Chapter 11: Fracture Lines
Wednesday.
Charlie was already dressed when I came downstairs, sipping coffee and scanning a weather alert on his phone.
"Frost advisory's in effect. Drive slow, okay?" he said, tossing me the keys to the truck.
"Brand new treads — nothing can stop me now," I replied with a smirk.
"Let's not test that theory," he muttered into his mug.
I grabbed a granola bar, kissed his cheek, and headed out into the frozen world.
The school parking lot looked like a skating rink with bad lighting. I parked in my usual spot, grabbed my bag, and climbed out of the truck. The morning air bit at my fingers as I rifled through my backpack, standing by the driver door trying to find my Bio permission slip.
I didn't see the van.
I didn't hear it either — not until the screech of tires broke the quiet.
Then I saw the blur of blue out of the corner of my eye, spinning and fishtailing across the ice directly toward me.
My body didn't move.
But Edward Cullen did.
He was just there, suddenly, between me and Tyler's van.
A deafening crash of metal on metal.
The smell of burning rubber.
His arms locked around me, hard as steel, as we slammed into the pavement together.
And then — black.
ER.
Bright lights. Harsh voices. A needle prick.
The world came back in jagged pieces. My head throbbed. Someone shoved an oxygen mask over my face. Someone else was yelling about spinal trauma.
"I'm fine," I croaked, shoving at the mask.
"Ma'am, you were nearly crushed by a vehicle," the nurse said firmly.
"Yeah. But I wasn't. So maybe calm down."
A long sigh. Something about teenagers.
Then came the doctor.
Carlisle Cullen.
Of course.
"Hello, Isabella," he said gently. "Do you know where you are?"
"Yeah. Forks Hospital. Emergency room. And if this is a Cullen family reunion, I want better snacks."
His mouth twitched. "You're very lucky."
"More like very suspicious," I said, staring directly at Edward, who hovered in the doorway like a remorseful gargoyle.
Carlisle glanced at him, then back at me. "He'll step outside. Give us a minute."
Edward looked like he wanted to argue. One glance from Carlisle and he vanished like a spooked cat.
Carlisle checked my pupils, asked all the usual questions, and then cleared his throat.
"You seem remarkably well for someone who was nearly struck head-on."
"Must be all the calcium."
He didn't laugh, but I saw the faintest flicker of amusement.
Eventually, I was cleared. No concussion. Just bruises. Maybe a miracle or two.
Charlie arrived while they were unhooking the monitors.
"Bells," he exhaled, rushing to my side.
"I'm okay," I assured him. "Mostly mad I didn't drop-kick the the van before Volvo lover heroically flung himself into action."
Charlie looked at Carlisle, who gave a subtle nod.
"She's cleared. No internal injuries. But keep an eye on her tonight."
He nodded. "You bet."
Edward didn't reappear — not until I was already slipping my jacket on, ready to leave.
He materialized like a ghost in the hallway just outside my ER room, looking pale and uncertain.
"I wanted to say… I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly.
I blinked. "Thanks. For saving me. That van would've crushed me like a sad pancake."
A flicker of something passed through his eyes — relief, maybe. Or guilt.
"You're welcome."
There was an awkward silence. I glanced around. "So… how exactly did you get to me so fast?"
His jaw tensed. "I was right next to you."
"No," I said mildly, not confrontational, just observant. "You were across the lot. Tyler's van came from the other direction. You couldn't have been that fast. No offense — you don't exactly scream 'track star.'"
He looked almost amused. Almost. "You hit your head. Maybe your memory is off."
"I remember perfectly. Also, that thing where you stopped a whole van with your bare hand? Pretty unforgettable."
His mouth tightened.
I gave a short sigh and let it drop — for now.
"Well, thanks again," I said, softening. "Whatever the explanation is… I'm alive. So I owe you one."
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else. Then thought better of it.
"I'll see you at school," he said, already walking away.
"Sure. Looking forward to more life-saving surprises," I called after him, because apparently, I couldn't help myself.
He didn't turn around.
Home.
Charlie made me soup. Watched me like I might shatter. I assured him I wasn't made of glass. Just sarcasm and mild resentment.
He still insisted I rest.
I gave in — but not fast enough. He'd already called Renee.
She rang not long after I settled on the couch, shrieking through the phone loud enough I had to hold it away from my ear.
"ISABELLA MARIE SWAN, I SWEAR TO GOD — A VAN?!"
"Hi, Mom," I said blandly. "Yes. A van. I'm fine. No broken bones. Just mild bruising and a deeply rooted resentment toward overly dramatic mothers."
"You were almost killed! Phil says this is exactly the kind of freak accident that happens in small towns with no traffic cameras."
"Please thank Phil for his concern. I'll make sure to install a dash cam in my frontal lobe."
She sputtered for a moment.
"I'm fine, Mom," I repeated, softer. "Charlie's got me on lock-down. Soup, tea, and blanket jail."
"Well… good. I mean — not good, but... you know what I mean."
"I do."
After promising to text her in the morning and every morning until I was forty-five, I finally convinced her not to hop a plane.
Charlie gave me a thumbs-up from across the room, clearly listening to every word.
I curled into bed early, bruised and restless.
Dream-walk.
The fire was already lit when I arrived.
Damon stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, watching the flames like they'd wronged him personally.
When he saw me, his expression changed instantly — a scowl softened by concern.
"You look like hell."
"Feels like it too."
He stepped closer. "What happened?"
"Almost got crushed by a van. Would've been a pancake. But instead I got tackled by a sparkling vampire. So, you know... Wednesday."
His brows shot up. "Sparkling?"
"Yeah. Full-on disco ball in daylight. It was horrifying."
Damon blinked. Then snorted. "You're kidding."
I raised a brow. "Do I look like I have the energy to joke?"
"Sparkling," he repeated, lips twitching. "That's what passes for vampires these days?"
"Apparently. Super fast. Cold. Broody. With the emotional range of a soggy paper towel."
Damon burst out laughing.
A genuine, rich sound that made the trees seem to lean in and listen.
"You're serious."
"As a heart attack. Which I didn't have, by the way. Even when a literal vehicle tried to flatten me."
He stepped closer, his expression shifting.
"You could've died."
"But I didn't."
"I would've known," he said quietly. "If something had happened to you… I would've felt it."
The fire crackled between us.
Silence hung in the space where declarations didn't quite go.
Then Damon grinned again.
"So... a glittery undead hero saved the day?"
"Yup."
"I hate him already."
I smirked. "Join the club. But I have a part to play so I can live to see another day."
The dream stretched quiet after that. Safe.
And when I woke the next morning, my chest ached — not from bruises.
But from the way he'd said it.
I would've felt it.
Damon's POV
I felt it — the breath that didn't leave her lungs, the scream that never clawed up her throat. That flicker of pain that wasn't mine… and yet was.
I'd been reading. Something forgettable. It dropped from my fingers the moment my chest tightened like invisible hands were wrapping around my ribs.
And then she was there.
My ghost girl.
Tired. Bruised. Still snarky.
But something had shifted — like the world she'd come from had tried to erase her.
When she said 'van,' I wanted to tear into the ether and rip it apart with my bare hands even if I had no idea what it was.
When she said 'sparkling vampire,' I nearly lost it.
I laughed, because the alternative was doing something reckless. But the truth was clear — she was living in a world where no one saw her. Not really. Except maybe him. The glittery bastard.
And that pissed me off more than I could admit.
Because I wasn't there.
Because I couldn't be.
Because every time she vanished from my world, it left me a little more hollow.
She didn't know.
Not yet.
But I would find her.
Even if I had to burn the veil down myself.