Isabella Marie Swan

A series of letters are left with Bar, each neatly written -- as neat as she can make them, anyway. Nothing's crossed out or erased; she'd wanted to be sure of her words.

Which is why there is also a pile of rejects in the wastebasket up in the room she'd taken over for the evening, crumpled, some too smudged or tear-stained or just too badly worded. Too desperate. Too pleading. Even if please come back could be inserted between every line, she wanted to be stronger than she felt. It was weakness, after all, that had driven him from her. She tried to just be honest, to say her goodbyes as she felt them without pretending she wanted them to be gone, and apologize for all the trouble she caused.

She expected it to hurt less once she finished.

She couldn't tell if it did; there was no measuring this pain by degrees.

***

( Edward )

( Alice )

( Carlisle )

( Esme )

( Rosalie )

( Emmett )

( Jasper )