Disclaimer: I own nothing, but this story idea.
The journalist stared at his computer in anger. All around him were papers. Piles and piles of old, aged newspapers. Oh but it wasn't just paper. That was just the majority. There were coffee mugs, key chains, open envelopes, a SubWay wrapper, among various oddities. The entire cubicle was what one would call a dump.
Although the area was clearly a unfit place to brainstorm for an article in the New York Times, news was always buzzing. And lately it seemed to the journalist that news was buzzing with the intensified rate of a thousand beehives.
For the first time in several years, the journalist was angry at the news.
There was an old saying "No news is good news." And if you chose to be in the journalism career, you must embrace it, come to terms with it, expect it. Only the tragedies make the front page, the real head lines are usually always melancholy. Eventually the journalist becomes so immune to bad news that they are completely numb when they are writing an article that would make the reader feel happy, angry, or sad. Of course there is passion in the writing, but the writer is numb to the feelings which they are writing about. Such is the fate of the journalist.
So this was an uncommon feeling. The journalist was angry at the entire situation happening in the United States, and feels completely powerless to stop it. He flips through the old papers and wanders in his memories by staring at the various head lines displayed prominently at the top of the page.
"Sarah Palin is elected president!"
"Palin places new book restrictions with the Child Literacy act"
"Riots in Washington sparked by obsessed teenagers"
"Rehab isn't only for alcohol addicts anymore" "Thousands of teenagers are sent to Literacy Rehab"
Suddenly disgusted, he throws the newspapers into the far edge of the cubicle. The papers crumple to the floor, but aren't damaged otherwise.
The journalist thinks of one word, a simple word really, that is responsible in throwing his own daughter in one of these "Literacy Rehab Centers" the government so kindly called it.
Twilight.
The journalist never read it, but his partners who write the "New York Times Best Seller Section" still talk about it quite frequently. It was simply about a teenage girl who fell in love with a vampire, and the problems they experience. A cliched subject, for there were many vampire novels.
And yet he was told there was something oddly unique about the story. Magical even. In fact it was so detailed, so artistically designed, that many people to this day believe that Twilight is anything but fiction.
When Palin was elected president, the woman placed a age ban on this book. She believed that some books were "inappropriate" for children, and they had to be twenty five in order to read such books.
And Twilight was on the list.
It sparked an uproar in the fan community as police officers came to inspect the house, take the books from the crying hands of young girls and boys. They would burn it without a thought. Some attempted to hide it, but the truth always came out. There was a reward for anyone who turned in others who were hiding the book. Relationships were severely damaged as their own loved ones turned in their family to the police.
This eventually led to the infamous May riots on the streets of Washington. Outside the streets thousands upon thousands of fans protested against the age ban. Each wore a shirt made to express the book they were protesting, and most were Twilight.
The police acted childishly. They lashed out against the crowd and a furious battle commenced. Many were hurt. Some were even killed.
Palin responded with the "Literacy Rehabilitation" act. What seemed to be before our very eyes, institutions of rehabilitation centers spread around the country like a disease. All were designed so that teenagers could "forget" about the books they so loved. It was optional at first, but it soon became mandatory.
The journalist sighed agitated. His own daughter had been away for a couple weeks now, and he missed her already.
It's just a shame. He thought. A real shame.
Suddenly inspired, the journalist began to write.
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Today would be a Forks day. I thought bitterly.
I sighed, knowing very well that negative thoughts would get me no where.
But who would be positive in a situation like this?
As we speak, my parent's van is driving up and up the winding hill so they could take me to a Rehabilitation Facility.
I don't do drugs. I've never touched a cigarette. Alcohol? Who would want it, it's disgusting! So why am I being sent to Rehab you ask?
Or would ask I suppose. A normal person about a little less than three years ago would've asked just that. But I live in a very different world than three years ago.
Back to my question, why am I being sent to Rehab?
Because apparently, I need to cure my obsession for a book.
Ridiculous!
It is true however that I am obsessed with none other than Twilight, the once wildly popular vampire novel, with a now dwindling fan base as more and more fans check into rehab.
But I am not going of my own free will, I am being forced.
My Dad turns to face me, his eyes filled with...pity?
"I'm really sorry about this Lily."
I pouted. I didn't want to hear his apologies.
"It is absolutely not my fault, Lily. I want you to remember that."
"Dad." I groaned. "I know it's not your fault! It's that stinking Palin's fault, if anybody. And the government who listened to her. And all the republicans who elected her."
"At least your friends will be there!" My Mom added, attempting to be optimistic.
"Yeah it'll be just like sleep away camp." I laughed bitterly.
Finally after many twists and turns in the winding road, the building came into view. It was an old brick building, it reminded me of a building where I took writing classes at during my summer in the city.. There were flowers and trees and windows as well.
The only difference I could see were barbed wire, and a toll both resembling area with two guards, gunned at all.
You would think they were sending me to prison or something!
Our van pulled up to the station. I squeezed my locket, which had a picture of the Twilight cover inside. Before I left, I glued the locket shut at my house. Although I would never see the inside of the locket again, I knew that I had a part of Twilight with me.
The guard tapped on the side of the car, and my Dad rolled down the window.
"Name." He asked, completely bored. I wonder how many people come through here every day. A lot, I suppose.
"Iseman." Dad responded.
The guard pulled out a clipboard. After flipping through several pages, he motioned for us to continue.
"Oh." The guard added. "Also inside the nurses will be doing a brief inspection, just to make sure you don't carry any of the forbidden literature materials."
Great a strip search. Could this day get any worse?
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Inside the place looked like any ordinary hospital.
There was a small waiting area that held no people. There were plastic plants, benches, and a painting of a man and a woman holding hands with the red cross symbol above their heads. The floor was made of marble.
Like Edward! I immediately thought.
To the right of the room was a small nurses station. A elderly woman looked up, and smiled ready to begin a long introduction.
"Welcome to the Albany rehabilitation center. I assume you are here for treatment on the Literacy Obsession?"
My parents nodded. I glared at her, trying to burn her with my mind. It did no justice.
"Well I need you to come with me so we can conduct a series of tests, and searches. You can say goodbye to your parents now."
I turned around to find my parents, smiling morosely.
I wrapped my arms tight around their bodies. I frowned. My Mom seemed so small. When did that happen?
We said our goodbyes and they left, without another word.
I watched in envy as the van drove down the road and into the hills, going further and further until it was gone.
The nurse put her arm on my shoulder affectionately. I shook away from her touch. She was with the government. They couldn't be trusted.
She gestured towards the white door at the end of the hall. We walked in through the doors together. I held my head high, and never looked back. I made a promise to myself, in that moment, that no matter what it took I would not let them "heal" me. In the end, I would remain loyal to the Twilight fan girl within me. I won't back down.
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After several hours of testing, which included Twilight trivia, a search through my baggage, and a small test on my Twilight based habits, they had me see a "therapist".
The therapist was a woman. She had small squinty eyes and pointy features that were very rodent like. Her blood red manicured nails tapped the clipboard which she held.
She reminded me of a character from Stephenie Meyer's book The Host. She looked like the seeker that hunted down Wanderer! I already didn't like her.
"Well Lily." She started. "Your test results are very disappointing. I understand you were part of the Washington riots?".
I nodded. As long as I lived, I would never forget it.
"You also have conducted several Twilight oriented behaviors. You have written four fan fictions, speak of Twilight regularly, have bought Twilight memorabilia, and even waited for the midnight release of Breaking Dawn and the first movie of Twilight."
"Yes." I responded, proud of my Twilight fandom.
"Now I ask this to all the patients who come in here you see. It is the most important question we have. You are on the very border of entering the Challenged Ward, Lily, and this question determines that."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"Do you believe Twilight exists?"
I had been asked this question many, many times. And every time I responded the same way.
"I believe somewhere, somehow Twilight exists. Not here, in our world. It's a book where we are." I laughed. But I turned to look her square in the eye with the most serious look I can give her. "But somewhere, Edward and Bella are dancing."
The therapist jotted a few notes on her clip board.
"Very pretty Lily, too bad it does you little help here. Guards, take her to the Challenged Ward. Make sure you are armed."
Guards appeared to my left and right. They held guns, as if I were dangerous.
Dangerous! I'm just a girl! I don't even like sports! What harm could I do to them?
The rat like woman laughed a shrill laugh that hurt my ear drums.
"I don't know what is the big deal about Twilight anyways." She began.
I hissed.
"And this Edward Cullen." She smirked. "What a joke."
Oh no. She. Didn't.
But she did
All I could see was red. Fury ran through my veins like a wild fire. I lunged on the woman as if I were a vampire about to bite her neck.She let out a small squeal as I tugged her hair.
"Take that back!" I screamed into her ear. I pulled her hair even harder, causing her to emit a full blown scream.
The men behind me strangled me. One of them held a small dart with a clear fluid. He injected it in me before I could respond. The scene became blurrier and blurrier. Then it went dark.
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Lily
Lily
Lily!
I groaned. My arms and legs felt sore, like rocks. Suddenly the world came back to me. The image was bleary at first, but I could hear voices in the background.
"Hey she's awake!"
"Does she remember what happened?"
"We'll see."
"Oh for the love of you know who, shut up!"
I awakened to find a large group of people standing over my head. Some boys were present, but there were mostly girls.
"Ugh." I moaned.
I rubbed my eyes, still weary from whatever they drugged me with. The memories were still bleary, but I faintly remembered attacking someone for who knows why. Oh that's right, she called Edward a joke.
That's when I clearly saw the faces of most of the people there, and to my surprise, I knew most of them.
"Maggie! Lauren! Ria!"
The three of us hugged.
"How long was I out?" I asked.
"About two days." Maggie informed me.
"What? Two days?" I couldn't believe it! That moment felt like it was only minutes ago!
"Whoa, heavy duty drugs." I leaned back into my pillows and sighed.
"So?" Ria asked.
"So what?"
"So what??? Why did they drug you! We've been waiting forever!" Lauren said in her usual hyper tone.
I blushed. This caught attention of most of the people in the room, all eyes were on me.
"Er, you see, I kinda attacked one of the therapist people."
Half the room gasped.
"Professor rat face?" One of the girls asked. I smiled at the remark, I felt exactly the same way. "What did she say?"
I growled, still angry at the comment she made. "She called Ed--"
Soon there were about four hands at my mouth, completely obscuring my voice.
Someone whispered in my ear, "We aren't allowed to say his name, they'll punish you."
After that, the hands that were covering my mouth disappeared, giving me the freedom to speak.
"She called him a joke."
The impact of the knowledge was instantaneous.
Some people gasped, but mostly people hissed. A couple kids called her a couple very impressive curse words.
A voice on one of the loud speakers blared through the room, and everyone grew silent.
"Paging Room 6A, level four. Go to sleep or we will send a guard up to your room, thank you." The voice clicked off.
Everyone sighed and turned out the lights.
In response, I pulled the pillow over my face. At least if I went back to sleep, maybe I would dream of vampires.
R&R please. Also I am looking for a beta for my stories. PM me if you are interested! =)
