I was inspired to write this story when hearing Miranda Lamberts new song - The House That Built Me. A little back ground, Edwards a vampire, Bella is human. Why they didn't meet in forks is because this story takes place in North Carolina. I'm taking a little of my life and putting it into this story. So this takes place in a small town in NC. This first Chapter is Bella's POV. More Edward back ground in next chapter.
P.S. I don't own twilight I just make the characters into my little puppets.
Chapter 1
BPOV
3 Days
That's how long I have driven by my old house looking for the courage to go knock on the door.
It's pathetic really. Stalkerish is more like it. But I think that only applies to people and I'm not interested in the people who live in my old house. I'm more interested in the memories that house holds.
On the first day, I just sat at the top of the hill next to the mailbox looking at it. They have made some changes to the exterior. The front porch was made larger and into a wrap around. My mom always wanted to build it like that. They even have the big rocking chairs she wanted to put on it. The house was freshly painted tan with dark brown shutters. A far cry from my dad's pick of white with black shutters. Timeless was the words I think he used. It made the house look like a checkered flag from Nascar, but my dad was proud of his choices so we never said anything. The yard looked the same; apparently the new owners don't have the green thumb either.
On Day 2 I realized that I wanted to go inside and see the changed to the inside. Or that's what I told myself. Subconsciously maybe I needed closure are maybe find a part of myself that went missing. This house is safety to me. I grew up here I can feel my parents just sitting here looking at it and I wanted more of that. I just needed to go inside.
After going to the hotel last night and told myself I was being stupid, there's nothing to be afraid of its not like monsters have infested my childhood home. I decided that today I would knock. I went to Bojangles for breakfast, and drove to the house pulling right down the drive without even taking the time to think about it. It was a flashback to 6 years ago, pulling down the drive with the music blaring as only a teenager can. I shook myself out of the memory.
I wondered if the person in the house could hear me pull down the drive like I could as a kid.
Looking at the back yard, I could see my childhood play set and the Dog Pen where my first dog, Lucy, is buried in the back.
Putting on a hoodie and getting out of the car, I walked down the sidewalk. Looking at the house as I went, I noticed all the curtains were pulled except the ones to the dining room. But there was no table and chairs there; in their place was a massive Grand Piano. I stopped and stared at it for a minute. It was beautiful. As I continued down the sidewalk I looked around, the trees had filled out it was hard for anyone to see the house from the road. I should know I sat there for 2 days.
Walking up the porch steps I see flower pots with coordinated flower colors sitting on the porch. A woman's touch. My heart was racing as I reached for the door bell which had been updated since last time I was here. "It chimes just the same." I whispered to myself. I felt tears building behind my eyes and quickly wiped them away.
I can hear someone jogging down the stairs, and then walking down the hall. And the door pulls open. I'm shocked to say the least. I'm expecting a man or woman in their 40's with 2 kids and a dog. But in their stead is a man looking about my age with bronze hair with flecks of red, deep topaz eyes and pale skin. Beautiful.
"Can I help you?" he asks. His voice is the best voice I've ever heard. It shocks me for a second.
"Miss?" he asks again. Then I realize I never said anything and feel so stupid. I was just standing there staring.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Bella" I say blushing. When I look away I see a wooden flower box sitting in the corner. I walk over to it and push. Dang it's really heavy.
"Hey! What are you…?" He starts to say but stops when he sees what I uncover.
I start to tear up seeing three sets of hand prints on the floor. Bright red hand prints on a white wood porch are hard to miss. I kneel down and put my hand over the smallest one.
"They never painted over them." I whisper and a tear lands next to my hand.
So what do you think?
Leave me reviews! I'm going to make this into a story, with Edwards POV of this first chapter next.
Sarah Whitney