I was a zombie. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Even Edward. I knew he felt horribly, but he gave me my space. I was curled up in the rear of the plane, listening to some angry instrumental music. I was trying not to cry, but failing miserably. This whole thing was a fucking nightmare. I was scared, terrified that anyone in my family was going to be hurt. My brother was broken because Rose was being a bitch.
She’d blocked both of our numbers, sending a harsh email.
Any residual sisterly love I had for her dissipated when I got that email.
Bella and Emmett,
I know you’re both going through a tough time, but so am I. I’m okay, but I don’t need a million texts from either of you asking me for proof. I hate to be a bitch, but I’m going to be. Your numbers will be blocked and I will not respond anymore to any texts or emails (as this email address will be deleted, as well). I think a clean break is needed.
If I saw her again, she’d get a swift kick in the ass. Bitch was an understatement of the century.
I was crying for the danger we were in, for the loss of Rosalie’s friendship and just the ardent fear I had. It was making me sick. I couldn’t stop throwing up.
“Hey, Bella,” Alice said. She sat down across from me and handed me some tea. “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to settle your stomach. Edward said you were sick, had an upset stomach.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking the tea and inhaling deeply. The scent was calming.
“Emmett told me about Rose’s email. What a bitch and a half,” Alice said, chuckling quietly.
“Yep,” I replied. I sipped my tea. “Alice, I know what you’re trying to do, but I really don’t want to talk. My throat hurts from being sick this morning and I have to sing tonight. Plus, I just want to be alone.” She pouted. “Don’t pout. I’m fucking terrified and I have to figure out how to hide that.”
“Okay, Bella,” she murmured. “If you want to talk.”
“Thanks,” I said, leaning against the window and staring at the passing clouds. Alice got up, leaving me to my rumination. Now, I felt like a bitch, but I couldn’t handle her. I couldn’t handle all of this. I wanted to take my anti-anxiety medications but it was in my checked bag, plus it made me exhausted. Perhaps, after the concert tonight.
The plane began to descend about an hour later, landing at a private airstrip just outside of San Antonio. There were a fleet of black SUVs waiting for us. We’d be staying in the same private residence, but there would be decoy cars to throw James off our scent. Supposedly … whatever that meant.