##!7/30/18! Okay, so I hit some major block with this story. My bad. It was not my intention to leave it there, unfinished. I don't like how it has turned out and am currently rewriting it right now. I will not be posting the new version until it is complete so that I can be sure it doesn't remain a WiP. I'm sorry for the people who enjoyed this story, I hate to disappoint. I will update this when the new version is ready.
I hope you all give it a chance.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and she is brilliant.
Chapter 1: The Mistake
"Don't even start with me tonight, Charles," my mother warned as she and my father entered the kitchen where I sat at the table eating my dinner of canned ravioli.
Oh, great. I rolled my eyes. The parentals were on one again.
"I wasn't the one making a fool of myself, Renee," my father seethed following close behind her, his meaty hands balled into fists.
My mom turned on him so fast, he bumped right into her and she pushed him back. Hard. "You think if I speak to another man that I'm trying to screw him! I am so sick of being under your damn scrutiny. You're the one who embarrassed us this time, Charles. Don't even try to pin this one on me."
Same old fight. Mom's a whore, dad's insecure, mom's drunk and yelling, dad's fingers are twitching for his gun at his belt. Blah, blah, blah.
I tuned them out and focused on my dinner. I was so not in the mood to deal with those lunatics. I had my own stuff going on. Like, where the hell the party at tonight? I needed to get drunk, get crunk, and make some bad life choices. And I needed to do it asap.
I dumped the rest of my food into the trash, along with the can I was eating it out of. I think the fork as well... but, whatever. There was like twelve more where it came from.
I locked myself in my room, my parents voices muffled by my door, and grabbed my phone off the charger. I had 3 missed calls and 12 texts. I scrolled through the texts one by one and they all said pretty much the same thing.
Party at the high school. 1Am
I knew we were just asking for trouble with this one. And I'd be damned if I couldn't resist the powerful temptation of that. I wouldn't say that I got off on getting in trouble, being rebellious, pissing my parents off, getting arrested...
Shit, I cannot tell a lie. Yeah. I really do.
I'm a sick puppy. I mean, what else are we teenagers supposed to do in this boring ass town? Attend the football games we always lose? Tell lame ghost stories and eat s'mores? Help old lady Cope cross the street? No! We need to live a little. Spread our wings and soar... or whatever. Basically, we needed to release some pent up energy by of party.
I checked the time. Less than two hours til kickoff. Never one to be late to a party, I grabbed a quick shower, put on my Friday night best – jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie – and then dialed my favorite person on the planet.
"Hey, Bella," my best friend whispered. She had to be quiet. She had a strict bed time and lots of rules that I never quite understood, but loved to help her break.
"Angela! 1Am, high school, party, booze, boys, and bad decisions. Please say you're in."
There was a long pause on her side and I knew she was deliberating if she would go or not. Angela comes from a very religious, very strict, very boring PG-13 household. Her father, a Lutheran minister and her mother, a Susie-homemaker, run a tight ship. It took me a really long time to break through Angela's walls and get her to cut loose. And boy, can that girl cut loose. Her parents couldn't stand me.
I sat at my desk and doodled on my notebook while I waited for her to give in. She always gave in. Not that she was a pushover or a doormat, but deep down, the girl loved to have some misguided fun. And I was more than happy to be her captain, steering her in the wrong direction.
After about a good 3 minutes, she finally let out a long sigh and I grinned.
It was on.
.
"This is such a bad idea, Bella," Angela whispered again as we made our way through the sleepy town, cutting through yards and jumping fences til we reached our destination.
"I know," I shrugged, "but we're almost there so no point turning back now." I grabbed her by the hand and pretty much had to drag her the rest of the way.
We were about four yards from the school and I could already hear the music pumping from Tyler's van. He had a sick sound system. If that bass drops, we're all gonna drop. I could see lights, hear laughing, and finally a cluster of Forks finest future criminals. According to my chief of police father, that is.
"Hey, Bells!" Mike, my kinda not boyfriend bounded up to us with beers in his hands, his blond locks falling over his pale blue eyes. "Angela," he added sweetly, handing us each a cup. Everyone knew to be nice to my bestie. She wasn't really apart of the 'in' crowd. I think that's why I liked her so much.
Yeah, I loved to party, have fun and bring her along with me. But she was also the only person I could talk to. Like, really talk to. Have an actual two-way conversation with. And she made me feel better about... well, she made me feel better. I loved that girl.
Angela took the beer and muttered a shy "Thank you."
The party was in full force, not exactly a rager, but definitely skimming the lines of a backwoods bash. However, I was getting kinda bored. We had been there for almost two hours, five beers, three shots, and half a joint, and I was so. Damn. Bored. I didn't get why this party just wasn't doing it for me. I was itching for something more.
Something needs to happen before I actually leave a party early for once.
I scanned the area. Party was in full bloom, music loud, people high, dancing, grinding, yelling, singing, fighting, being idiots... yet the cops did not show. Maybe that was it. I needed more risk for my rush. The school was a good distance from any respectable residence.
Our noise fell on deaf ears. That just would not do.
After dodging Mike's relentless sexual advances, verging on assault, an idea hit me right in the face and I swung back with all my might. I walked up to Mike and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was more than eager to reciprocate. I slid my hands down his sides and felt for his front hoodie pocket, sticking my hands in on both sides. My fingers came into contact with cold, jagged metal.
His car keys were almost too easy to steal. I was actually bummed it didn't require more effort. I was becoming too good of a pick-pocket.
He had a nice ride. Not quite sure what it was, nor did I care to know. All I knew was it was shiny and fast. Mike often bragged about how fast his car could go and I was going to find out for myself. No one likes a bragger anyway.
I found Angela leaning against the side of the school with Tyler Crowley nearly passed out next to her. She had a half empty forty in her hand. "Bella, my friend," she slurred and giggled pushing her upper body off the brick wall, only falling back twice. "What's happ... up in here?"
"Uh, yeah. Whatever you say, boozie," I snickered and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd with me. Her usually graceful poise a thing of the past as she stomped and stumbled her way through the throng of people.
"Who... I mean... where are they going?" Angela mumbled, her head lolling back and hanging over my shoulder as I tried to push her into the passenger seat. She was dead weight.
"We are going for a ride, my friend," I grunted. Finally I had her in and closed the door. I looked around and noticed Mike barreling his way through the crowd toward us. He did not look amused.
Shit.
Running as quickly as my short legs could manage, I made it around the front of the car and squealed as I jumped into the driver side, just as Mike reached us. I pressed on the button on the key chain, locking him out.
"Sorry, Mike!" I shouted through the closed window and locking my seat belt in place around me. "Beer run!"
His palms slapped at the glass ferociously, his face a mixture of pissed off he-man and drunken bemusement. "Bella, this is so not fucking cool, dammit! Get out of my ride," he moaned, jerking the handle with a force that shook the car.
I got some kind of demented and sick enjoyment from the incredulous look on his face when I sped past him and out of the school parking lot, laughing loudly and cranking up the radio. I wasn't sure what was playing but it was loud, fast paced and made me feel good. I glanced at Angela, noticing her struggle with her seat belt. It was kind of hard to do one handed... and drunk. And she seemed dead set on cradling that forty to her chest like a new born baby.
We were speeding down the back roads, trees nothing but a blur and I was breaking 80 miles and still gaining velocity, my body almost suctioning to the leather seat with the quick increase in speed. It was dark out. Really dark. I played around with all the buttons and levers near the steering wheel, searching for the high beams.
Is this a fucking spaceship?
"I can't work this darn thing," Angela griped, obviously getting very frustrated with the seat belt. I almost couldn't hear her over the steady beat of the music surrounding us.
Without looking at her, I grabbed the beer from her hand, ignoring her protests. "Now try."
The speedometer read just over 90 miles and I knew we were coming to a sharp turn soon. I eased my foot off the gas and peered over at my best friend, no longer struggling with her seat belt. In fact, she seemed to completely abandon that task. Her red rimmed eyes distant but searching.
"Ange, put your seat belt on," I reminded her. Safety first, you know.
"Where's... I think I lost my beer," she mumbled, looking around.
"I have it, now put your seat belt on, ya goof," I giggled, reaching over to her and trying to lock it in place myself.
"Oh, wait!" She slapped my hands away and giggled. "It's outside."
Angela made a grab for the passenger side door. The wind whistled in and Angela's body lunged to the side, trying to climb out of a moving vehicle going well over the 30 mile speed limit.
"Jesus Christ!" I screamed, grabbing her by the hood of her sweater and pulling her back in. She yelled and fought me but finally, I had her back in the car and the door securely shut.
"Are you craz- FUCK!" I looked back to the road in time to see trees right in front of us. We had made it to the turn. The car lurched forward and down the large dip where the forest met the road. There was no time for me to stop it.
There was no time.
Angela screamed. I was dead silent at this point, not sure what to do my stomach flew into my throat then fell back down when the wheels hit the forest floor. I tried to avoid the trees, but there was one at every turn. I tried to slow the car down but my foot kept kitting the gas. It was stuck. I was stuck. Nothing was holding me there but the fear in my soul.
We're going to fucking die.
I couldn't move. I could see Angela out of the corner of my eye flying around the car. I heard her head hit the side window, felt her body ram into mine and then back again.
Over and over again. She was being thrown around like a ragdoll and I was helpless to stop it. We were skimming trees, barely missing them. I was sure the side view mirrors were taken off but I was too scared to look. The car suddenly shifted and gained momentum. We were going down a hill.
Take your fucking foot off the gas!
Finally I forced my led foot off the gas petal, but it was too late. A large oak was illuminated by the high beams ahead of us. We were going to hit it.
We are going to die.
.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I knew that sound. But I didn't know why I was hearing it. Sure, I had woken up in the hospital many times before. Accidental overdose – sometimes not so accidental – stomach pumped from alcohol, or even the standard, 'clumsy Bella fell down the stairs again'.
But I usually remembered why I was here. The hospital. Hearing my heart beat over the monitor.
I groaned. "Fucking shit." MY mouth tasted awful and my voice was hoarse. My head was throbbing. My body felt like a giant bruise.
Did I fall down the stairs again?
"Bella?"
I turned my head to the sound of another voice, my neck kinking from the movement. There was something around my neck. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. I attempted to pry my heavy lids open, but to no avail. They were stuck together like glue was holding them.
"Bella, are you with us?"
"Hmmm," was all I could muster. I tried to reach my hand up to my face, maybe lift my lids open with the help of my fingers, but my left arm was being held back by something and I felt a sharp pain in my hand when I tried to move it.
An IV?
I tried my other arm, this one, while aching something fierce, actually made it to my face and I rubbed at my eyes until they opened, bleary vision and water colored, but I could see.
A tall woman with pitch black hair tied into a bun and pale pink scrubs stood over me.
"Nurse Wendy?"
She loved me. Thought I had spunk or whatever. She was always there when I was wheeled into the hospital. She didn't agree with a lot of my life choices, but she never judged me. She would give me stern talking-to's and disappointed glares, but other than that, I was her favorite patient.
"Glad to see me again?" I tried to joke, but my voice came out scratchy and dull. I cleared my throat.
Wendy sighed and I felt her hand touch the top of my head. "I'm going to inform Dr. Moore than you're awake now."
She didn't even look at me when she left.
Okay... that's odd.
Dr. Moore came in and checked my vitals and asked if this or that hurt, to which I replied with a big ol' painful yes! He asked me questions about the date, how many fingers, my birthday, and standard things of the such. He completely ignored my questions however.
Like, "what happened?" is such a hard question to fucking answer?
Apparently it was. Both he and nurse Wendy ignored my one simple question. All they would say was that I was in an accident. But the way they said it made it seem like maybe it wasn't an accident at all.
All they would tell me was I had a mild concussion and a sprained wrist.
I had been sitting alone in my hospital room for probably an hour or so, I wasn't sure. I couldn't really see the clock through my blurred vision. No one had come to check on me. My last dose of pain killers were over an hour ago. But the fog in my brain was starting to lift. Finally. The thing around my neck happened to be a neck brace. I tore that off as soon as I could. My neck hurt but it was fine.
I tried to recall the events that led me there but I was having some difficulty. I remembered it was Friday. I left school and went to the square in Port Angeles with Jessica and Lauren to go 'window shopping'. Meaning I may or may not have stolen a few things. It was dark when they dropped me off at home. My parents were out. A gathering of some sort, I think. I got hungry. I went into the kitchen...
My parents... they were fighting when they came home, but that's not unusual.
What happened? I was drawing a blank.
Before I could think on it too much more, the door handle to my room jiggled. I was expecting Dr. Moore or Nurse Wendy. What I wasn't expecting was my mother with a look of murderous rage on her face.
"Isabella Marie Swan, you fucking idiot," she hissed through her teeth, closing the door behind her, her furious eyes never leaving mine.
"Gee, thanks for the concern, Mommy Dearest."
What the hell is her problem?
"Oh, you bet your ass I'm concerned. About me!" She jabbed her finger at herself. I rolled my eyes. Classic Renee. Everything is about her.
"Look, mom," I start but she cuts me off, storming to my side and slapping me upside the head with unbridled strength.
"What the fuck? I have a concussion!" I couldn't believe she would do that. She was a craptastic mom, for sure, but she never hit me before. And I was suddenly wishing I had left that neck brace on.
She took a step back and clasped her hands behind her, as if the impulse to hit me was too strong for her to fight. I scooted back on the hospital bed in case she lost the fight with her composure. My head was fucking throbbing.
"You've really done it this time. You have finally proven to be the disappointment I always expected you to be. Well done, dipshit!" She claps her hands together, a sarcastic smile spreading across her face, her eyes, however, shone with the fiery pits of hell.
Of all the times I had 'disappointed' my parents, embarrassed them, cost them money and connections, I had never seen her like this.
What the actual fuck did I do? I was actually starting to worry.
"I... mom, I really don't remember what happened."
"Oh, yeah. Okay," she laughed, "you're going to play that amnesia card again?"
Okay, so I may have done that once or twice... or six times. I guess I was kind of the boy who cried wolf. The girl who claimed brain damage.
"I'm serious," I muttered looking down at my hands. I was fading under her intense scrutiny. I knew my parents hated me – mostly my mother – but she usually kept up pretenses in a public place.
This was different. I was trying to search my brain for what I could have possibly done that was so awful to entice such a reaction from not only my mother, but the hospital staff as well.
Friday.
School let out.
Port Angeles.
Home. No parents. Ravioli. Parents come home. Fight...
Again, I was drawing a blank. I felt like there was something there, something I knew, but it was like my brain was closing the door on my memory every time it came into reach. Okay. I could play connect the dots. Well, it was Friday night. I go out on Fridays... I mean, I went out pretty much all the time, but Fridays were a total given. And obviously, I must have gone and gotten myself into some kind of trouble. I was sitting on a hospital bed with my mother fuming over me for Christs sake.
Okay... I went out. Probably a party.
Gah! Dammit, why can't I remember?
I dropped my aching head into my hands. "Just tell me what I did and give me my punishment, okay?" I couldn't deal with any more. I was tired and hurting and I just wanted to nap while I could. As soon as I got home my mom would be on my case. Ain't no rest for the wicked.
To my surprise, my mother fell silent. Deadly. I couldn't even hear her heavy breaths anymore. I peaked up at her through my fingers. She was staring at me. Her cold brown eyes giving nothing away. The hard line of her mouth so tense that her full lips nearly disappeared.
A sense of foreboding filled the room, coating its contents like a thick fog.
Finally she leaned it closer to me and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "You made a mistake."