Twilight: But it's a Thriller and I Never Read Twilight

Jacob didn't come back to the Cullens' house again, and on some level, I should have known that was how it was going to end between us. My friendship with Jacob was over when I got married, but I would always miss him a little bit. Somewhere on the Quileute reservation, maybe in that barn fixing up old cars, Jacob was missing me too.

August passed in a daze. I rarely had the strength to walk, and when I did, it was shaky and slow. I didn't leave the house at all but remained under the close eyes of the Cullens who were all just waiting to see what would happen to me when the child grew too big to remain inside.

At times, I would dream of it popping out of me, breaking the skin of my belly open and climbing out through the blood and gunk like the creature from "The Thing". I'd wake in the dark, in a cold sweat as I hyperventilated from the feeling of my body breaking apart. It still felt like there was blood on my fingers as I waited there, curled upon myself in the dark. That feeling never really went away. It always felt like I was in the process of dying.

One night, just like any other, I woke to that same feeling and reached under my blankets to my belly just to make sure it was still there. The skin felt intact as I dragged myself into a sitting position and felt over the bump. The child kicked hard enough to rock me a little as I tried to steady myself. The ache of my head burnt through the last of my resolve. I whimpered a soft, tearless cry as I curled in, unable to pull my knees up to my stomach.

As much as the Cullens tried to protect me, as much as Edward said everything was going to be just fine, I knew I was going to die. I couldn't be sure how long the pregnancy would last, but Carlisle had put me at thirty weeks during our most recent checkup. In a regular world, that would have meant I had eight more weeks before my due date, but with this thing, I couldn't be sure I'd live through my nineteenth birthday.

I sat in the dark of my room, listening to the quiet stillness of the glass palace and crying at my march toward demise. This house didn't creak or groan like Charlie's. While that house had breathed at times with the wind or creaked at a heavy footfall, this one was as still as death. There was no life to this house at all. And it almost seemed a fitting place to die. The quiet sounds of my crying were the only thing to be heard at all.

Somewhere in this house, Edward was awake and wandering. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. For so long, I felt like I knew him, like being in his presence was another form of relaxation, but all that was gone. I couldn't even be sure I could trust my own memories of him anymore. Our love felt cold and dead now, like the moment we learned I was pregnant, he had become another being entirely. He was concerned only with the child, with keeping me alive and keeping the fetus growing. It didn't even matter that it still didn't have a heart.

After a long moment of sitting, waiting, and wishing for this house to breathe some life into me, all I felt was hungry. The pang hit me hard before I even understood what I was feeling. Something deep in my gut squirmed and at once, I thought it was just the fetus, but it grumbled loud enough for me to hear it. My mouth went dry as the hunger grew, draining on me more.

The clock on my vanity said 3:24 AM. I blinked and looked to the door across the room, which was still closed tight for the evening. Somewhere, Edward was wandering out there. If any of this was normal, I would be able to talk to him about all of this late into the morning hours, but now the idea of calling him to my aid made me nauseous.

I held onto the hunger that was dragging me forward and pulled myself numbly toward my feet. With what little strength I had, I balanced myself on my narrow, bone thin feet and braced myself against the vanity to propel myself upwards. Pain ruptured through my legs, begging me to drop to the ground, but I held steady, biting my lip against the pain.