she's all you've got

I woke up to the sound of my name being called, but not in the way I was used to. It wasn't soft, wasn't the kind of groggy murmuring that came when Charlie needed me to wake up for school or when Bella wanted to steal my blanket in the middle of the night. No, this was sharp—frantic, almost. My heart leapt into my throat before I was even fully awake, a jolt of dread slamming into my chest like I'd already done something wrong. Then came the crash. Something heavy hitting the ground. A cupboard slamming shut so hard it rattled the walls. My breath hitched, my fingers clenching into my sheets as I sat up, disoriented, my pulse hammering.

I threw the blankets off and practically stumbled into the hallway, feet bare against the cold floor. The house was dim, the only light bleeding in from the kitchen, where I could hear the low, furious rasp of my father's voice. "Don't lie to me, Jacob," he snapped, each word sharp enough to cut. I could hear him pacing—Charlie never paced. "Where is she?" There was silence. Then a sharp exhale, the kind that carried the weight of something breaking. "You don't know?" He repeated, bitter, almost mocking. "Yeah. That makes two of us." And then came the sound of his phone slamming against the counter.

I stopped short at the threshold of the kitchen. Charlie was standing with both hands braced against the counter, his shoulders hunched, his head hanging low. His entire body looked like a live wire, like if someone touched him the wrong way, he might snap in half. I opened my mouth, but I hesitated, unsure if I was supposed to speak or not. But then his head lifted, and the moment his red-rimmed eyes landed on me, something in them cracked.

"Did you know?" The words were hoarse, torn straight from his throat.

My stomach twisted, my mouth suddenly dry. "W-what?"

"Did you know she was going to run off like this?" His voice was raw, edged with something frantic. "Did you help her?"

I felt my heart plummet, my breath catching in my throat. "No! I—Dad, I didn't—"

His face twisted, like he wasn't sure if he believed me, like he was looking for something—anything—to take his anger out on. "You're her sister, Marianne," he seethed, and suddenly my name sounded like an accusation. "You were supposed to look out for her! I trusted you!"

The sheer force of his voice, the desperation, slammed into me like a wave. My chest caved in on itself, my throat tightening as my eyes burned hot. I felt like a child again, like I had done something so terribly, irreversibly wrong. "I tried," I gasped, my voice shaking. "I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't—"

Charlie let out a sharp breath, running a rough hand through his already disheveled hair. For a moment, he just looked at me, his face exhausted, grief-stricken, too many emotions tangling together at once. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.

I broke instantly.

The moment my face hit his chest, the dam inside me shattered, and the tears spilled over. My hands clutched at his shirt, my shoulders shaking with the force of everything I had been holding in for so long. He held me tightly, his grip strong, his chin pressing against the top of my head. "It's okay," he murmured, voice softer now, worn-down. "It's okay, baby. I got you."

And for a second, I thought it was okay. I thought this was the part where things settled, where he would tell me it wasn't my fault, that I wasn't responsible for the fact that Bella had made her own choices. But then—then—he exhaled sharply, and his arms around me stiffened.

"She's all I've got," he muttered. His voice was low, almost to himself, but I heard every word.

It felt like the ground had been ripped out from underneath me.

I pulled back instantly, blinking up at him through blurry eyes. "W-what?"

Charlie's face twisted again, like he was trying to hold something in, but the words spilled out anyway. "I don't have time for this, Mari. Not now. Not when she's all I've got."

The air left my lungs in one sharp, painful breath.

Not when she's all I've got.

Not we. Not us. Just her.

It was like the words had punched a hole straight through my chest, tearing out everything soft and leaving only hollow space behind. Charlie's expression shifted, regret flashing across his face for half a second, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

I pulled a coward's move, and turned around to leave— slamming the front door behind me.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Leah didn't look up as I approached, which I took as a good sign. Or maybe just a sign that she didn't care. Either way, I didn't turn back. I lowered myself onto the sand beside her, the grains still damp from the earlier storm, clinging stubbornly to my jeans. My arms folded over my knees, and I stared out at the ocean, mirroring her posture. The waves were still restless, rolling in heavy and uneven, capped with white foam like angry mouths opening and closing. The air carried the sharp scent of salt and rain, the kind that stuck to your skin long after you'd gone inside.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Just the rhythmic crash of the water, the distant caw of seagulls, and the occasional muffled voices from houses higher up on the cliffs. Someone's radio played faintly, a song I didn't recognize, but the melody felt too cheery for the mood. The silence between us should have been awkward. Any other time, with any other person, it would have been. But Leah was good at existing in silence, and for once, I was grateful.

I, however, was not built for this kind of thing. If there was one thing I was consistent about, it was saying something dumb to fill the void.

"So," I started, shifting to wrap my arms tighter around myself. "On a scale of one to catastrophic, how stupid would it be if I just—" I gestured vaguely at the water, "—got in my truck and drove off into the ocean?"

Leah's expression remained completely unchanged. Not a blink, not a twitch, just pure, unbothered neutrality. "Depends," she said flatly. "Are you asking because you actually plan on doing it, or are you just being dramatic?"

I frowned. "Bit rude."

She snorted. "Bit honest."

I sighed, digging my fingers into the damp sand. "I just—I don't know. Everything sucks right now, and I figured I'd try the whole brooding on the beach while looking vaguely tragic thing. Seems to be the thing to do around here."

Leah let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well. Let me know how that works out for you."

I let the wind carry the silence between us again, my hair whipping across my face in tangled waves. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should've just gone home, locked myself in my room, and let Charlie continue pretending I didn't exist until Bella came back and made everything right again.

But instead, my mouth opened.

And then I started talking.

Not really on purpose—just in that way where once the dam cracked, the flood couldn't be stopped. I told her about Bella. About how she risked everything to follow a Cullen to Italy, just to save another, like she hadn't just spent months walking around like a half-dead zombie. About how Jacob had thrown his whole soul into being her savior, like some tragic, dumb, lovesick idiot. About how Charlie had snapped at me— aswell as Jacob and had the audacity to spew she's all I've got, as if I was an afterthought in my own house.

Leah listened—or at least, she looked like she was listening. But when I paused to take a breath, she exhaled sharply and ran a hand through her hair, frustration practically radiating off her.

"Oh my God," she muttered. "Do you ever shut up?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

Leah turned toward me fully now, her expression shifting from neutral to full-blown exasperation in record time. "Look, I get it. Life sucks. People suck. But you're not the only one with problems, Swan."

I opened my mouth, but she wasn't done.

"You think you're the only one who's been tossed aside like you don't matter?" Her voice had an edge to it now, something bitter, something tired. "The only one who's watched someone leave and never look back? You think you've cornered the market on being abandoned?" She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Get in line."

A cold, sharp feeling settled in my stomach. My throat tightened, but I forced out a response anyway, words sharp and uneven. "Yeah, actually. I reckon I do know how that feels."

Leah's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk, but wasn't quite anything else either. She looked at me like she wanted to say more, wanted to yell, maybe. But instead, she let out a bitter laugh, pushing herself to her feet and brushing sand off her shorts with a little too much force. "Go ahead," she said, voice flat. "Sit here and cry about how unfair your life is. See if it changes anything."

And then she walked off, her footsteps barely making a sound in the wet sand.

I sat there, stunned, the wind stinging my tear-stained cheeks, my stomach a hollow pit of something I didn't want to name.

Then I swallowed, stood up, and did the next worst thing I could think of.

I went to the cliffs.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The walk there felt longer than usual. Maybe because my body was heavier, weighed down by the words Leah had thrown at me like darts, each one hitting its mark. Maybe because my brain wouldn't stop replaying them over and over, twisting them into something even worse.

By the time I reached the ledge, my chest ached, but I wasn't crying. Not yet, anyway. The sky had darkened even further, storm clouds rolling in, swallowing the last hints of blue. The wind had picked up again, howling through the trees, rattling the branches like bones.

I sat down, the cold seeping through my jeans as I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. The ocean below was dark and endless, the waves smashing against the rocks in a way that looked almost violent.

I wasn't going to jump.

I just needed to think.

And for the first time all night, the ocean didn't have an answer.