I don't remember how long I've been running for. If I thought on it, I probably could, but I can't. I can't think. I don't have time to think. I just have to keep moving. Even though I know it's hopeless. It won't matter how far I go. The hunters will catch me. They always do.
No matter what I do or where I go, I always fail. I'm not fast enough. I'm not strong enough. I cannot win, yet I still keep trying.
Why? Why do I drive myself knowing there is no hope? I don't understand it. Every time I try to stop, my heart aches. It isn't a physical ache, but a mental, emotional one. I feel like my heart is telling me that I haven't reached my destination, even though I've been on the move for months.
Each time I sleep—sometimes it's at night, sometimes by day, I don't sleep for very long—I have the same dream. The dream is of me running, of course, but it isn't me running away from anything. No. I'm running towards something. I'm running towards a voice calling my name, telling me that I'm almost there. The voice is musical and full of love and hope, calling to me.
Sometimes I think my subconscious is mocking me.
Still. Maybe I'm suicidal. Maybe I'm just stupid. But deep down, somewhere, there is a part of me that believes me heart is pulling me to the owner of that heavenly voice, which my subconscious has labeled my savior. I don't believe it. I can't be saved. I'm doomed to die one way or the other.
As I race against time, my mind swarms with questions that may never be answered, dreams that have been thrown into the wind and worries about the things to come.
I do not know what lies ahead for me. I dare not try to hope for the best, knowing that hoping will only bring disappointment and the reality of my situation crashing down on me. So what can I do, if not hope? I don't know.
I do, however, know one thing.
There is no hope for Isabella Marie Swan.