[A/N: First off, if you have read and/or reviewed my stories, thank you so, so, so very much. I mean it. So, yeah. I have a story for y'all.)
How can you lament for something that you never truly had, that was never yours to lose? Still, how can you mourn for the end of a dream so far beyond any of your expectations?
Isabella Marie Swan's life was, well, boring.
Yes, her parents were divorced, but, come on, isn't fifty percent of all married couples as well?
No siblings. Not rich folks.
The only non-plain thing about Isabella was her name. Which she absolutely resented. (Bella, she muttered, her voice shrill,every time someone made the mistake of calling her Isabella.)
Brown hair. Brown eyes. Plain Jane.
Bella Marie Swan knew it was wrong when she decided to exile herself to Forks - and to its gloomy, omnipresent shade - and she knew she would regret it eventually. She almost did.
However, things changed.
The strange boy with the copper hair and the pale skin and the ever-changing eye color changed things.
Coal black. Topaz. Bright gold.
Bella Swan knew what she was getting herself into when she fell in love with the strange boy with the copper hair and the pale skin and the ever-changing eye color that drank blood - or so she thought.
He was too good, too perfect for her. She was Plain Jane after all.
Bella was too smart and she knew when she was being an idiot. She was being an idiot.
She never cared to give a shit, though. She'd be a sucker to regret for her choices, foolish as they were.
Cold ones. Vampires. Vampires. Blood-thirsty fucking vampires.
She couldn't even be safe in a real, normal world; how the hell was she supposed to carry through a world with goddamn vampires that desired her own blood?
Watch her not give a fuck.
Bella Swan's entire being was grieving when the strange boy with the copper hair and the pale skin and the - oh, forget it - left her.
A hole developed in her chest and, much like a cancer, it grew with the weight of her despair.
How much could she mean to him if he left her here unprotected?
The indescribable pain that cut her to the core was a sign, though. A sign that it - everything - hadn't been a lie. A sign that there was something she had the right to grieve for.
I can't even tell if you're alive, Bells. She laughs bitterly and Charlie thinks she might be crazy after all. She thinks she might be crazy after all.
Bella Swan is broken and that's it.
However, things change.
Sun. Warmth. Jacob. Her Jacob. That changes things.
[A/N: I don't even... Gotta love the strange boy with the copper hair and the pale skin and the ever-changing eye color, though.]