Authors Note: First off, this is my first fanfiction. So don't bitch me out about how much this sucks, because this whole writing business is serious shit. It took me an hour just to figure out how to an upload a fucking story. AND AS YOU'VE PROBABLY NOTICED, I have a habit of swearing. So there's a lot of that. And a lot of pussy. (=

WHATS THIS STORY ABOUT?! Honestly, I'm not entirely sure yet. I watched Saved! last night, and I couldn't help but think, damn, that cassandra is the fucking shit, and i definitely wouldn't mind having hilary faye perform an exorcism on me. SO OUT CAME THIS STORY! Bella Swan is fucking Cassandra. All the rest of the Forks bitches are Hilary fucking Fayes. And Edward Cullen is the preachers son. NOW, I haven't decided yet if he's going to be this badass, leather jacket, motorcycle riding rebellious teen or some kackey wearing bible thumper. Or neither. Or both. I JUST DON'T KNOW YET, but we'll all find out next chapter! Also, Forks, Washington is an old money town filled with a bunch of country club on Saturday and church on Sunday hypocritical bitches. Bella's dad owns the town, basically - his ancestors founded it, and just like all old money, the town was passed down generation to generation. Kept in the family. And there's other important shit, I'm sure, but I just can't think of it now. So read!

And oh, I don't own shit. (=

BELLA POV

"-the fuck is this shit? You trying to poison me, Swan?"

Surprisingly, today had started out as a very good day. The sun was shining bright and my hair was completely frizz free, both fucking rarities all in themselves. And, on top of all that, my guitar instructor finally gave into my seductive ways and fucked me long and hard after practice in his artsy loft right outside of Port Angeles. And then he played me sweet melodic tunes on his shitty guitar (his voice was so gravelly it sounded like he had just swallowed a handful of rocks and downed them with a shot of whiskey, but he was so hot I kindly looked over that fact). And it was so. Fucking. Hot.

He had this problem with saliva build up in his mouth, and some serious plaque decay going on in there, but its not like I was kissing him on his mouth for long. All the practice I had accumulated over the years with hormonal motherfuckers that probably had a hard time jacking off in the mornings if their sticky, calloused fingers were any clue had quickly taught me the downside that is foreplay. Me? I'm all about the instant gratification. I don't want some fucker branding me with his teeth marks or whispering sweet nothings into my ear, even though my shrink might tell you different.

She says that due to the lack of "love and laughter" in my home environment, I have to search for "love and laughter" from other people, which was supposed to explain my sexual tendencies. I told her, "Lady, my dad married a twenty one year old poker dealer from Vegas that prances around in cheetah print jumpsuits and tries to rub her bisexual tendencies off on me." Quirking a brow and letting a small smirk grace my lips, I leaned back in my shit green chair and propped my boots up on her table, tactically ignoring the dirt clogs that landed all over her precious notebook in the process, before adding, "I get plenty of love and laughter at home."

I'm not some fucked up mental case or anything. I didn't shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die or some shit like that - though if I did I'd probably be able to get away with it. But really, in the prestigious county that is Forks, Washington, everybody who's anybody has their therapist on speed dial. Shit, I cringe just thinking about the fact that I'm looped into the same group as those country club pussies. Not that I have my therapist on speed dial. I'm not that big of a douche.

Nah, when I was thirteen my mom offed herself. It was pretty gorey and fucked up, but its not like we hadn't been expecting it. She was this huge free spirit all throughout high school - the prom queen, the head cheerleader, the constant pep in the county's step. But then she got knocked up with little ole' me, and since back then it was apparently a sin or some shit like that to get an abortion, she was forced into keeping me. Paying her dues or something, I don't know. She'd suffered from clinical depression ever since I was five - some days we'd sing to CCR at the top of our lungs while baking cookies, all batter and "some folks are born, silver spoon in hand", and other days I'd sit in the dark while I listened to her scream and cry, all tears and closed curtains.

So when I found her sprawled out naked in the bathtub, the water murky with her dark blood and her eyes peacefully closed with an old high school yearbook photo of herself in hand, the first thought that crossed my mind was; I hope she didn't get this idea from Cecilia. I had made my mom go out and rent the Virgin Suicides for me the week before, due to an unhealthy obsession I had to Kirsten Dunst and her crazy teeth at the time. I guess it wasn't the smartest move, making your clinically depressed mother watch a movie all about suicide with you. Still, my excuse for back then was the fact that I was just a stupid motherfucker, all pre-pubescence and sharp angles and gangly legs and shit.

I couldn't help but connect the two dots as I watched my mother lying in a pool of her own blood. But I didn't blame myself, not really. I didn't cry, either. I didn't scream. I called 911 lazily, handed out our home address, and flipped through a magazine on the cold bathroom tile next to my mothers lifeless corpse as I waited to hear the police sirens coming from a distance. The most pronounced memory I had of that day was, I can't fucking believe my mother copied a fictional characters failed suicide attempt. What a fucking pussy.

I guess that was a rather callous thought for me to have about my own mother who had just minutes before taken her own life, but I had never been all that great with the whole coping business and shit. When my grandfather from my dads side died, I ended up chuckling throughout the entire funeral ceremony as everyone went on and on about what a great man he was. Because honestly, he was a total fucking jackass.

So my tendency to overextend myself sexually? It's because I enjoy sex. I revel in the fact that other girl's feel the need to stick their noses in the air and call me a slut behind my back, when in reality their just so fucking sexually frustrated they probably get about one hour of sleep a night. Where as I sleep like a baby. Fucking baptists. Jesus doesn't forgive whores, but he doesn't forgive bitches, either. Think about that the next time your hiking your dress up an inch and flicking off your ex-boyfriend in the back pews of church on Sunday.

"-the fuck is this shit? You trying to poison me, Swan?" And my day had been going by so swimmingly up until this point. You know its a good day when your "mommy" is passed out from an OD on sleeping pills in front of the surround sound home theater system.

But then my motherfucker of a best friend had to come and push his skinny ass through my second story window, ralph on my carpet, and flop down on top of my 2,000 count Egyptian cotton sheets. Black converses and all.

I stared down at his slightly green face disdainfully, an angry line set on my lips as I watched him grimace into the cup of Bella's Shitfaced Hangover Recipe that I had specifically mixed up for him. Okay, so I had Maria mix it up for me. Still, I had to get off my ass and make the call for it through the intercom, and that shit took up the time I could of spent attacking my huge ass pores. They were getting seriously out of hand. I'd have to lay back on the weed. Hah. Fuck right.

"This isn't Heathers, you jackass. I'm not about to spoon you a dose of liquid cleaner." I paused for a second so that I could allow my eyes to trail down his body disdainfully. I didn't so much as mind the wrinkled shirt that read "IF YOUR THIS CLOSE ALREADY WHY DON'T YOU JUST SUCK MY DICK?" written in small print at the bottom of it, nor did I mind the creased washed out jeans that I recognized as the ones he had on the two previous nights, as much as I minded the dirty shoes that were currently collecting dirt clumps all over my fucking sheets. "And take your fucking shoes off before I change my mind on that liquid drainer thing."

"Sure thing, Mommy." With that comment he winked at me with all of that Southern Baptist charm of his and I pinched my nose at his immaturity, internally screaming explicitives as he slowly and so fucking annoyingly took his shoes off. Getting as much dirt on my sheets as possible. Fucker.

"Anyways, I'm not as big as a dumb fuck as Heather Chandler. I'd never drink a glass of draino to prove my shit don't stink. Plus, Winona's got nothing on you, Swan." He smiled up lazily at me, his arms crossed half-hazardly over his chest and his eyes drooping slightly in typical hangover boy fashion. I couldn't help but smirk back at his grin once I took notice of his big toe peeking out from his holey socks.

"Kissass." A small grin matched with sunbleached hair and little boy dimples didn't get me that easily.

"Have you no pity for the ill?"

I pouted my lips out in thought, before nodding my head slightly, "Oh, I have plenty of pity for you. No telling what you caught from your grab hand session with Stanley last night."

Jasper threw his arms over his head, but not before I caught a glimpse of the grimace that crossed his face. "Fuck, it was like the fucking rain forest down there. I think I caught wind of a few endangered species. They've probably spawned on my grubby nails."

I shook my head furiously, a few pieces of hair falling in my face as I willed the giggles trying to escape from my lips to stay put. I never lost control. Bella Swan did not fucking giggle. "Caught wind or caught whiff? She wreaks of fucking poultry. I have to deal with it every day during gym."

Jasper groaned loudly and flopped onto his stomach, shoving his head further into my fluffed pillows. He was going to get them all flat and wrinkles, and I would have to go through the process of fluffing them all over again. Maria never fluffed them the way I liked, and she always fucked with the shit in my room and screwed up the organization of everything, so I had dutifully banned her from these confines. It would take a good ten minutes to get them fluffed just right again. Fucking inconsiderate, jackass Jasper.

"Fuck me." His muffled voice came from beneath my pillows. I rolled my eyes and made my way towards my vanity, eyeing my collection of basic jewelry and trying to decide what necklace would look best with my hair pulled back as I blatantly ignored his dramatics.

"Never again." It's true, I fucked Jasper once. Okay, more than once. But its not like it meant shit or anything. I fucked around with everyone, and so did he. His fingers weren't short and stubby but long and smooth, only slightly calloused around the baseball season. And my pussy didn't smell like pussy, nor did it have lice growing in it. What reason would there be not to express ourselves sexually with one another? I mean, if he's horny and I'm horny, then the end product of our time well spent seems pretty obvious.

I guess with some best friends it would get rather awkward after a while, but its not like either of us are harboring secret feelings of love and devotion and all of that make believe shit for the other. One of the very few shared interests that we have is sex. When I hit fourteen I learned the wonders of smooth hands and when he moved here freshman year with his expert finger maneuvers, it was rather obvious that we'd become inseparable.

Its hard to remember a time before he moved here. That entire year after my mom's fucking pathetic suicide that led up to Jasper's arrival is just a blurred memory in my mind, filled with floppy dicks and hormonal boys who couldn't fill you up properly if they had eight hands. Jasper was a blessing in disguise, though I'd never fucking admit it to him.

Tossing myself down on the bed beside him, I stared up at the ceiling as I listened to his heavy breathing. I could feel his weight shift beside me as he lifted himself up off the bed slightly. "Hey, did you hear about the new family that's moving to town?" I shook my head no, and Jasper continued in the silence, "Shit, I thought your dad would of told you. I mean, he fucking runs the town." I turned my head and scrunched up my forehead at him, silently saying, my dad? Yeah, like he tells me shit in the five minute intervals where I see him every five or so days as I make my way out the door. That seemed to be enough of a reminder for him, as he quickly continued, "Yeah, well, we've got a new preacher moving in. He's got two kids, apparantly. A chick and a dick. There gonna go to school with us on some scholarship your dad offered them if they moved to town. Pretty big fucking news, man." I smirked, thinking about all the hell these bible thumpers were gonna be put through.

"I bet the FFEB's will eat that shit up." FFEB's: Fork's Fucking Elitest Bitches. Forks, Washington is old money. Old money as in eighteenth century old. To the pussies that run this town, anyone's family that didn't come into great wealth before the Great Depression is a fucking wannabee. New money is like God-awful Crocs, tasteless and tacky. What's worse than new money? No money. New money was easily run out of town by the botoxed and beer bellied bitches on the County Council, but no money was needed everywhere - even in places like Forks, Washington. Still, no money was few and far between here; the only cases often found by people such as the police force that run the town from the reservation La Push located outside the town limits and the preacher's and their families that were allotted a house out on Flounder Field Road.

I hated this fucking town with the passion of a burning sun. Once I graduate, I'm moving to L.A. or New Orleans or some no name town in North fucking Dakota, where I can wear grubby clothes and live in a dingy apartment and just not give a shit. Here, I'm stuck as Bella Swan, Charles Swan's prodigal, intelligent, beautiful, OCD slut of a daughter. The heir to the entire fucking town of Forks, Washington. And it seriously fucking sucked.

"I saw the bible thumper's kids, though, and they look about our age. And, fuck, I'd devirginize that flower of a girl in a heartbeat. Daaahhhmnnn." I rolled my eyes, because seriously, Jasper would devirginize a donkey so long as he could put some sort of claim over it. He had always been so fucking territorial that way. His next words shook me from my thoughts, though, "And the dick? You'll be all over that, Swan, just you wait and see." I couldn't help but snicker at that, because hell, bible toters were so not my thing. Still, I couldn't help but smirk as I thought about how interesting Monday was going to be. FFEB's did not take well to the poor, nor did they to the preaching choir (even though they all loved to play pretend that they were good hearted baptists who'd never hurt a fly).

I had been planning on scoring some leaves from my supplier in La Push that day, but my need for weed could wait until Tuesday. No way in hell was I gonna miss this shit - it'd be better than primetime tv.