Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and character names. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
In Too Deep
True remorse is never just a regret over consequence; it is a regret over motive. ~Mignon McLaughlin
It's a strange feeling to be stripped of all the things that you love, the things that you find comfort and solace in. Stripped bare of all the things that make you who you are. One would think that it would be somewhat freeing, having that sudden loss of burden lightening your shoulders.
I can wholeheartedly confirm that it is not.
I stand on the side of the street shifting my weight as I remain impatiently for my ride. I move near the trees, deliberately out of view of my house…my father's house. I am no longer welcome there. My tongue darts out against my lower lip, tasting blood and sweat. No tears.
Both my eye and cheek burn and throb, inflamed and bloody.
Now standing here all but hiding, I wait in panic and fear… and nothing could be farther from the idea that I have achieved freedom from my burdens. I feel trapped, suffocated and so very alone. I am fearful of the uncertain. I am afraid of the unexpected independence I have brought upon myself by my actions. I am so scared to be alone.
How will I manage? How will I survive? What the fuck am I gonna do now?
The bags I carry weigh heavy on my shoulders, the straps digging into the skin on my back still raw from his lashes. Lashes that I deserved, I suppose.
I'd known it was coming; it was just a matter of when and how he would find out. One of the straps on the heaviest bag falls to my elbow. I hitch it back up and crane my neck anxiously to see if my ride is nearing.
These bags are so fuckin' heavy. All that I am, all that I was and all that I aspire to be are contained in the confines of the large duffels that I have packed so hastily upon my father's demand that I get the fuck out of his house. Inside is everything that defines me.
But I know better. It is not a person's worldly possessions, but his actions that define him as a man. I have acted out revenge, out of hatred. Today, I am not a man. I am nothing but the piece of garbage my father has labeled me, unworthy of his home, his money, his love. Not that he ever really loved me or gave a fuck.
He's right, though.
I have…I am...nothing.
She's gone. I've lost her and it is no body's fault but my own.
I have made mistakes, I'll be the first to admit it. Too many to count, too many to repair. Mistakes that could have been prevented, that should have never happened. But they did. And I will pay dearly for what I've done.
I am in so fuckin' deep that I can not claw my way out. There is no light at the top of the well, no silver lining to be seen. I have sinned against my father in thought, word and deed.
And he has punished me.
I will pay for those sins today and for always.
I'm so sorry.
Please forgive me.