Thirteen pt. 1 | Jacob

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"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you.'"
—Azra T. | My Heart is Full of Open Wounds

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Day four:

(2) missed calls. 1 voicemail message. 6:18 p.m.

"It's been four days," Jacob spoke quietly. "Charlie told my dad you were in New Mexico... Why are you in New Mexico?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer, and then realized that he was, in fact, leaving a voicemail, so an answer he would not receive. "You haven't called anyone back," he continued after a beat. "You haven't called me back." She could hear his shuddered breath sound through the phone line. "Is it because you're scared of me now? Is that why you left Forks? Are you terrified of me because you think I'm a monst-" he cut himself off with a sharp inhale, then went quiet for a few seconds. "Bella told me not to call myself that," he admitted with a resigned sort of sorrow. "But she already knew about the bloodsuckers. She already accepted them -already loved them. Bella's a lot tougher than you are, though. And I don't mean that how you think. I just- I... What I mean is that she doesn't get scared as easy -doesn't get hurt as easy. Not like you do." He paused. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry, but I have to know. I have to know what you think of me. That you're not afraid. That you don't think I am what I think I am, because it would kill me, Bay. It would kill me and I just- you have to- just please," he begged. "Come home." His voice grew soft. "I miss you." Then the line went silent.

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