1 Life in Forks for William

Opening my eyes, everything seemed to be grey and dark and dull.

Everything was just dull. I could scarcely find the energy to sit up and put my head in my hands to wipe away the dried tears and bits of sleep in my eyes.

Whipping my legs out of bed lazily, I half-heartedly pushed myself up, not minding if I fell backward into bed where I truly wanted to be.

Sadly for me, I was able to get up and I walked toward my wardrobe.

Looking to a small box at the bottom of the built-in wardrobe, I turned my gaze away from it just as quickly as I saw it. The more I looked at it, the harder my chest hurt.

Grabbing a plain white t-shirt, some jeans and a winter jacket, I got out of my own head and turned back to my bed before getting my pajamas off. Though, catching my own reflection in the corner of my eye, I stopped and turned to the body-length mirror in my room. Or rather, my new room.

Naturally pale skin that had only gotten more pale after moving to Forks, bright green eyes that despite my current mood, still looked intuitive and engaging and messy auburn hair that was more red than brown but nothing like some anime character - it was simply auburn colored. But the more time I spent in Forks, the darker it got. I guess that'd be the lack of sun in this small town.

I was about 6'3" and 200-ish pounds, with broad shoulders and a very well-muscled figure. Courtesy of playing football for most of my highschool life, I guess.

Bringing a hand up to my face, I traced the slightly dark bags under my eyes. Sighing, I knew I had to get more sleep but with the nightmares I was beginning to have recently...I knew that was nothing but wishful thinking.

Turning back to my bed, I began to get dressed again.

Just pulling a shirt over my head or pulling my jeans up...was annoying and time-consuming to me. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything, honestly. I just wanted to lie down and...well, go into nothingness. Not die, no, I just wanted to not think. To not feel what I was currently feeling. My usual answer would be sleep but that evades me and even when it doesn't, well, I did mention the nightmares, right?

Shaking my head, I put on some socks before shuffling on some worn-out trainers and carrying my coat with me as I left my room.

Grimacing as I entered the light-filled bathroom, I once again saw my face but this time with some actual light to show off it's 'glory'.

I was obviously being sarcastic.

My face looked apathetic yet also full of sadness. It was annoying to look at as it was a constant reminder. It's unblemished skin. It's uninjured state. It was all a reminder that I was a survivor...a survivor who didn't want to survive the ordeal he did.

Closing my eyes so I didn't have to look at my face or the piercing eyes that stared back, I used memory to turn on the tap, letting water into the sink. Cupping my hands under the spray of water, I splashed it across my face letting the cold water both wake me up and put an ease to my taut mind.

It barely did anything for the latter but it did enough for the former that I was able to suppress my own thoughts. Splashing my face a few more times, I turned the tap off before reaching around for a towel.

Once I'd finally got a hand on one, I dried my face off before opening my eyes and looking for my toothbrush.

Just like that, I went through the same process I'd gone through every morning since the accident.

I scoffed at the word 'accident' I'd used. Dropping a bottle of milk and it smashing, was an accident. Bumping into someone when you weren't looking, was an accident.

That...'that' was called an accident. But it wasn't. It could never be.

. . .

"Mornin' Will," my uncle, Charlie Swan, spoke to the side of me when I came down the stairs, his stoic voice coming from behind the newspaper he was holding.

Charlie was a decently tall man, with dark brown hair cut short and an accompanying mustache that kept his top lip warm.

Looking back to him, I forced a smile, "Good morning, Charlie," I said with, again, forced gusto before I carried on, "I'm going to visit Jessica, so I'll see you later. I'll probably get something to eat while I'm out," I said, lying about seeing him later. Today was a Saturday, so I was planning to stay the whole night if I could.

"Ah, alright," he said before putting the paper down and picking up his coat, "Well, I'll give you a lift if you want? I'm about to head up to the station anyway," he offered but I felt my heart clench in dread.

"N-no, I'll be fine with walking," I got out, trying to hide my stutter with a cough toward the end.

Without waiting for him to reply, I was already on my way.

The thought of stepping into another car...it sent shivers up my spine and caused me to feel...weak. Caught off guard. How I imagine Superman feels when confronted with Kryptonite.

Getting out of the house, I picked up into a jog, feeling like I needed something to distract me.

Thankfully, it did, and before long, I found myself at the hospital. The effectiveness of my mindless jogging surprising even myself as I realized I'd made the journey both quickly and without dwelling on anything that would dampen my mood even further. If that were possible.

Getting on with it, I walked toward the entrance of the small hospital that I was becoming ever more familiar with.

A feeling I hated to feel. Familiarity with a hospital, that is.

As soon as I walked through the automatic doors, I walked up to the reception, signed in my name, said hello to the lady behind the counter who looked half-asleep, and I got on my way to ICU or the Intensive Care Unit where my sister has been for the last few weeks.

I walked through the halls like a zombie, dragging my feet across the ground, reluctantly getting to my destination. It was a slow shuffle, both on purpose and also an unconscious tug from my own body. The closer I got to the room, the more uncomfortable I got. The more tight my chest felt. This is how it always was when I visited my sister.

Despite the slowness of my steps...it wasn't slow enough. I'd barely prepared myself when I found that I'd arrived at the door to where my sister was.

Entering, I saw the ICU for Forks Hospital. Sectioned off beds that were mostly empty other than a few people sleeping with nurse's closely monitoring them. Some of them had oxygen pumps attached to them, helping them breath, others were just lying there but if memory serves me right, they had cardiac problems if the defibrillator station next to them was anything to go by.

Walking to the very end of the ICU, I turned and saw my sister. Attached to so many machines it was like she was some kind of cyborg...Jesus Christ, Will, just shut up...

I walked into her section and pulled the curtain for some privacy before sitting down on a chair next to her.

I didn't do anything. I just sat there. Looking at her, I guess.

You see, my sister got all the brains and I got all the brawn. She was going to be the next big doctor and I was gonna do college football and fail to get into the big leagues. Basically, she could've done something with her life.

Which is why seeing her like this hurts. It claws at my fucking mind like a rabid feline, ripping at my head.

Unlike me, she had chocolate brown hair, like our mother. If her eyes were open, I'd be able to see similar green eyes to mine looking back at me. But a lot more intelligent and probably more sarcastic as well.

Her pretty face was...marred. Sort of. I didn't mind it nor did it lower my sister in my mind. But it'd definitely something she would feel.

The...incident didn't kill her but the stray pieces of metal and glass, mixed with the concussive force of the car crashing...it scarred most of her body. Right now, her face is covered in bandages, her two legs covered in casts along with her left arm. She was barely breathing it the small wheezing I could hear was anything to go by.

You ever look at an injured animal or person? That weird feeling you get when you look at their fragility, like you think they're going to break or something. Even worse that you feel like you don't want to get near them because you're scared of hurting them yourself.

I guess you could say that seeing her this injuried made me uneasy alongside a dozen other things.

At some point during this, I'd began crying again, "Fucking hell..." I swore to myself, leaning over to the bedside table next to her, picking out a few tissues from the box I'd placed there last week. It was nearly empty.

Wiping at my eyes, I found myself spiralling in emotion. Everything I did and thought about just kept reminding me of the incident. Flashes of it just kept appearing in my head and the tears wouldn't stop.

Nor would the guilt.

The images were put to a stop when I heard the curtain behind me being pulled to the side. One look back after wiping my eyes one last time showed me who it was and I quickly stood up, "Dr. Cullen, is there any news about Jess...?" I asked hopefully, but I knew I was just asking to be hurt by the truth.

Proving this thought, Dr Cullen just shook his head and I felt myself deflate as he spoke, "I'm sorry, William, but there's been no changes to her comatose state," he gave an apologetic smile and I just gave a nod and a very forced smile before collapsing into my chair again, all my energy gone. "But," he continued, obviously trying to bring my mood back up, "Her bones are healing just fine and so is the swelling to her brain. Hopefully, once her body heals, the prospects will look better. So, don't keep yourself down, William. Please. I know that this must be hard time but keep your hopes high," he smiled as he walked around to the side of the bed, checking the machines.

It gave me a chance to take in this guy's appearance.

Now, don't get me wrong - I like women. But this doctor, well, he was handsome as hell. Inhumanly so, is how I'd put it. He barely looked over 23-years-old as well, despite being told my Charlie that this guy had a wife and a family of adoptive kids. He looked way too youthful to be a family man, is what I'm getting at.

He was tall, maybe an inch shy of my height, with collar-length blond hair. He also had oddly colored topaz eyes.

I didn't even think that kind of eye color was possible but it didn't look like he was wearing contacts, so I guess it must be some kind of genetic mutation? I don't know.

He was also extremely pale. Like the type of pale that you'd only see in a bloodless corpse.

I'd ask him about it if it wasn't an extremely rude question to ask a doctor who's keeping my sister alive. 'Hey, why are you so goddamn pale? Like, seriously, Doc, you look like a corpse' is how it'd sound no matter how I worded it.

But what confused me the most was how...guarded I felt around him. Just being near him made me tense up like I was next to a dangerous animal. Like sitting next to a prowling Lion or a Grizzly Bear that was walking towards you. It was odd and my nerves were always taut as hell when Dr. Cullen was around.

Which made me annoyed with myself - he's looking after your sister and you compare him to deadly animals? I don't know why I was being so weird about it all.

I don't know a lot of things anymore, to be honest though.

But just being near him...I felt like some kind of countdown clock had started in my body and when the clock hit zero...

Something bad was going to happen.