It had been a week since my tandem jump.
I’d wanted badly to go again. The rush, the momentary freedom—it was the only time I’d felt something that wasn’t pain or numbness. But by the time they handed out certificates and packed up, it was too late. I had to go home.
I hadn’t been back since.
Renee had doubled down, dragging me to the shrink again and again. I still hadn’t said anything. Dr. Rayburn would sit there in her carefully curated office, trying to coax me into talking. I’d just sit there, staring through her, my arms folded tightly like armor.
She kept trying. Kept hoping, I guess. Renee was desperate now, driving me to every appointment, cooking dinners I couldn’t taste, hovering like I was seconds away from disintegrating. She was probably right.
School passed in a blur. I didn’t remember much except that I was still breathing. Nights were worse. The nightmares kept coming, louder and sharper than before. I screamed myself awake almost every night now. Renee had started crying after the last one. I heard her outside my door.
It was Thursday. The only thing that felt remotely real was the thought of jumping again. I marked the calendar in my head: Saturday.
But first—another visit to the shrink.
Dinner was already on the table when I got home. Renee had cooked again. The smell hit me before I reached the kitchen—something rich, heavy. Lasagna, I thought. Or maybe something else. The scent made my stomach turn.
I sat down without a word. She joined me after a moment.
“Phil will be home next week,” she said, her voice careful. “Spring training’s starting soon.”
I nodded. I picked at the food, chewing cardboard. It was tasteless. It didn’t matter.
Afterward, I did the dishes, and we drove to the appointment in silence.
Dr. Rayburn’s office hadn’t changed. It was still too warm, too beige. I sank into the couch like I always did and waited.
She entered a moment later, clipboard in hand.
“Good evening, Bella. How are you today?”
“The same.”
Her smile didn’t even falter. “Why don’t you tell me about the nightmares?”
I stiffened. I felt cold.
“Did my mom tell you that?”
“She’s worried about you.”
“That’s not your business.”
“Bella, I can’t help you unless you let me in.”
I stared at her, then sighed.
“I have this nightmare. It’s recurring. It… hurts.”
“What happens in it?”
I looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s bad enough that I live through it when I’m asleep. I’m not dragging it into the daylight.”
“I think you’d be surprised how much talking helps.”
“Yeah, I doubt it. I’m fine. I’m not sad or broken or anything.”
“That’s not true, Bella. You’re not fine. You’re not even close. You wake up screaming.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated, sharper now. “Stop wasting our time.”
I stood up and left before she could say anything else.
The jump school wasn’t far, and I needed to breathe. I needed space—real, physical space—and the sky was the only thing big enough.
The walk helped. By the time I got there, the place was still open, and they let me gear up. This time, no tandem. I was going solo.
Adrenaline buzzed beneath my skin as they strapped on the chute and ran through the final checks. The plane rumbled down the runway and lifted, slicing upward into the deepening sky.
At 13,000 feet, the instructor leaned over.
“You’ll jump first. I’ll be right behind you. If I signal, you pull your chute. If something’s wrong, I’ll help.”
I nodded, barely hearing him. My blood was racing, my body already craving the fall.
The door opened.
The wind hit me in the face, and then—
Bella, what are you doing?
I froze. His voice was there. Not just in my head—here. I felt it in my bones.
Don’t do this. Get back in your seat.
I stepped back, stunned. The instructor’s face blurred behind the rush in my ears. I stood there, suspended, caught between the wind and Edward’s voice.
Good, he said, relieved.
Then silence.
And with it, the numbness started slipping again.
I needed to jump.
I walked back to the door. The instructor gave me a thumbs-up.
Bella, Edward growled, low and dark.
Remember your promise.
“Exactly,” I whispered.
Isabella Swan, don’t—
“Get ready to jump!” the instructor shouted.
I heard two different things all at once:
The instructor yell,
Edward’s voice scream “NO!”,
And then—I jumped.
The free fall hit like a drug. The wind screamed around me and I laughed, screaming into the sky. The instructor dropped beside me, grinning.
“This is amazing!” I shouted.
He nodded, motioning for me to deploy.
I pulled the cord.
The pilot chute deployed—but something was wrong. The lines caught. The canopy twisted. Half of it stayed tangled on the left side.
I yanked the left steering line. Instantly, I started spinning—violently. My body twisted, flung in sickening spirals. I tugged the right line to stabilize, but it only reversed the spin.
Panic flooded me.
Where was the instructor?
I saw him above me, his chute open, his face stricken.
Bella, no! Edward’s voice cut through again—desperate, horrified.
I looked down. The ground was rushing up.
Cut away.
My fingers found the cord and yanked.
There was a brutal jolt, then silence.
My reserve chute deployed.
But I was too low. Too fast. No time to slow.
I tugged the cords, desperate for a soft spot. There wasn’t one.
I closed my eyes.
Impact.
White-hot pain exploded through my leg. I screamed. The reserve chute crumpled behind me as I lay in the dirt.
Told you not to jump, Edward said, his voice curling through my mind like smoke.
I smiled.
It had been worth it, just to hear him again.
The instructor reached me seconds later, his face pale. “You broke your leg,” he said, panting. “I’ve been skydiving for 25 years. I’ve never seen that kind of malfunction before.”
I laughed.
“I have got to do that again.”
He looked at me like I was insane and pulled out his phone.
The adrenaline faded in the hospital. What scared me more was that the numbness didn’t come back.
Everything was clear now—painfully clear. Sounds were sharp, lights too bright. And beneath all of it was the ache.
The hole in my chest pulsed like it had just been torn open again.
Renee burst into the room, frantic. “Bella! Oh my god! Are you okay?”
I nodded, then flinched at the look that replaced her worry: fury.
“Skydiving?! Are you insane? You could have died! How could you be so reckless, so…so stupid?!”
“It’s just a broken leg, Mom.”
“You need help. I’m calling Dr. Rayburn. I can’t— I won’t watch you destroy yourself!”
She stormed out.
I lay back in the bed. Her words echoed: reckless, stupid.
Edward’s words had been the same once.
That’s why I’d heard him. That’s what triggered it.
The realization hit cold and clear: maybe it was a delusion. But I didn’t care. If madness meant I got to keep him, I’d welcome it.
Later, Renee returned.
“Dr. Rayburn is coming. She has a new idea. I think it’ll work.”
“What is it? Shock therapy?” I asked, too tired to care.
“Hypnosis,” she said.
I laughed bitterly—but nodded. If it brought back the protection, I’d try anything.
Dr. Rayburn lit a candle and placed it in front of me.
“Watch the flame. Just the flame. Hear only my voice.”
I stared. The flickering orange glow filled my vision.
“Open your mind, Bella. Let it lead you.”
The world fell away.
I was standing in our meadow.
The sun glinted through the trees, and he was there, bare-chested and radiant. My chest ached as I ran to him, touching him, kissing him—
But he pushed me back gently.
“I don’t know how to be close to you,” he said softly. “I don’t know if I can.”
His crooked smile should have made my heart soar. But it didn’t. I felt nothing.
I looked down.
A hole.
A real, gaping wound in my chest.
He stepped away, then returned with something in his hands.
“I think this is yours,” he said.
It was a heart.
Crushed, bloodied, barely recognizable.
Mine.
Blood pooled in the meadow. His hands were stained with it.
And then—my screams.
I screamed and screamed.
1.7562 Billion Miles 