A/N: I'm back with another Twilight One-Shot!! Wow, it's been a while… Anyways, I've been rereading Twilight in preparation for the great movie release in, yes, I know, more than a month, and I came across the scene of Bella's first day in Biology in Forks, otherwise known as a firsthand display of Edward's deep despise for her and how she doesn't think it's fair that he judged her so quickly. At which point, we are introduced to an interesting fact of her inner workings, and after learning about that, I just HAD to use it. That being said, we may proceed…
Disclaimer: I don't own Bella, Charlie, or any works of Twilight. That belongs to Stephanie Meyer!
I also disclaim the fact that I know why Bella's angry.
She tore into her room, her chest heaving with rage as she slammed the door shut with a crack that shook the walls.
"BELLA!" Charlie cried up the stairs, but she didn't hear him.
Enraged, she looked around for something, anything, to smash, break, rip to shreds like she felt inside; something to break how she was broken. The first thing to hit her line of sight was a glass figurine of a dancer that sat on the corner of the desk. Her mother had given it to her in her own dancing days. Her hand lashed out and smacked it from its standing and it shattered on the floor with a snap of a satisfaction into a million crystalline pieces.
As she saw red, her fingers snatched around her copy of Wuthering Heights and she threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the floor, pages open, a few of them bending in the process.
She tore blankets from her bedding and pulled at their seams before tossing them to the floor and kicking them around, stepping here and pushing there until she heard the fulfilling rips and tears of the material.
She felt like lifting her entire bed and tossing it through the wall.
She wanted to ram her fists through the window until the glass was as destroyed as the bits on her floor and her hands doused in crimson.
She felt like taking a hammer to the walls, creating thousands of holes.
Her mind following the last thought, her fingers curled into a fist and swung towards the blue wall.
Every one of her knuckles popped, a few bones snapped, and blood broke out on the tops of her fingers.
The pain was enough to pierce through the adrenaline of her rage and she whirled around, crying out in sheer agony as she fell to floor, clutching her broken hand to her chest.
It was only then, sitting crumpled in the middle of her floor amongst destroyed sheets and shards of crystal glass, that she noticed the tears running down her face, streaking rivers of ice in the snowy white complexion of her skin.
She lay there still as stone for what felt like hours, tears falling down her face, enduring the curse of her internal hardwiring…
A/N: questions, comments, concerns and reviews welcomed!
-Reigh
