Down the hall, through the thin walls, you could just make out the low murmur of Bella's voice. She was on the phone again. Probably with him. Edward Cullen. The name was a ghost in your own home, a presence that had pulled your sister into a world you couldn't follow.

Your own phone, the one you'd shared a thousand dumb memes and secrets with Jacob Black on, was dark and silent on your nightstand. It had been like that for weeks. The sudden, cold distance from your best friend was a sharper ache than the damp chill seeping through the windowpane.

Then, a new sound cut through the rain's white noise. A sharp tink. Then another. Tink. Tink.

Small, hard objects were hitting your window from the outside.