Author introduction: This is the first chapter of Stray Italian Greyhound. The title comes from the Vienna Teng song of the same name. Thank you for clicking, and I hope you enjoy it. I actually originally wrote this chapter, as well as what would have been a prologue, set back in December to correspond with the lyrics to Coldplay's Violet Hill. I ended up changing it so that it would be easier to write and have less of a dramatic effect on the plot leading up to the official beginning of the story. As a result, what would have been the prologue will be written into this chapter. Again, thank you for reading. I'm using four songs for this chapter: Violet Hill by Coldplay, Daughter by Vienna Teng, Lost? by Coldplay, and Adagio for Strings Op. 11 by Barber. You don't have to listen to them while you read this, but they are the songs I used while writing, and the lyrics I put into this chapter are from those. One more thing: sorry if this chapter seems boring. I need it for the plot to progress.
Characters: So far, this story will feature Bella, the La Push guys, and Renee as main characters. Yes, Renee has a very important role in this, despite not appearing as much as we'd wish. After all, she does live in Jacksonville, and this story takes place in Forks. Also, I'm sorry if Bella begins to seem a little OOC from the way she appears in the books. She's a dynamic character, after all, and the things she goes through will change her. (A dynamic character is, of course, a character who changes throughout the course of the book.)
Warnings: Cursing, violence, occasionally suggestive themes/situations, extreme dark angst. Also, if you are a fan of Edward, this story doesn't exactly go in his favor. Not at all. Also, this is NOT a Bella/Jacob story, as you will see. Now that I'm done with that, on to the story!
Chapter 1: Slow Heartbeat Monotone
It was a long and dark December
From the rooftops I remember
There was snow, white snow
Clearly I remember
From the rooftops they were watching
While we froze down below...
-From Violet Hill by Coldplay
The exhausted brunette sat up in bed, her body weak from another night of sleepless dreaming. The dreams had kept her up again as the sound of sad, melancholic music drifted through her innermost thoughts. They were black and white, with sad violins playing a sorrowful tune in the outskirts of her mind that kept her wandering in her own mind, lost without any idea of how to escape. Every night, the haunting tunes wore out her mind and her body, and her sleep went with little rest, and in the morning it was as if she had never fallen asleep to begin with; she awoke even more exhausted than she had been the night before her escapades.
With this powerful exhaustion racking her body, she felt compelled to stay in bed and began to notice everything that seemed to be wrong with her. In the back of her mind, a dull thudding she recognized as her heartbeat clicked slowly and constantly, never breaking the constant tempo. The beating controlled every aspect of her movements, giving her weakened body a monotonous tone, which spread from simple movements to the few words that ever escaped her lips.
The brunette considered it a small mercy that she could even hear her heartbeat at all after it seemed to have disappeared altogether when he had disappeared, leaving her life a distraught disarray.
As she went to move, pain shot through her body, causing her to cry out in pain and let her arm sink lifelessly back to the bed, where she lay staring at it because somehow she could move her eyes enough to look. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom and wishing that she could play some sort of music without having to move. She knew, however, that this wouldn't be possible (or practical) and instead settled to get up and move to the bathroom for some Tylenol. As she stretched out her limbs, she groaned in pain again, and felt compelled to call Jacob, knowing however that his father would refuse him visitors. He had mono, after all, and while she could usually trust Billy she found herself not quite believing his story about Jake's condition.
Finally, Bella found herself able to get out of bed and painfully trudged down the hallway to the bathroom, where she threw open the medicine cabinet and retrieved a bottle of painkillers. Taking the prescribed dose with a handful of water, she decided that she probably also needed some food, and was surprisingly hungry compared to what she'd been for the last few months, if not for her entire life.
She made her way downstairs and saw that Charlie had already left for work, despite it being a Wednesday he didn't seem to mind that Bella had decided to skip school, likely due to the fact that she not only looked like shit but sounded like it too, and also probably because Charlie was Charlie and despite not being very verbose he clearly cared about his daughter and didn't want her to overexert herself when she was sick.
Bella pulled out some bacon that she'd bought from the supermarket and fixed it with some eggs, then scarfed the meal down. She found herself thinking of Jacob again, and then the promise she'd made not to cal him again until Saturday. This promise was getting increasingly harder for her to keep even though she now had her own problems to take care of since she had fallen sick as well.
The brunette didn't know what exactly she would do today since she was sick and out of school with no Charlie around to keep busy, so she half-heartedly told herself she'd watch TV. After cleaning up the dishes, she moved over to the couch and sat down, grabbing the remote and turning on the old thing. She scrolled through the channels until she saw something remotely interesting: a soccer game. The announcers had intriguing Cockney accents that made their commentary on the match so much more interesting. Looking to see who was playing, she saw the two names: Liverpool and Manchester United.
By the end of the game, Bella found herself enthralled; the players' movements and the enthusiasm of the fans and the announcers left her breathtakingly waiting for the next goal. Grabbing the remote, she checked what channel the game had come on.
"Fox Soccer," she murmured, her eyes still watching the replay of the close game that had turned out 2-1 in Liverpool's favor. Even after the game ended, Bella was unable to turn off the game; instead, she kept watching the sports announcers talk about soccer-she corrected herself, real football-and teams and players with increased enthusiasm.
At about noon, Bella drew herself away from the television long enough to make a ham sandwich, then resumed sitting in front of the television, listening intently to the sounds of announcers with their accents babble about different players and stats. By three, she'd learned more than she needed to know about the way the sport worked and the basics of the game. At four, a game would be coming on between two South American teams she'd never heard of before and couldn't pronounce, and she planned on using that game as an opportunity to figure out a little bit more about the game itself.
At three thirty, Bella went back into the kitchen and popped a bag of popcorn that she planned to intently eat while watching the game. It was then that she realized that despite her pain, the thudding monotone in the back of her mind seemed to have been growing softer. It was still there, still heartlessly throbbing in the back of her mind, but she seemed to have tuned it out enough. This is so strange, she thought to herself. I've never been a sports person. So what's so cool about this?
Bella proceeded to lose herself in the game, letting her mind focus on something other than the pain that still racked her body and the numb heartbreak that still haunted her. She found herself expressing more emotion through that simple action than she'd expressed since September.
Needless to say, Charlie was shocked to arrive home and find her sitting on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen, watching a game between the United States national team and the Italian national team.
"Yellow card!" Bella said, slamming her fist down on the couch. "Someone should've called that!"
"Soccer?" Charlie raised an eyebrow at his daughter's strange behavior.
The brunette proceeded to look up and nod at her father, her mouth full of Chinese food. "I ordered take-out," she said through a full mouth of friend rice. "Yours is on the table in the kitchen. I didn't want to miss any of the game, so I just took the easy way."
This is so unlike me, Bella found herself thinking again. What is going on? First I'm all hungry, now I'm addicted to a sport I didn't even care about until today. This is weird.
She swallowed her mouthful of fried rice and went back to watching the game with silent enthusiasm, occasionally letting out a cry whenever a player she particularly favored scored a goal or when something bad happened.
All the while, Charlie watched her from the recliner, not daring to change the channel because this was the happiest he'd seen his daughter in months.
"Are you feeling better, Bella?" he asked nervously after the first hour of the game had passed.
"I took some painkillers, Dad," she reassured him. "I'm fine."
After the game ended, Bella stood from her place on the couch and trudged into the kitchen to clean up the mess she'd made. She mentally criticized herself for eating that much and threw away the boxes the take-out had come in, as well as washing out the bowl she'd poured the popcorn into and the plate and frying pan from her breakfast that morning.
The brunette yawned, exhausted; though, from what she did not know because she didn't know it took a lot of effort to sit on the couch and watch soccer all day. Then she reminded herself of the sleepless nights she'd momentarily forgotten about.
"Dad, I'm going to bed," she said with another yawn before making her way up the stairs. Something inside of her hoped that she would finally sleep well. Her entire body still ached, but she didn't have much hope that she could avoid the sound of the tragic violins playing in her ears, seeping through the crevices of her innermost thoughts like Siren songs.
She took another dose of painkillers before she sat down in bed and quickly fell to sleep.
Bella awoke to dim light shining in her window and the sound of rain hitting the window as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The thudding in the back of her mind still pounded dimly and lifelessly, and her motions still followed its rhythm, but her body was not nearly as sore and her mind felt like a cloud had been lifted from it. Suddenly, she realized that she'd actually slept through the night without the dream of melancholic music taking her strength again. She felt somewhat refreshed, albeit still numb and lifeless.
She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, checking the clock on her desk. It was already almost noon. She hoped that she could waste another day like she had the day before and without making such a huge mess.
After deciding that such a thing was impossible, she instead resolved to go to the supermarket and stock up on food. Her stomach insisted that she cook some more bacon first, however, and so she mentally created her schedule for the rest of the day. Breakfast, then grocery store, then home. She didn't quite know what she would do when she got home, but she figured it would have something to do with either dinner or soccer. Either way, she was content with whatever she felt like doing.
Walking downstairs, she fried the rest of the bacon and eggs that she hadn't eaten the day before. She wrote the items down on her list of things to buy when she went to buy groceries, then scarfed down the meal she'd just made.
"I don't care that you're not supposed to fry your eggs in bacon grease," she murmured to herself. "It's so good." The sudden change in her own character seemed to remind her of Jacob, and the thought of her best friend sent pain reeling through her body. She missed him. It was only Thursday, and she would call on Saturday, but she didn't like waiting. It hurt to not be able to talk to your best friend.
She finished the food, making sure to wash the pan and the plate before she grabbed the grocery list and headed out the door. She turned on her iPod, letting Violet Hill by Coldplay flow loudly into her ears as she took the short drive down to the supermarket. She turned off her iPod and cut off the truck, making sure to hold onto the list and the money from Charlie's food money jar as she walked into the store. She ended up leaving the store with a lot more than she'd originally intended, the ideas of different types of food making her curious. She'd make something nice tonight to make up for the take-out her and her father had eaten the night before.
When she pulled back into her driveway, she sighed, the dim rain still beating against her windshield. The rain was beginning to remind her of the sad music that used to haunt her in her dreams. She quickly threw the thoughts out of her mind and, grabbing an umbrella, took the needed trips in order to bring all the groceries into the house.
Her mind kept drifting back to soccer and food, and as she cooked the glorious meal, she found herself eating spoonfuls of the soup and stealing sauce-covered meatballs that didn't make it to the spaghetti. As she put the homemade garlic bread in the oven, she sat down and decided to think a little about how she'd been acting. She realized that it wasn't like her, but at the same time she didn't particularly mind what was going on. She didn't know what could be causing her to act so out of character or why she was always so sore and hungry, but it didn't bother her much. Tomorrow she'd return to school and things would be normal again.
The smell of tomatoes awoke her from her stupor and she quickly resumed fixing the soup. The spaghetti, meatballs, and pasta sauce was already done, and in good time since Charlie would be home at any moment. When she felt that the soup and garlic bread was ready, she turned off the stove and set up the table.
Charlie walked in, put his gun down, and walked into the kitchen, following the smell of Italian food.
"You made this?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Charlie sat down at the table as Bella put a bowl of soup, a plate of spaghetti with two plump meatballs and a mushroom tomato basil sauce, and a piece of garlic bread at his seat. She was careful not to fall on her face while carrying the food, something the brunette considered a very Bella-like thing to do.
The meal itself was somewhat awkward, like usual, with neither Bella nor Charlie ever saying much.
"How was your day, Bella?" he asked after swallowing a large mouthful of spaghetti. "I see you went to the grocery store," he added, noticing the bags that were still on the counter. "You've been eating a lot lately."
Bella went rigid in her seat, thinking for a moment, her mind tracing over the last two days in her mind. She had been eating a lot lately, and the last two days' events had been both uneventful and extraordinarily strange for her, despite the continuous thudding in the back of her mind that she tried so hard to ignore. Yet, even as she had sat watching the soccer game, the sound of her heartbeat monotonously pounded on, bothering her to no end as much as she let herself become enthralled in the sport.
The thoughts swirled through her unbalanced mind and upset the balance at the core of her being, shooting pain through her slim body and causing her to drop her spoon and let out a painful cry.
Charlie was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet and wrapping his arms around her as she curled tightly into a ball and took in deep breaths, attempting to sooth the pain. She only continued to moan as the waves of pain shot through her.
Before she even realized it, Charlie had helped her to her room and the brunette fell unconscious into her bed, her heart weakened from the pain of her current state. The last thing she heard before her mind slipped away for the night was the melancholic, sorrowful song of haunted violins and a slow heartbeat monotone.
Just because I'm hurting
Doesn't mean I'm hurt
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve
No better and no worse
I just got lost
Every river that I've tried to cross
And every door I ever tried was locked
And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off...
-from Lost? by Coldplay