Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Hey guys. I've been feeling guilt ridden and apprehensive lately so I decided to write this story. No, I'm not going all suicidal and whatnot, it's just that I've been under a lot of stress lately and need something passionate and angsty to write about. Please listen to the songs that I have lyrics from in this story; they're all fantastic.

There's no escape for you except in someone else
Although you've already disappeared within yourself
The invisible man who's always changing clothes
It's all about taking the easy way out for you I suppose

Easy Way Out- Elliot Smith-Figure 8

Song name-Artist-Album

Chapter One- Easy Way Out

The size of the cliffs frighten me, I'll admit. I recall Jacob Black telling me they are as tall as Superman, Ride of Steel, one of the tallest roller coasters ever. 208 feet up. But he was exaggerating. They're only 150 feet up which is just so much better. If you jump off at that height, you die; no question about it. Especially if you fall onto the black rocks jutting out awkwardly from the water. And somehow if you manage to escape the rocks with only broken limbs, then you can drown in the water! How delightful!

But drowning or hitting the rocks is really what I'm banking on right now. The water foams angrily, not unlike a big dog with rabies.

It's stormy and the wind howls, blowing my hair about and making my pale, sickly, skinny form shudder, as I'm not wearing a sweater. As a matter of fact, I'm only wearing jeans and a T-shirt, not even any shoes to protect my fragile feet from the shards of broken shell littering the beach. I'm giving the rest of my clothes to charity, as some sort of final act of kindness.

You may be wondering why I'm standing here in the middle of a storm with no shoes on contemplating the enormity of some rocks. I've asked myself the same question several times now and my answer is always him. Yes, him. Oh, you don't know who I'm talking about do you? Him (please note the emphasis on HIM) is Edward Cullen.

Edward Cullen is, without a doubt, the single most complex, most beautiful, most frustrating person I have ever met. You may now be wondering why such a perfect being is the cause of my imminent jump to my doom. To answer your question, he's not. Well, not completely, anyway. There are plenty of contributing factors, of course; all depressed people have more than one reason to kill themselves.

I'm not some desperate, lovesick teenager like everyone in my life seems to think.

I'm misunderstood.

Okay, that's a crap excuse but you have to understand here; I am in love with Edward Cullen and he is not in love with me and nobody seems to give a shit… did I mention that I'm not desperate?

I'm not the most popular person around as you can probably see from my thrice broken "hipster" glasses, my baggy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, and jeans that don't show off my ass as well as they used to, but does that really matter in love? Obviously. What, you think I'm a dumbass or something? That, my children, is an important fact of life.

Edward Cullen is the most coveted boyfriend ever. He brings you roses and kisses you on the cheek your first date and doesn't even attempt to get in your pants until the tenth. (I learned this information by eavesdropping on Tanya and her cronies in gym.)

Tanya was Edward's last "girlfriend". That one only lasted a week. Edward told me she was too clingy and arrogant. The main reason, though, was that she had been cheating on him with three other guys.

By now, and I know I've been saying this a lot but, you're probably asking yourself why the hell I'm in love with some popular guy who I've probably only talked to in first grade when everyone was genderless. Well, all you bitches are wrong.

Edward Cullen, in addition to being the world's greatest boyfriend, is the world's greatest best friend. My best friend.

I know him inside and out. I know him forwards and backwards. I know him east to west. I know him. Period.

He doesn't care about my popularity status. But would he date me? No. Because he doesn't want to ruin our friendship? Because my boobs aren't big enough? Because of some other fucked up reason? If you guessed all of the above, you are correct. He's shallow. But you know what? Everyone is shallow. It's an impossibility to go through life without meeting a person who is shallow because every single person on God's green earth is fucking shallow.

Hell, even I am! I didn't go to the dance with Eric Yorkie because he has zits the size of Montana on his oily face. And because I find him odd.

But back to the point. Edward Cullen is not the only factor that has contributed to my soon-to-be death. He is merely the last straw, the flint that sparked my decision, if you will.

Sorry to bore you to death, but in order to understand we have to start from the beginning. The very beginning.

My parents always fought. While they were dating, during the wedding rehearsal, during the wedding, when Mom was pregnant with me, and all the time up to when I was five, give or take a few years. Why didn't they break up before then? Who the hell knows? My personal opinion is that they were both naïve and thought arguing that much was normal, but, like I said, who the hell knows?

When they got divorced, Renee (aka: Mom) dragged me to Phoenix, Arizona, land of the dead dirt. There I stayed, only going back up to Forks for occasional visits to Charlie (Dad). I was forced to grow up quickly, as Renee was as free spirited as the wind and needed someone to look after her and that someone was me.

That is contributing factor number one. I've always resented Renee for taking away my childhood, my freedom. While she went out and partied, I was forced to cook dinner all by my lonesome. When she came home, occasionally with some guy, I locked myself in my room and read. I became a bite sized adult with Dora sneakers. I have always hated Renee for being a child, replacing each year of her supposed "womanhood" with my childhood. I was left with nothing.

Right now, you're probably feeling some inkling of pity for me, now that you've gotten over the ridiculousness of my situation and my attitude. Well, erase that pity. Stamp on it with stilettos for all I care because I don't want it.

I'm merely explaining why I'm about to jump off a cliff that will surely kill me.

When I finally moved back to Forks at age seventeen, that's when I met Edward. I remember the day we met very clearly in my mind.

There was some trivial class I was running to on my first day. I realized after I had walked in the opposite direction for three minutes that my map was flipped the wrong way and that my class was on the other side of the school. As I was running, looking at my feet as always, because you never know what you'll slip on, I ran into him.

"Shit!" he cried out loudly, attracting a few glares from some teachers. I groaned, my head ringing.

"EDDIE-BOO!" a high, squeaky, unappealing voice screamed. "Oh my goodness gravy, are you alright?" He mumbled something that I couldn't understand and rose slowly to his feet.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH! YOU COULD HAVE RUINED HIS FOOTBALL CAREER WITH THAT STUNT!" the girl screeched, reminding me of the Superb Lyrebird, thought to be one of the loudest birds in the world.

"Gee, I'm so sorry!" I groaned sarcastically. "You know, so many stupid people bank on football as their career choice. I'd hate to think that I ruined "Eddie-Boo's" future by causing a bruise on his shoulder!"

The girl hissed menacingly but then the man chuckled loudly. I automatically turned to the noise and saw the most delicious, gorgeous, beautiful creation I had ever seen. His disheveled bronze hair, those green eyes that shined like emeralds, and a six pack that clearly showed through his T-shirt made me want to drool. In fact, I'm pretty sure I did.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he introduced himself, completely ignoring his outraged girlfriend. "You must be the new girl, Isabella Swan. Am I correct in my assumption?" His words sort of melted together in a melody that reminded me of honey and melted chocolate. His grammar was impeccable and his word choice seemingly from another era.

And that was how we met. He walked me to my next class, blowing off his girlfriend whose name I would later learn was Lauren, and offered me a seat at his lunch table which I readily accepted. I realized what a big deal this was from Angela who was within earshot when he invited me.

"Edward Cullen asked you to sit with him? Oh my God!" I was ready to call her out on the disgusting disbelief in her voice when I remembered Charlie's words that morning.

"Hey, Bells?" he said from across the table, finally putting down the sports section from the newspaper.

"Yes, Dad?" I answered like the very polite, non-disturbingly stubborn daughter I am (in his presence).

"Please, for your sake, try not to be so… abrasive."

I had been annoyed for a little bit, thinking I was in no way "abrasive" but then I realized the truth of his words. Oh, shut up! Timothy Green had it coming!

Who's Timothy Green? Well, in third grade, Timothy called me fat. Charlie brought me to that self-defense class for a reason. If some punk ass third grader verbally abuses you, you have the right to kick and/or punch them in the balls. Let's just say I don't think Timothy Green be making any babies in the near future.

Later that day as I entered the lunchroom, my heart sunk to the pit of my stomach when I saw where Edward's table was. It was dead center in the middle of the room and it was crowded and the people there simply looked obnoxious. I was determined not to make a fool out of myself so I sauntered over like I owned the place and plopped down next to him.

"Hey," he stated, grinning at me like he'd won the lottery.

I nodded my head, trying to be so cool and ever so indifferent. After thirty seconds, I said to myself Screw it and began talking to him.

That's when I realized, Wow, he's not some jackass, jocky womanizer. Well, not completely anyway. I hadn't yet realized I was in love with him yet. He just seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I was having a fabulous time talking to him when someone else interrupted Edward.

"Who's the babe?" some kid with blond hair and a baby face asked. He spewed his ham and Swiss sandwich all over some other girl who screamed and ran for the bathroom.

Edward's eyebrows furrowed, obviously annoyed with the boy talking.

"Mike, this is Bella Swan. Bella, meet Mike Newton."

Mike stuck out his drool covered hand for me to shake so I did. Reluctantly.

You will find out more about that vile Mike Newton later.

I'm still facing the cliffs. Now I'm wondering how in hell I'm going to climb all the way up there without killing myself before I even get to the top. Now that'd be embarrassing.

Seventeen year old Isabella Swan, daughter of the famed police chief, died while climbing up a 150 foot high cliff. Once she got up there she was going to commit suicide. Kind of ironic, isn't it? It's-it's su-such a tragedy, you know? HAHAHAHAHA! God, that's so fucking funny!

Jacob said once that the Rez is planning on closing off the cliffs because so many people die up there, whether it's intentional or not. We used to joke that we better kill ourselves up there quick, before they have time to close it. Well, it's not really a joke now, is it, Jacob? As a matter of fact, they're closing it tomorrow.

I sigh; thinking of Jacob makes me depressed. We were best friends all through middle school and he would write me letters when I was in Phoenix. I still have all of them hidden under my bed. Whenever I feel sad, I drag them out and trace the indentations in the paper and feel the rough patches my tears have left there over the past few months.

Jacob died last year of a heart attack.

Yes, it turns out that my sweet, loving best friend Jacob Black was on crack. Who knew? I sure as hell didn't.

Jacob is contributing factor number two. He didn't look like a drug addict but the doctors said he had been on it for several years. I've heard so many stories about people who knew their loved ones were on drugs and were too scared to say anything. Well, that makes you a horrible person. Why would you want someone close to you to die of an overdose or just because they're taking the drug? At least I didn't know. Nobody knew.

I contemplate driving as close to the cliffs as possible but I decide not to. I want to feel the pain. I want to feel the shells biting into my feet. I want to feel the ache of my weak muscles. I want to feel alive.

Ah yes. Sarcastic, sardonic Bella is always fun to write. In case you haven't already noticed, she's a little OOC. Please review with your ideas and your criticism and your love and your hate. If I get at least fifteen reviews I will continue this story. I accept anonymous reviews so you have no excuses!

Xoxo becky