But it was there, obviously, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled tight around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free—so free—with Charlie's lawn stretching out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks.
It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt,166 since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper of Macbeth that was due Wednesday.167 I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene then I'd felt since... well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.
That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part of me, the part I agonized with. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through—usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks, or not love my father after he sent us his arm. But it was still better than arm-wrestling with the alternatives.
This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.
166. No bra.
167. Tuesday. Bella forgot to change her digital wristwatch for the last 24 years (it is a family heirloom, passed down from her mother when she Came of Age), and so is now a full day ahead.