Someday
Chapter 1 – Jacob and Atlanta
Present
My name is Isabella Carmichael (Née Swan), I am 34 years old and live in England with my husband and two children. On the surface, my life looks fantastic. I am wealthy, my 12 year old daughter, Sarah, plays tennis for the county and my 8 year old son, Conner, can play grade 6 guitar. But in reality, my life is a sick hell. All because of him.
16 years ago, in Forks, Washington
"Well, Isabella. There isn't that much we can do if you refuse to go to the clinic-" The doctor looked at me again, "but I can prescribe these anti-depressants for you."
He wrote something down on a slip of paper,
"Give this to the pharmacist on your way out please"
He held out the paper to me. I stared at it, not entirely sure what a normal human reaction to it would be.
"Isabella?" The doctor was probably questioning my sanity, again.
Admitted, I must look a mess. I don't bother with my appearance any more, just roll out of bed and chuck on pants and a shirt. I didn't have a reason to get out of bed, my friends used to call me, but then the calls stopped. Somehow, my brain managed to make me take the slip and leave the doctors office, stumbling and having to catch hold of the door. No need to tell him that my balance problems weren't the caused by anything medical. I walked numbly through the corridors, seeing everything but not taking anything in. I rarely even left the house now, just lay in bed all day. Charlie was begging me to go to the clinic, saying it would be good for me. But no way I was going in a place full of mental people. I would probably fit in though, being mentally unstable too. I rushed to the pharmacy, eager to leave the bland hospital. As I handed in my paper, feeling a sense of deja vu, I saw something in my peripheral vision. An absurdly tall dark haired and copper skinned boy walked in. His almost black eyes looked at me shadily.
This wasn't the Jacob Black I knew.
"Bella" He grumbled in his husky voice.
I looked at him.
"Jacob, what are you doing here?" My voice sounded dead.
He chuckled darkly,
"I guess we all have problems, huh?" His eyes met mine again and I realised he was being deadly serious.
"What happened to you?" I asked, and then looked down.
It must have been weeks since I'd had a conversation with someone.
He glared at me,
"What do you mean what happened to me? Had a look in the mirror recently, Bella?"
I flinched away from the new leather-clad Jacob, seeing no remorse in his eyes.
"Miss Swan?"
I turned back to the pharmacist, who was holding a white paper bag out to me, with a label that read 'Sertaline'.
Just as I was about to leave, Jacob impatiently tapped my shoulder.
"What do you want Jacob?" I tried not to sound as dead, it wasn't working.
"Just...just stay away from the Rez. Or we'll interfere. And if you see those pathetic leeches you love so much, tell them we're taking no prisoners."
I took an unnecessary and rather shaky breath as I composed my response.
"What...what do you mean?" I whispered.
He glowered at me again,
"You know exactly what I mean"
And with that, I left. Leaving the strange, new and scary Jacob behind in the pharmacy.
As I drove my ancient Chevy back to my house, I thought about Jacob. Why did he need to go to the hospital? Billy had permitted most of the Quileute tribe from going since... I took a sharp breath, the movement hurting my ribs. I let my mind wander back to Jacob's appearance. Shutting my eyes, I imagined his slicked back ponytail and easy-going grin. I imagined him looking like a giant next to me. His face used to be youthful and now it was angular and hard-set. His eyes had looked at me with an intense hatred, when I was positive that I hadn't done anything to make him behave that way to me. With a jolt, I realised I was veering of course. I opened my eyes, just in time to see my truck-and me-crash into a huge truck carrying logs.
My eyes twitched open, and I immediately shut them again. The bright lights had only confirmed my subconscious suspicion. I was in a hospital-not in Forks, I'd been there many times and would surely recognise it. I heard a soft thud, like someone putting down a rather heavy book and then I was hit by the smell of vanilla hand soap. Only one person I knew used vanilla hand soap.
"Mom?" I asked with my eyes shut.
"She's awake!" I heard my mother cry.
I felt her hugging me and winced, trying to make the pain go away.
"I'm sorry baby!" She gushed, sounding genuinely upset that she'd hurt me.
I opened my eyes.
"Where am I?" I asked looking around for something that would tell me where I was.
My mom sighed and perched on the side of my bed, trying not to jostle the various tubes and wires that were connected to a monitor.
"Atlanta, sweetie. You were in an awful car crash! Your truck got totally squished by a huge truck! They thought you may not wake up."
"What do you mean 'wake up'?" I pulled my eyebrows together and regretted the action.
My mother sighed and rested a hand on my shoulder,
"Honey, you've been unconscious for over a week. They said you may brain damage."
I mulled over that for a second. Weren't people with brain damage the people that constantly drooled and had to be spoon-fed mush like a baby?
"Do I?"
My mom sighed again and gave me the 'well, here goes' face,
"They think you may have amnesia, but they have to run some tests first. You'll recover though"
I could see that she was trying to convince herself that I'd be okay-that made me feel bad;my mothers pain cut me deeper than my own.
"I'll be okay, mom"
A doctor came in then, his blonde hair turning white under the light. I was stunned my his good looks, my mouth hanging open.
"Isabella Marie Swan" He said as he flicked through what looked like notes.
I somehow managed to shut my mouth and concentrated on making my eyes stop popping out of my head.
"Well, the bad news is that you have a broken leg, several fractured ribs and lots of bruises, but the good news is that the ribs didn't puncture anything"
He frowned.
"That would get nasty."
I looked at him again, sensing some recognition, but recalling nothing.
He was very good looking, with blond hair and topaz eyes. His skin was very pale-paler than me. His name tag read 'Dr C. Cullen'. The name seemed familiar. I racked my brain for the answers, but I was met with a barrier.
"I can't remember" I muttered-in what I thought was an inaudible voice-to myself.
Doctor Cullen looked at me.
"That can't be can't you remember?"
"I don't know, its like a barrier blocking of something"
He appeared to think for a second.
"Its is quite plausible that your brain has repressed memories-maybe to protect you. I will have to run some tests to be sure, Bella."
"Why did you call me Bella?"
Doctor Cullen looked shocked for a moment, then he controlled his expression.
"Never mind." He said bluntly, before leaving.
I was determined to figure out what my mind was 'repressing' and I'm pretty sure it involved Doctor C Cullen.
