Lacuna
(chapter one)
1. an unfilled space or interval; a gap.
2. a missing portion in a book or manuscript.
ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin, 'pool,' from lacus 'lake.'
(( This is, by the way, an AU- I ought to warn you all. It's set during the four-month period of time in New Moon when Edward and Bella are apart, just before where she starts to socialise with Jacob Black- frankly, where I liked her best. Not that I like seeing Bella suffer or something, or her and Edward torn asunder, but some of the later-book stuff seriously bugged me. They're so much more… enjoyable when they're pining for one another. No?
Sorry for making Bella more than a touch... uhm, emo, but I felt like a more realistic portrayal of what her depression was like, even if most fan writers neatly gloss over it in favour of getting the two of them back together, or pairing her up with Jacob. Don't like it? Flames will be used to fuel our bonfire in the yard, as I run around singing strange songs and dancing the tango, by the light of the northern lights.
Please- if you like this, review and tell me so. If you hate it, review me and tell me so. If you want Edward to swoop in and tackle Bella like a high school quarterback… write in and tell me so. Though this explores some of the more feral vampires in the area, none of them are about to… shall we say, woo her.
On with the show! ))
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Forks isn't where I'd like to be right now, but I can handle it. Since I've begun to leave my room for things other than hot meals and my recommended allowance of vitamin D each day, the initial numbness has softened slightly, even if it's no less present- but walking around town, it feels like I'm retracing my steps.
I'm not caught up over him, really. I'm not. It's unhealthy. But sometimes, when I realise where I am on my way home, after one of those walks I take without worrying too much about directions or planning my path, I remember what it was like. Not Edward, per se, but when I was still caught up with him, and transfixed- those early school days where fixation on a stranger was still totally acceptable, and I could make believe he was avoiding me out of disgust- or disinterest, rather than for my own good. I'm a liability. That's my problem. My time with the Cullens was brief, desperately so- and I dug myself in too deep. But the hardest part is admitting nothing's changed- the sidewalks are the same, the same sky. It's something out of a horror movie- the thought that you'd just disappear some day, and the world would close back in to fill the gap, like water in a glass. It's my idea of hell.
I always thought the heroines in those movies were so stupid, so thoughtless- raging on about how their loved ones weren't dead, just missing, and why didn't anyone else notice, and getting themselves locked away for being crazy. The Bella Swan plan for surviving in a nightmare was always to keep calm- even when that's the last thing I'd actually be capable of under stress, as these past months proved to me outright. Be brave, and state your case. But the thing is, other people noticed too- they just didn't care. I've been sleeping too much lately. Too much or not enough. Wonder what my problem is. I got out a calculator from the bottom of my school bag the other day, tallied up how many days it's been, how many hours, minutes, seconds...
If he'd just given in and made me like he is, I bet this would feel like a blink of an eye. Maybe that's my problem. Mortality just isn't fast enough.
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I'm not big on the idea of suicide, don't get me wrong- and besides, I like living. It's better than nothing, and I'm certain heaven doesn't take kindly over weak, self-pitying teenage girls. And it's not death I want- it's Edward. So maybe I'm just being irresponsible. I'd rather be in the hospital or inhuman, one of them, and stand a chance of calling him back than the zombie I already am. It didn't take Charlie's threats to wake me up this time. Maybe living dangerously- as Edward would probably say, why did I have to think of him just now?- would do the job just fine.
I'm not thinking correctly. I could probably use having my head examined right now, too. And if- by some universe-shattering chance- one of the Cullens runs in to save me, I won't exactly protest. It was just a day trip- shopping with the girls. I neglected to tell Charlie that the girls might not be coming. I started out with the car at a normal hour- in the mid-afternoon, promising to keep my phone on me and to be back before dark. I hardly intended to- my phone was off, and at the bottom of my bag. My only intent was to be gone.
The main drag of Forks was gone in the blink of an eye. Despite myself I had to keep willing myself to focus on the road. A few people in town greeted me as I passed, lackluster waves and smiles, and I could answer back in kind- a big smile on my face, so broad it strained and felt too tight for my skin. Despite that, I dressed as if I were on my way to a funeral- I'd attended enough of those to have the outfit pre-selected- nice clothes. Nice enough that I felt like I was going to fall over myself- I don't dress up. Still, I hoped I looked appealing. Maybe I could hitch a ride- that was supposed to be thrilling, albeit in the wrong way for a girl just pushing 18. Or sneak into a bar and get drunk. The truck was hardly unnoticeable, iconic in fact, and I wanted to exchange it for something else as soon as possible.
Sensible shoes though. I was going to have to walk a long way, or so I initially expected. Ditch this car once I got out of town, make it look like I'd... well, disappeared. Gotten into an accident, maybe? All I wanted was gone. I'd intended to find a taxi to take me to the city, but I only realised after I'd left the house that they don't just hang around in a town like Forks waiting for customers like they might in New York- you have to order them by phone. So perhaps I could rent a car, or take a bus... find some place with a phone book, even- but I daren't ask. Failing that, maybe I could find a lake and jump in it- yeah, right. But after a while of driving carefully on the very outskirts of Forks, watching my gas mileage and listening to the thrum of the motor and praying I didn't get pulled over by some fluke of law enforcement- I started to like driving, a little too much. My mental state was nearly blank, just me and the road and the first direction I could find- the trees pushing by in a blur I barely registered, the sky a flat slate of grey overhead like a 2-ton lead weight just waiting to fall. I could have driven for hours.
No one even noticed. It haunted me. No one.
No radio. Of course not. No hassle. For a while, the pain ebbed
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There's a word for my condition- not something overwrought and pretty, like 'heartbreak', but crisp and clinical. Anomie. I drove for what felt like hours, until I was quite well and truly lost, until I actually could forget about Edward entirely, and just revel in the scenery. My blood actually felt like it was warm again, not just water in my veins- if I couldn't quite feel, well, this was close enough. Forks had vanished far behind me by the time I needed to refill for gas- paid in hard-saved cash, and off I went again, without a hitch.I must have been over state lines, even. It might have been hours, before I thought it.
Bella, you're a fugitive.
Of course not. From what? I wasn't running- I was seeking. Either the Cullens somehow or some other vampire- someone kind enough to share their gift, or failing that, put me out of my misery. This wasn't planned as some kind of cheap, adolescent stunt like 'running away' implied- this wasn't planned at all. So what on earth was I doing?
I pulled over for a moment off the grubby country road I was on, seeing no cars coming, and stumbled out of the truck with my bag in hand. My cell phone- a gift from Mom, years old and discovered at the bottom of one of my packing boxes, an attempt at getting me a normal social life- was still turned off, but showing only half battery- and displaying a small number of phone messages. I couldn't bring myself to listen. It was only then, standing in the knee-high grass and the mud where the asphalt turned back into dirt, that I was aware of being tired. True to what my watch read- 8:00- the sky was just starting to dim, turning from slate to a dirty smear of grey.
Stepping away from the truck- which was making sounds of extreme discontent about being forced to idle-, I took a look around- to stretch my legs and try to figure out exactly where I was. The scrub was thick, and I felt it scratch me on the backs of my legs- I had chosen to wear a skirt for some reason, certainly not fashion, and it felt disgusting. I'm not proud of being squeamish about ticks, but I am. There was a thin selection of trees on either side of the smallish paved road, and not even a road sign for what looked like miles and miles- not another driver, either. I could hear something like an animal in the grass, and the sickly sounds of the motor still running, but little else. Though all my senses were unnaturally heightened- whether it was by sudden panic or something else, I could see everything in vivid colour, I could even smell my shampoo from earlier that morning- all it did was make me uneasy.
I had to have a road map, or something.
Turning the key and attempting to shift it out of how it'd been idling, the truck downright REFUSED to work.
I couldn't do this any more.
This was safe enough, as stretches of highway go, and though the pickup truck was a piece of crap it seemed like it could hold up to anything short of a tank. Remember how I mentioned I'd been sleeping too much? It was about time. Actually, by this time, I'd normally be locked in my room- or still washing up after dinner.
I climbed back in the cab of the truck, making sure I was properly parked before shutting off the engine. Clambering over to the passenger seat, I pulled the battered blanket out that I'd brought with and wadded it into something like a pillow, hoping it would serve just as well. Still feeling cold- bone-breakingly numb, my thin jacket didn't do much good- I lay there for a while curled up in the worn seats, crushing my eyelids shut and willing the light that was still in the sky to be done with so I could finally sleep. It must have been half an hour of tossing and turning in agony before opening my eyes again-
I heard a noise, a hollow tap on the body of the truck, like someone trying to get my attention. My hand dove for my cell phone, even as I attempted to adjust my eyes to the dark, even if it meant rolling the window down. What if it was a cop? Or a tow truck?
Whatever it was, it had to be gone...
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Digging back into my uncomfortable impromptu nest, I'd just begun to get back to where I was before when the tapping came again. I didn't bother going for my phone, but looked up- Straight into a pair of chill, black eyes. Sickeningly familiar. My stomach tightened like a fist.
In the split second I registered this, with the glass the only thing between me and terror- I registered that this was someone else, a vastly different face. Not one of the Cullens- it was a man, young and pale as a lily with hair cropped razor-short. He rapped again with his knuckles on the window, looking perturbed. Great to wake up to, then.
In blind surprise, I groped to roll down the window- just a crack.
'Oh- um, hi. Is there a problem?'
He smiled winningly, displaying a mouthful of movie-star teeth that managed to be anything but assuring. Charisma hit me like a tidal wave, almost sickeningly persuasive even when he hadn't yet spoken a word.
It had been so long since I first met Edward, I forgot how charming they could be. Nevertheless, now that I knew what it was, my subconscious was screaming for me to get the hell out of there, to drive, to do something… He had to be- but he couldn't. There weren't any others out here, were there? Not like him. The local vampires were monsters like James had been-
I was instantly on my guard, scrabbling for my phone, and yet not finding it.
'You're not lost, are you? Miss Swan?'
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(( Hope you liked it. Again- you've already read, so review. It's my first time writing for this fandom, but I couldn't resist.
I can't exactly mimic the author's style beyond use of the first person- my first person writing tends to be for horror scenes rather than anything this demure. Any plot suggestions will be taken with glee.
Just like everyone else on here says... REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW. Or else. And before you hit that back button- review. Or I shall cry bitter tears, and, er, kick this puppy. ))