”

He nodded and his brow furrowed a little. Another coworker came in the room and Jacob looked up

at him. The guy was tall—compared to me, anyway—with sand-colored hair and a goatee. I

recognized him as one of the guys who sat on the aisle behind Jacob; the aisle I would be sitting on

the next week when I started on the phones. He looked at me for a minute, and I saw Jacob’s arm

flex out of the corner of my eye. My eyes automatically flickered to his hand on the table. I was little

30

surprised to see it clenched in a tight fist. I looked up at Jacob and furrowed my eyebrows. He was

glaring at the sandy-haired man with a hatred I couldn’t remember seeing on anyone ever.

No words were said. The man left the room silently, and Jacob stared after him. His eyes lingered on

the doorway for a moment before he looked down at the table with the same malevolent glare. I

waited a few minutes, expecting him to calm down and speak to me again. I assumed there was

something between them, some kind of animosity that caused Jake to act like that.

I finally reached out my hand tentatively, expecting rebuttal, and touched his fist with my fingertips.

Even in the face of his anger, I found myself admiring him. His fist was clenched tightly, all the

muscles in his forearm straining. I touched him lightly, but I was still morbidly impressed with how

hard his hand was. He took a deep breath and his hand relaxed marginally. He opened his fist and

grabbed my fingers, holding them tightly. I was surprised at how warm his hand was; it almost felt

like he had a low-grade fever. I hoped he wasn’t getting sick. Partly because I could allow myself to

care enough if he was sick, and partly because I was selfish. I wanted to spend time with him, and I

couldn’t do that if he was sick.

A few people came and went, but nobody seemed to notice or care about Jacob and I at the table.

After a few minutes, he finally looked up at me and took another deep breath. His eyes were much

darker than usual. I still saw the two sides of him, but it seemed the angry side was gradually

settling down. He moved his thumb over my hand and smiled at me. It was tight and forced, but it

was a smile.

I smiled back as best as I could and squeezed his fingers. With as tight as his fingers were holding

mine, I wondered if he even felt it.

It was another few seconds before either of us spoke. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to get us on

the subject of what was going to happen tonight. If he was sick, he should go home and rest. I

hoped, selfishly again, that he wasn’t sick.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. Somewhere deep inside me, a butterfly fluttered from the sound of his

voice. It was low and thick and . . . sexy. He cleared his throat and loosened his grip on my fingers,

but kept running his thumb over my knuckles. “Did I hurt your hand?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

He looked at me for a second, searching my eyes for something. Whatever he found made him sad; I

could see it in the way his eyes simmered. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said softly.

That time my smile was a little easier. “You didn’t scare me. I’m okay.”

He nodded and leaned forward on the table. My hand moved with his and I had to lean forward as

well.