The drive home was a procession of silence, interrupted only by the hum of the Chevy's tires and Charlie's held breaths. My father drove with unusual rigidity, both hands gripped at ten and two, as if he feared the asphalt might come to life and attack us again. Every time we hit a pothole, no matter how small, Charlie let out a worried grunt and checked the rearview mirror with eyes heavy with an anxiety he rarely let show.
Beside me, Bella was a ghost. She was physically there, but her mind was miles away, likely rewinding every millisecond of the scene in the parking lot. I knew that look. It was her "bloodhound" expression; once a doubt got between her teeth, she wouldn't let go until she bled it dry. I knew she was analyzing Edward's speed, the position of his hands, and the miracle of her being unharmed.
I, however, was too broken to be her partner in the investigation. The headache was a physical weight, a mass of hot lead pressing against my eyeballs. But deep down, beneath the veil of nausea and exhaustion, I felt something else. Something that scared me more than the accident itself. That "wall" I projected, that fierce protective urge that materialized in the air... it had been like breaking a levee. I felt a residual electric current running down my spine—a sense that something inside me had been unleashed and that, no matter how hard I tried, I could never lock it back in the basement of my mind.
When the truck stopped in front of the house, Charlie jumped out before the engine even finished dying.
"Slowly, Mael. Don't move fast," he ordered, rounding the truck to open my door with a gentleness that bordered on the comical. He looked like a mother hen in a police uniform.
"Dad, I can walk," I whispered, though the mere idea of putting my feet on the ground made me want to lose my lunch.
"No way. Bella, help him from the other side." Charlie slung my arm over his shoulders, taking most of my weight. "We're getting you up to your room right now."
Bella snapped out of her trance and took my left arm. Between the two of them, they escorted me up the stairs like a glass relic about to shatter. Every step was a hammer blow to the base of my skull.
"Bella, help him lie down and make sure he takes his shoes off," Charlie instructed as we reached the landing. "I'm going downstairs for more blankets; I need to tuck him in so he doesn't get the chills. And I'll bring the water and the pills Carlisle gave us. Move, move!"
Bella guided me to my bed. The scent of my room—that mix of graphite, old paper, and the fixative from my drawings—welcomed me like a balm. She sat me on the edge of the mattress and began untying my laces with trembling hands.
"Mael? Are you okay?" she asked in a low voice, searching my eyes. Her gaze was still loaded with questions, that dangerous curiosity that always got her into trouble.
"I need... to rest, Bells," I replied, squeezing my eyes shut. "I need the world to stop spinning suddenly. Don't ask anything now. Please."
She nodded, understanding that my limit had been breached. She helped me lie back, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I let out a sigh of relief that was almost a moan.
A few minutes later, Charlie entered the room carrying a mountain of wool blankets that probably hadn't been used since the nineties. Behind him came the glass of water and the bottle of pills.
"Here you go," he said, dropping the blankets over my feet and handing me the medication. "Take these. Carlisle said they'd knock you out, and that's exactly what you need."
I swallowed the pill with difficulty, feeling the cool water slide down my irritated throat. Bella stayed a moment longer before Charlie gestured for her to go down and prepare a light dinner.
Charlie stood by my bed, hands in his pockets, looking at me with a mix of pride and a deep sadness that broke my heart.
"You did good, son," he said suddenly, his voice a bit raspy. "Protecting your sister like that... not everyone has those reflexes. Or that courage."
"She's family, Dad," I answered through the weight of my eyelids. "I'd do anything for you guys. Even if it means my head tries to self-detonate."
Charlie sketched a sad smile and patted my leg over the blankets. "Rest, champ. Don't let anything wake you up."
He moved through the room with a silent agility I didn't know he possessed. He closed the blinds, blocking out every trace of Forks' gray light, and turned off the bedside lamp. He paused at the door for a second, looking at me in the shadows, before closing it with an almost imperceptible "click."
I lay there in absolute darkness. The silence of the house began to be swallowed by the sound of the rain rhythmically drumming against the glass. I could hear the distant sounds of Bella moving plates in the kitchen and the murmur of the television Charlie had turned on to try and normalize the situation.
I waited for the pill to take effect. In the blackness of my room, images of the accident projected themselves again: the glint of Tyler's bumper, Bella's scream, and that strange, dense, powerful vibration that surged from my hands. It wasn't just a drawing I had created today; I had altered reality.
Gradually, the pain began to dissolve into a cottony cloud. Carlisle's pill was potent; I felt my limbs grow heavy and the hammering in my head turn into a distant echo. Before falling completely asleep, my last thought was of the Cullens. Alice, Esme, Jasper... and Edward.
Sleep finally claimed me, a deep, dark void where, at last, nothing was spinning.
The silence of the night in Forks had a thick, almost solid quality. I woke up at nine p.m., submerged in a darkness broken only by the greenish glow of the digital clock. The headache was no longer an unbearable hammering; it had transformed into a dull echo at the base of my neck. But what truly pulled me from sleep wasn't the pain, but a ravenous void in my stomach. My body was demanding fuel after the adrenaline surge in the parking lot.
I got up cautiously. The world gave a slight sway—a reminder of the concussion—but I managed to stay steady. I went down the stairs with one hand on the wall, moving like a ghost through the shadows. In the kitchen, I found the plate Bella had left in the oven for me. I ate with silent desperation. Energy began to flow back through my veins, clearing the mental fog. I washed the plate mechanically and raided my personal stash: four of the cookies I had baked on Saturday. The sugar was the final touch to calm the residual anxiety in my nerves.
I went back up and tucked myself under the heavy blankets. Just as I covered up, the door creaked open a few inches. Bella's silhouette was silhouetted against the hall light.
"Mael? Are you awake?"
"I already ate, Bells. Thanks for dinner," I replied, my voice sounding deeper in the stillness. "I'm going back to sleep. I'm fine."
She nodded, her shoulders slumping with relief. "Anything you need, just come get me, okay?"
"Yeah, rest," I told her. The door closed, and I was alone with my thoughts again.
Sleep, however, decided to play a trick on me. I closed my eyes, but my mind, freed from the pressure of pain, began to project images with disturbing clarity. I remembered Alice—the way she seemed to radiate her own light in Art class, her joy so contagious it pierced my armor. And then Jasper appeared. I visualized him at the back of History class, with that gaze that was a labyrinth of secrets and an intensity that took my breath away. I knew he was a good person; someone like Alice wouldn't love a soulless monster. But beyond that... he was insultingly sexy.
"Shut up, Mael. Stop thinking about that," I scolded myself. But the thought, once freed, transformed into a fantasy that took on a life of its own under my eyelids.
I imagined the school gym, empty, bathed in the golden light of sunset. Jasper was there, alone, playing basketball. He was shirtless, and sweat made his marble skin glisten, highlighting every fiber of his abs, every muscle in his arms tensing as he shot the ball. The scene shifted abruptly to the showers. Steam filled the space, creating a suffocating, private atmosphere. I was there, washing away the sweat, and suddenly Jasper appeared in front of me, just as God brought him into the world. Water ran down his chest, tracing the perfect lines of his torso, and I stood there, petrified, unable to look away from that sculptural perfection.
I felt a sudden heat rising in my gut. My hand, almost without permission, slid down my chest, grazing my skin until it reached my nipples, pinching them with a delicacy that made me let out a ragged breath. In my mind, it wasn't my hand anymore. It was his.
In the fantasy, I felt Jasper approach from behind. His presence was both freezing and burning. I felt his breath on my neck before his lips grazed my skin, kissing my neck with contained urgency. He smelled like a predator that had finally cornered its most prized prey. His lips played with my earlobe, licking and nipping, drawing groans from me that were lost in the steam of the imaginary shower.
From behind, I felt the pressure of his manhood, firm and massive, pressing against my backside, marking a territory I was more than willing to surrender. We fused into a long, deep kiss, a struggle of tongues that tasted of forbidden desire. But suddenly, the sweetness vanished. Jasper became rough, turning me around and shoving me against the cold tile wall, giving me a swat that, far from hurting, ignited a spark of electric excitement in my spine.
"Don't break him, my love," a voice like bells broke the scene.
Alice. She appeared through the steam, shedding her clothes with supernatural grace until she was completely naked. She approached me, holding my face with a strength that forced me to look into her hazel eyes, which glowed with premonitory light.
"So, you've been desiring my man..." she whispered with a mischievous smile before kissing me with a roughness that left me breathless.
Jasper watched from behind, his golden eyes darkened by desire. I kissed them both back, feeling my will dissolve. "If you want him, you have me too," Alice declared against my lips.
I blushed in the darkness of my real bed, but in the fantasy, my voice came out heavy with a lust I didn't recognize: "Two for the price of one..."
They both smiled—a predatory and beautiful smile. Jasper joined in, kissing us both in turns, his large, cold hands roaming my body while I took care of Alice's nipples, which seemed to beg for my attention. I felt Jasper's hand wrapping around me, moving with an expert rhythm that pushed me to the edge in seconds. The pleasure was a tidal wave, an explosion of colors that didn't exist in the real world.
I felt the grand explosion coming. My whole body melted, my back arched against the mattress, and I let out a muffled moan into the pillow as the climax shook me with a violence that left me drained.
I snapped my eyes open. My bedroom ceiling was still there, gray and silent. My heart was thumping in my ears like a war drum. I looked down and felt the dampness in my hand, the trace of my own seed cooling on my skin. I was confused, overwhelmed by the potency of a fantasy that had mixed my artistic admiration with a carnal desire I had never allowed myself to explore.
"What the hell was 그게 (that)?" I whispered, my voice cracked.
I cleaned myself up with a dirty shirt I found by the bed, feeling a mix of shame and a strange residual euphoria. My mind tried to process what had led me to that scenario: Was it the concussion? Was it the fact that Jasper and Alice had truly seen me today? Or was it that, after saving Bella, my internal barriers had simply crumbled?
I lay back down, looking toward the window where the rain continued to wash the world. Gradually, physical exhaustion reclaimed me, but before I drifted off, one thought crossed my mind: Saturday I was going to the Cullens' house, and after that dream, I had no idea how I'd be able to look Jasper or Alice in the eye without blushing completely.
Finally, sleep dragged me under—this time into an imageless darkness, letting me rest at last.