Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

Why does Ian think I have to kiss you?

The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.

I'm really glad Edward didn't kill you. Everything's so much more fun with you around." — Emmett Cullen

He was right – she was beating herself up about hurting his feelings. The girl was a classic martyr. She’d totally been born in the wrong century. She should have lived back when she could have gotten herself fed to some lions for a good cause.

They wouldn't let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore.

Maybe you'll get lucky." I said bleakly, lurching on my feet. "Maybe I'll get hit by a truck on my way back.