New Moon
Re-write/fan fiction
by: Bella_Rose94
***No copyright infringement intended. TWILIGHT IS NOT MINE, sadly... All Rights belong to Stephanie Meyer!***
Isabella
OCTOBER
NOVEMBER
DECEMBER
JANUARY
Chapter 1: Waking Up
Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the clock aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.
Charlie's fist came down on the table. "That's it, Bella! I'm sending you to you home."
I looked up drom my cereal, which I was pondering rather then eating, and stared at Charlie in shock. I hadn't been following the conversation- actually I wasn't even aware we were having a conversation- and I wasn't sure what he meant.
"I am home," I mummbled, confused.
"I'm sending you to Renee, to Jacksonville," He clarified.
Charlie watched with exasperation as I slowly grasped the meaning of his words.
"What did I do?" I felt my face crumple. It was so unfair. My behavior had been above reproach for the past four months. After that first week, which neither of us eve mentioned, I hadn't missed a day of school or work. My grades were perfect. I never broke curfew- I never went anywhere from which to break curfewin the first place. I only very rarely served leftovers.
Charlie was scowling at me.
"You didn't do anything. That's the problem. You never do anything." He threw his arms up.
"What? You mean... you want me to get in trouble?" I wondered aloud, my eyebrows pulling together in mystification. I made an effort to pay attention. It wasn't easy. I was so used to tunneling everything out, my ears felt stopped up.
"Trouble would be better than this... this moping around all the time!" Charlie exclaimed.
That stung a bit. I'd been careful to avoid all forms of moroseness, moping included.
"I am not moping around." I argued diligently.
"Wrong word," he gridgingly conceded. "Moping would be better- that would be doing something. You're just... lifeless, Bella. I think that's the word I want."
This accusation was a definite hit beow the belt. I sighed and tried to put some animation into my response.
"I'm sorry, dad." My apology sounded flat, even to my ears. I'd thought I'd been fooling him. Keeping Charlie from suffering was the whole point of all my effort. How depressing to think that the effort had been wasted.
"I don't want you to apologize."
I sighed. "Then tell me what you do want me to do."
"Bella," he hesitated, scrutinizing my reaction to his next words. "Honey, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."
"I know that." My accompanying grimace was limp and unimpressive.
"Listen, honey. I think that-that maybe you need some help."
"Help?" I questioned.
He paused, searching for the next words, "When your mother left," he began, frowning, "and took you with her." He inhaled deeply, his eyes turning glassy. "Well, that was a really bad time for me."
"I know, dad," I mumbled, for the first time feeling a burst of hatered at my mother. She'd hurt my dad the way Edward had hurt me, but I don't know what would have happened if I'd had a kid and Edward took it away with him... How had Charlie gotten over it?
"But I handled it," he pointed out. "Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better." He stared at me and I looked down quickly. "I think we both know it's not getting better."
"I'm fine." I lied.
He ignored me. "Maybe, well, maybe if you talked to someone about it. A professional?"
"You want me to see a shrink?" My voice was a shade sharper as I realized what he was getting at.
"Maybe it would help."
"And maybe it wouldn't help at all." I snapped viciously.
I didn't know much about a psychoanalysis, but I was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatlively honest. Sure, I could tell the truth- if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a padded cell.
He examined my obstinate expression, and switched to another line of attack.
"It's beyond me, Bella. Maybe your mother-"
"Look," I said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight, if you want. I'll call Jess or Angela."
"That's not what I want," he argued, frusturated. "I don't think I can live through seeing you try harder. I've never seen anyone trying so hard. It hurts to watch."
I pretended to be dense, looking down at the table. "I don't understand, Dad. First you're mad because I'm don't do anything, and then you don't want me to go out."
"I want you to be happy- no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."
My eyes flashed up with the first small spark of actual feeling I'd had in too long to contemplate.
"I'm not leaving," I said.
"Why not?" he demanded.
"I'm in my last semester of school- it would screw everything up."
''You're a good student- you'll figure it out."
"I don't want to crowd mom and Phil."
"Your mother's been dying to have you back."
''Florida is... too hot."
His fist came down on the table again. "We both know what's really going on here, Bella, and it's not good for you." He took a deep breath. "It's been months. No calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."
I glowered at him. The heat almost, but not quite, reached my face. It had been a long time since I'd blushed with any emotion.
This whole subject was utterly forbidden, as he was well aware.
"I'm not waiting for anything. I don't expect anything," I said in a low monotone.
"Bella—," Charlie began, his voice thick.
"I have to get to school," I interrupted, standing up and yanking my untouched
breakfast from the table. I dumped my bowl in the sink without pausing to wash
it out. I couldn't deal with any more conversation. Not right now.
"I'll make plans with Jessica," I called over my shoulder as I strapped on my
school bag, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe I won't be home for dinner. We'll go to
Port Angeles and watch a movie."
I was out the front door before he could react.
In my haste to get away from Charlie, I ended up being one of the first ones to
school. The plus side was that I got a really good parking spot. The downside was
that I had free time on my hands, and I tried to avoid free time at all costs.
Quickly, before I could start thinking about Charlie's accusations, I pulled out my
Calculus book. I flipped it open to the section we should be starting today, and
tried to make sense of it. Reading math was even worse than listening to it, but I
was getting better at it. In the last several months, I'd spent ten times the amount
of time on Calculus than I'd ever spent on math before. As a result, I was
managing to keep in the range of a low A. I knew Mr. Varner felt my
improvement was all due to his superior teaching methods. And if that made him
happy, I wasn't going to burst his bubble.
I forced myself to keep at it until the parking lot was full, and I ended up rushing
to English. We were working on Animal Farm, an easy subject matter. I didn't
mind communism; it was a welcome change from the exhausting romances that
made up most of the curriculum. I settled into my seat, pleased by the distraction
of Mr. Berty's lecture.
Time moved easily while I was in school. The bell rang all too soon. I started
repacking my bag.
"Bella?"
I recognized Mike's voice, and I knew what his next words would be before he
said them.
"Are you working tomorrow?"
I looked up. He was leaning across the aisle with an anxious expression. Every
Friday he asked me the same question. Never mind that I hadn't taken so much as
a sick day. Well, with one exception, months ago. But he had no reason to look at
me with such concern. I was a model employee.
"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" I said. Having just had it pointed out to me by
Charlie, I realized how lifeless my voice really sounded.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "See you in Spanish." He waved once before turning his
back. He didn't bother walking me to class anymore.
I trudged off to Calculus with a grim expression. This was the class where I sat
next to Jessica.
It had been weeks, maybe months, since Jess had even greeted me when I passed
her in the hall. I knew I had offended her with my antisocial behavior, and she
was sulking. It wasn't going to be easy to talk to her now—especially to ask her
to do me a favor. I weighed my options carefully as I loitered outside the
classroom, procrastinating.
I wasn't about to face Charlie again without some kind of social interaction to
report. I knew I couldn't lie, though the thought of driving to Port Angeles and
back alone—being sure my odometer reflected the correct mileage, just in case he
checked—was very tempting. Jessica's mom was the biggest gossip in town, and
Charlie was bound to run into Mrs. Stanley sooner rather than later. When he did,
he would no doubt mention the trip. Lying was out. With a sigh, I shoved the door open.
Mr. Varner gave me a dark look—he'd already started the lecture. I hurried to my
seat. Jessica didn't look up as I sat next to her. I was glad that I had fifty minutes
to mentally prepare myself.
This class flew by even faster than English. A small part of that speed was due to
my goody-goody preparation this morning in the truck—but mostly it stemmed
from the fact that time always sped up when I was looking forward to something
unpleasant.
I grimaced when Mr. Varner dismissed the class five minutes early. He smiled
like he was being nice.
"Jess?" My nose wrinkled as I cringed, waiting for her to turn on me.
She twisted in her seat to face me, eyeing me incredulously. "Are you talking to
me, Bella?"
"Of course." I widened my eyes to suggest innocence.
"What? Do you need help with Calculus?" Her tone was a tad sour.
"No." I shook my head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you would… go to the
movies with me tonight? I really need a girls' night out." The words sounded stiff,
like badly delivered lines, and she looked suspicious.
"Why are you asking me?" she asked, still unfriendly.
"You're the first person I think of when I want girl time." I smiled, and I hoped
the smile looked genuine. It was probably true. She was at least the first person I
thought of when I wanted to avoid Charlie. It amounted to the same thing.
She seemed a little mollified. "Well, I don't know."
"Do you have plans?"
"No… I guess I can go with you. What do you want to see?"
"I'm not sure what's playing," I hedged. This was the tricky part. I racked my
brain for a clue—hadn't I heard someone talk about a movie recently? Seen a
poster? "How about that one with the female president?"
She looked at me oddly. "Bella, that one's been out of the theater forever."
"Oh." I frowned. "Is there anything you'd like to see?"
Jessica's natural bubbliness started to leak out in spite of herself as she thought
out loud. "Well, there's that new romantic comedy that's getting great reviews. I
want to see that one. And my dad just saw Dead End and he really liked it."
I grasped at the promising title. "What's that one about?"
"Zombies or something. He said it was the scariest thing he'd seen in years."
"That sounds perfect." I'd rather deal with real zombies than watch a romance.
"Okay." She seemed surprised by my response. I tried to remember if I liked
scary movies, but I wasn't sure. "Do you want me to pick you up after school?"
she offered.
"Sure."
Jessica smiled at me with tentative friendliness before she left. My answering
smile was just a little late, but I thought that she saw it.
The rest of the day passed quickly, my thoughts focused on planning for tonight.
I knew from experience that once I got Jessica talking, I would be able to get
away with a few mumbled responses at the appropriate moments. Only minimal
interaction would be required.
The thick haze that blurred my days now was sometimes confusing. I was
surprised when I found myself in my room, not clearly remembering the drive
home from school or even opening the front door. But that didn't matter. Losing
track of time was the most I asked from life.
I didn't fight the haze as I turned to my closet. The numbness was more essential
in some places than in others. I barely registered what I was looking at as I slid
the door aside to reveal the pile of rubbish on the left side of my closet, under the
clothes I never wore.
My eyes did not stray toward the black garbage bag that held my present from
that last birthday, did not see the shape of the stereo where it strained against the
black plastic; I didn't think of the bloody mess my nails had been when I'd
finished clawing it out of the dashboard.
I yanked the old purse I rarely used off the nail it hung from, and shoved the door
shut.
Just then I heard a horn honking. I swiftly traded my wallet from my schoolbag
into the purse. I was in a hurry, as if rushing would somehow make the night pass
more quickly.
I glanced at myself in the hall mirror before I opened the door, arranging my
features carefully into a smile and trying to hold them there.
"Thanks for coming with me tonight," I told Jess as I climbed into the passenger
seat, trying to infuse my tone with gratitude. It had been a while since I'd really
thought about what I was saying to anyone besides Charlie. Jess was harder. I
wasn't sure which were the right emotions to fake.
"Sure. So, what brought this on?" Jess wondered as she drove down my street.
"Brought what on?"
"Why did you suddenly decide… to go out?" It sounded like she changed her
question halfway through.
I shrugged. "Just needed a change."
I recognized the song on the radio then, and quickly reached for the dial. "Do you
mind?" I asked.
"No, go ahead."
I scanned through the stations until I found one that was harmless. I peeked at
Jess's expression as the new music filled the car.
Her eyes squinted. "Since when do you listen to rap?"
"I don't know," I said. "A while."
"You like this?" she asked doubtfully.
"Sure."
It would be much too hard to interact with Jessica normally if I had to work to
tune out the music, too. I nodded my head, hoping I was in time with the beat.
"Okay…" She stared out the windshield with wide eyes.
"So what's up with you and Mike these days?" I asked quickly.
"You see him more than I do."
The question hadn't started her talking like I'd hoped it would.
"It's hard to talk at work," I mumbled, and then I tried again. "Have you been out
with anyone lately?"
"Not really. I go out with Conner sometimes. I went out with Eric two weeks
ago." She rolled her eyes, and I sensed a long story. I clutched at the opportunity.
"Eric Yorkie? Who asked who?"
She groaned, getting more animated. "He did, of course! I couldn't think of a nice
way to say no."
"Where did he take you?" I demanded, knowing she would interpret my
eagerness as interest. "Tell me all about it."
She launched into her tale, and I settled into my seat, more comfortable now. I
paid strict attention, murmuring in sympathy and gasping in horror as called for.
When she was finished with her Eric story, she continued into a Conner
comparison without any prodding.
The movie was playing early, so Jess thought we should hit the twilight showing
and eat later. I was happy to go along with whatever she wanted; after all, I was
getting what I wanted—Charlie off my back.
I kept Jess talking through the previews, so I could ignore them more easily. But I
got nervous when the movie started. A young couple was walking along a beach,
swinging hands and discussing their mutual affection with gooey falseness. I
resisted the urge to cover my ears and start humming. I had not bargained for a
romance.
"I thought we picked the zombie movie," I hissed to Jessica.
"This is the zombie movie."
"Then why isn't anyone getting eaten?" I asked desperately.
She looked at me with wide eyes that were almost alarmed. "I'm sure that part's
coming," she whispered.
"I'm getting popcorn. Do you want any?"
"No, thanks."
Someone shushed us from behind.
I took my time at the concession counter, watching the clock and debating what
percentage of a ninety-minute movie could be spent on romantic exposition. I
decided ten minutes was more than enough, but I paused just inside the theater
doors to be sure. I could hear horrified screams blaring from the speakers, so I
knew I'd waited long enough.
"You missed everything," Jess murmured when I slid back into my seat. "Almost
everyone is a zombie now."
"Long line." I offered her some popcorn. She took a handful.
The rest of the movie was comprised of gruesome zombie attacks and endless
screaming from the handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly.
I would have thought there was nothing in that to disturb me. But I felt uneasy,
and I wasn't sure why at first.
It wasn't until almost the very end, as I watched a haggard zombie shambling
after the last shrieking survivor, that I realized what the problem was. The scene
kept cutting between the horrified face of the heroine, and the dead, emotionless
face of her pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance.
And I realized which one resembled me the most.
I stood up.
"Where are you going? There's, like, two minutes left," Jess hissed.
"I need a drink," I muttered as I raced for the exit.
I sat down on the bench outside the theater door and tried very hard not to think
of the irony. But it was ironic, all things considered, that, in the end, I would
wind up as a zombie. I hadn't seen that one coming.
Not that I hadn't dreamed of becoming a mythical monster once—just never a
grotesque, animated corpse. I shook my head to dislodge that train of thought,
feeling panicky. I couldn't afford to think about what I'd once dreamed of.
It was depressing to realize that I wasn't the heroine anymore, that my story was
over.
Jessica came out of the theater doors and hesitated, probably wondering where
the best place was to search for me. When she saw me, she looked relieved, but
only for a moment. Then she looked irritated.
"Was the movie too scary for you?" she wondered.
"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess I'm just a coward."
"That's funny." She frowned. "I didn't think you were scared—I was screaming
all the time, but I didn't hear you scream once. So I didn't know why you left."
I shrugged. "Just scared."
She relaxed a little. "That was the scariest movie I think I've ever seen. I'll bet
we're going to have nightmares tonight."
"No doubt about that," I said, trying to keep my voice normal. It was inevitable
that I would have nightmares, but they wouldn't be about zombies. Her eyes
flashed to my face and away. Maybe I hadn't succeeded with the normal voice.
"Where do you want to eat?" Jess asked.
"I don't care."
"Okay."
Jess started talking about the male lead in the movie as we walked. I nodded as
she gushed over his hotness, unable to remember seeing a non-zombie man at all.
I didn't watch where Jessica was leading me. I was only vaguely aware that it was
dark and quieter now. It took me longer than it should have to realize why it was
quiet. Jessica had stopped babbling. I looked at her apologetically, hoping I hadn't
hurt her feelings.
Jessica wasn't looking at me. Her face was tense; she stared straight ahead and
walked fast. As I watched, her eyes darted quickly to the right, across the road,
and back again.
I glanced around myself for the first time.
We were on a short stretch of unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the street
were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the
streetlights started up again, and I could see, farther down, the quant little diner with lanterns hanging from the corner of the building, supposed to be resembling a chineese setting that she was heading for.
We went inside and ate, whille Jessica talked most of the time. I nodded and smiled appropriately. When the waitress brought the checks we paid for our own and Jessica took a fortune cookie off the tray. Without thinking I followed suit. Jess broke hers open and read her fortune aloud.
"The greatest danger could be your stupidity." She read aloud and raised her eyebrows, I couldn't help the smirk that formed my lips as I looked down at my own fortune.
"Well, what does yours say?" She asked leaning forward, noticing the smirk I fought to keep off my face.
"Umm, 'Love knows not what time is because time has no meaning when you're in love.'" I read.
"Ugh, why couldn't I get that one." Jess huffed, and grabbed her purse while standing up, "Ready?"
"Uh, yeah." I answered stuffing the strip of paper into my purse and following her out.
When we go back in the car, she tuned the stereo back to her favorite station and
turned the volume too loud to allow easy conversation.
I didn't have to struggle as hard as usual to ignore the music. Even though my
mind, for once, was not carefully numb and empty, I had too much to think about
to hear the lyrics.
I thought of the fortune as I waited for the numbness to return, or the pain. Because the pain must be coming. Tonight was going to cost me, I was sure of it. Especially if I couldn't reclaim the haze to protect myself. I felt too alert, and that frightened me.
But relief was still the strongest emotion in my body—relief that came from the
very core of my being. The Fortune seemed to put me at ease, for some unknown reason.
As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worried
—late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my
defenses—that it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would
someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his
cool skin on mine, or the texture of his voice while he spoke to me. I could not think of them, but I must remember them.
Because there was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to live—I had to
know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he
existed.
That's why I was more trapped in Forks than I ever had been before, why I'd
fought with Charlie when he'd suggested a change. Honestly, it shouldn't matter; no
one was ever coming back here. Not for me. And they didn't want me to find them- so I knew I never would.
But if I were to go to Jacksonville, or anywhere else bright and unfamiliar, how
could I be sure he was real? In a place where I could never imagine him, the
conviction might fade… and that I could not live through.
Forbidden to remember, too terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.
I was surprised when Jessica stopped the car in front of my house. The ride had
not taken long, but, short as it seemed, I wouldn't have thought that Jessica could
go that long without speaking.
"Thanks for going out with me, Jess," I said as I opened my door. "That was…
fun." I hoped that fun was the appropriate word.
"Sure," she muttered.
"I'm sorry about..." I didn't really know why she was upset with me.
"Whatever, Bella." She glared out the windshield instead of looking at me. She
seemed to be growing angrier rather than getting over it.
"See you Monday?" I offered.
"Yeah. Bye."
I gave up and shut the door. She drove away, still without looking at me.
I'd forgotten her by the time I was inside.
Charlie was waiting for me in the middle of the hall, his arms folded tight over
his chest with his hands balled into fists.
"Hey, Dad," I said absentmindedly as I ducked around Charlie, heading for the
stairs. I'd been thinking about him for too long, and I wanted to be upstairs before
it caught up with me.
"Where have you been?" Charlie demanded.
I looked at my dad, surprised. "I went to see a movie and have dinner at this chineese place in Port Angeles with Jessica. Like I told you this morning."
"Humph," he grunted.
"Is that okay?"
He studied my face, his eyes widening as if he saw something unexpected.
"Yeah, that's fine. Did you have fun?"
"Sure," I said. "We watched zombies eat people. It was great."
His eyes narrowed.
"'Night, Dad. See you in the morning." He let me pass. I hurried to my room.
Before I hung up my purse I took out my wallet and the fortune. I laid in bed re-reading the Fortune; 'Love knows not what time is because time has no meaning when you're in love.'"
What did it mean? Flipping it over the numbers suddenly stood out at me;19, 17, 06, 20, 19, 18.
I sprung up and grabbed the pad of paper and pencil on my desk. 19, 17- 1917. 06- June, 20- 20th, 19, 18- 1918. How was that possible? The date of Edwards Birthday and the last two years of his human life...
What did it mean? Was this some kind of prank? I threw the notebook off the bed and held my head in my hands.
I began to suspect that I was having some kind of hallucination. Triggered, no
doubt, by the memory— the strangeness of this situation.
I ran through the possibilities quickly in my head.
Option one: I was paranoid. That was the layman's term for people who thought something was out to get them. Right?
Possible.
Option two: My subconscious mind was giving me what it thought I wanted. This
was wish fulfillment—a momentary relief from pain by embracing the incorrect
idea that he was still-somehow- a part of my life. Even if only in this little piece of paper.
A) the hope I suddenly felt that he may come back, for some reason and
B) he would be here with me by his birthday?
Probable.
I could see no option three, so I hoped it was the second option and this was just
my subconscious running amuck, rather than something I would need to be
medicated for.
My reaction was hardly sane, though—I was grateful. The hope was something I'd feared I was losing, and so, more than anything else, I felt overwhelming gratitude that my unconscious mind had held onto that better than my conscious one had.
I was not allowed to think of him. That was something I tried to be very strict
about. Of course I slipped; I was, still, only human. But I was getting better, and so the
pain was something I could avoid for days at a time now. The trade off was the
never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, I'd chosen nothing.
I waited for the pain now. I was not numb—my senses felt unusually intense after
so many months of the haze—but the normal pain held off. The only ache was
the disappointment that this hope inside me was fading.
I lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made its
appearance.
It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through
my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes
around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time.
Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head
spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must have been beating, too,
but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with
cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for
my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me.
And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt the pain—the aching loss that
radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs
and head—but it was manageable. I could live through it. It didn't feel like the
pain had weakened over time, rather that I'd grown strong enough to bear it.
Whatever it was that had happened tonight—and whether it was the zombies, or the hallucination that was responsible—it had woken me up.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to expect in the morning.