Hey ppl! This is my first fic on ff. I tried posting it on Twilighted, but because of some... technical difficulties, (aka: age) I was deemed unable to post something "I wasn't even allowed to read." So here I am! I want to throw a shout out to the sawsumest Beta ever! I love you Sarah! Ok, so here it is! Enjoy! (Oh, and reviews are greatly appreciated!)
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"Pain, Without love.
Pain, I can't get enough.
Pain, I like it rough.
'Cause I rather feel pain than nothing at all."
Pain, Three Days Grace
Chapter 1: The News
"Awww, please, Alice?" My mother pleaded like a five year old begging for a ride on Daddy's shoulders. It was embarrassing and sickening to watch. "Please come to Paris with me?" she pleaded again.
"For the last time, no!" I yelled. She was starting to push the final button. The button that would make me snap.
"Ali, honey, it's only for a year. You'd get to see your friends again. And you'd get to make new ones," she said. Her bottom lip started jutting out to form another pout.
"Mom, a. don't call me Ali, it's stupid, and b. I have no problem going to Paris. I just don't want to spend the last two weeks of my summer vacation shopping, or going to those stupid fashion shows. They are boring and pointless," I countered.
My mother sighed. "Mary Alice Brandon," she said, using my full name, "you need to grow up. You will come with me, you don't have any other choice." Wait a minute… did she just say I needed to grow up? This was coming from a forty year old woman who still whined and complained if she didn't get exactly what she wanted.
"Allyson Grace Brandon," I huffed, using her full name, "I will not go to Paris because you cannot force me to go."
"I'm your mother, so yes I can force you to go."
"I'm not going to a different country that speaks a different language; I like English, thank you very much. And I'm taking Spanish, not French. I also don't want to be with you while you're in Fashion-La-La-Land. Nor do I wish to be near you when some French perverts, who probably jack-off in the bathroom every ten minutes because they can't get any and only want to get in your pants, try to make a move on you and you willingly accept!" My high-pitched voice added a few decibels to my scream. Mom's face turned from light red to deep crimson because she knew I was right; she was a whore, at least someone around here could admit it.
"Go to our room!!!" she shrieked.
"Fine!" It's where I wanted to go anyways. My room was my salvation. Not to mention it held all of my sharp things (such as safety pins, razor blades, and a few knifes I claimed were "lost" whenever Mom needed one for her monstrosities she called dinner).
As soon as I entered my room, I slammed my door shut and locked it. Walking over to the edge of my bed, I admired all of the things in my room that no one but me would understand.
I admired the black walls, the thick blood red comforter I was sitting on and the curtains to match, the nightstand -with a lock- next to my bed that contained my sharp things, my desk in the far corner of my room which was home to my laptop and iPod nano, and finally the bookshelf next to my door that held all of my vampire, werewolf, and witch novels. (I was fascinated by the supernatural darks creatures of the night. I even wished I was one, though I knew that was impossible.)
I sighed, moving over to my bookshelf to reread another novel. I seriously needed new reading material.
I debated on rereading Dracula, by Brahm Stoker, or The Witching Hour, by Anne Rice, when there was a sharp knock on my door.
"Alice?" My mom's voice was muffled by the door that separated us. "Alice, can I come in?"
I sighed, unlocking the door and swinging it open to reveal my mother's tall, tan figure. She held our white cordless phone in her left hand.
"What do you want?" I asked, annoyance seeping into my voice. Mom frowned.
"I know how much you don't want to go to Paris with me," she walked into my room without waiting for me to ask her to and plopped down on my bed, "so I made a call… and you are now going to stay with your Aunt Sharon and Uncle Frank for the year." She smiled at me, hoping I would smile back. I didn't. Instead, my face contorted into confusion.
"Who?" I didn't remember having any aunts or uncles.
"Oh! That's right! You probably don't remember do you? Hell, you were only five when you last saw them." She giggled. "You wore pink then," I shuddered at the thought of me wearing pink, "so they probably won't recognize you when you get to the airport in Seattle tomorrow."
"Whoa, wait a minute, Mom. Tomorrow?"
"Yes, Alice, tomorrow. You will leave for the airport in New Orleans tomorrow at 7 A.M. I already ordered your ticket; you don't mind flying Coach do you? Good," she said though I hadn't answered her. "This is the only way you'll get to get out of coming to Paris with me. Sorry." She didn't look sorry. In fact, she had a shit eating grin on her face. Bitch.
Just then, a flash of me in an ice-blue floor length gown that flowed out at my knees entered my mind. There was a window to my left that overlooked the Eifel Tower. Paris.
Oohhh, that bitch! I didn't want to go stay with some relatives I didn't know, and she knew that. I guess she wasn't that stupid.
I immediately changed my mind and the image adjusted accordingly. I was standing in front of a yellow, two-story house with forest green shutters. The house was surrounded by hundreds of trees that towered over the residence.
I smiled. "Fine. I'll go." My mother looked completely surprised. Ha! Bet the bitch wasn't expecting that! I thought to myself. "How long am I staying?" I asked.
"You'll be staying throughout the school year and half of the next summer break. That's when your eighteenth birthday roles around. Then you're free to go." She was wary now, as if I was going to change my mind. I already saw the better outcome, and I wasn't letting it get away.
I smiled innocently at her. "Well you can tell me all the details later. Right now I have to pack. See you later," I said, pushing Mom out the door and locking it behind her.
I turned around and admired my room once more before I grabbed the black duffel bag from my closet.
I sighed. I was really going to miss Biloxi. I would miss the places my sister, Cynthia, and I used to play…before her tragic (and fatal) accident. (I already missed my sister in general.) I would miss my friends who "got me" a hell of a lot more than my mother. I would especially miss the crazy parties that my best friend, Lucy, would throw every other Friday, when her parents decided to escape for the weekend.
I finished packing my large black duffel bag with my favorite books, and the essentials to living (brush, toothbrush, tampons, straightener, make-up, and black nail polish), when I brought my large black suitcase out and began stuffing my clothes into it. I packed all of my skinny jeans, belts, as many shirts as I could fit, and a few party outfits. (If I needed any more clothes, I could call Lucy and ask her to use the key I gave her to grab some more and send them to me.)
Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz! My cell phone buzzed from my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Lucy.
I slid open my phone and read the text.
Hey, Alice.
I responded immediately.
Hey, Lucy. What's up?
Nothing. Tired. On Myspace.
I sighed. Figures. Lucy was a Myspace addict.
Maybe u should take a break from that 4 a sec. I have news.
Uh-oh. Spill.
My fingers trembled slightly as I punched in: I'm moving.
It took a minute for her to answer.
Oh, shit. Where?
That brought me up short. Where was I moving?
IDK. Somewhere in Washington.
???
Nvm. I g2g. Tell u more l8r. Bye.
C u.
I shoved the phone back in the pocket of my grey skinny jeans. Well, everything was packed. All I needed now was details.
I walked into the much too bright living room and settled into my black leather chair. My mother turned to me when the leather squeaked and smiled innocently. I could tell she expected me to come in and tell her I'd thought it over, and that I would be accompanying her to Paris, so when I said "So, tell me more about my aunt," her expression changed from smug to annoyed.
"Your Aunt Sharon is your father's sister." I shuddered when she mentioned my father. That asshole. He could burn in hell for all I cared. "She married your father's childhood rival about twenty years ago. You can imagine how angry he was, but he loved Sharon, so he accepted Frank… with bad graces."
"Where do they live?" I asked.
"In a puny, little town named Forks. It's Frank's hometown and he insisted on moving there a few months after they married. I've only been there once, for a visit, and I will never go back. It rains almost everyday, and frizzed up my hair." Well that didn't sound like fun. However, neither did Paris. America my home? Or Paris and fashion? No competition.
"Oh. Okay, well…is that all?" I just wanted to get back to my safe haven; the place I wouldn't be able to call my own tomorrow. That reminded me. "Oh, wait. What time am I leaving?" I asked.
"Your flight leaves at 9 A.M." Mom answered. "The tickets are waiting for you at the New Orleans airport at the counter for flight 403. You'll probably want to leave at about seven. Okay? Well, I guess this is good-bye, because I will be leaving an hour before you." She came over and hugged me. "I'll miss you, Honey. Be safe in Forks, even though I think you'll be out of danger there. I love you, Alice." From her tone, it sounded like she would be bawling any minute.
I pried myself from her tight grip and said: "Bye, Mom." No "I'll miss you, too" or "I love you, too, Mom." That wasn't me. I turned on my heel and walked into my room, shutting out my mother's sobs.
There was a slightly uncomfortable feeling in my chest when I unlocked the drawer to my nightstand, took out my favorite razor blade, and slashed at my wrists. The pain in my heart dissipated, and the only pain I felt was on my wrists. But this was a hurt I had become accustom to. Just like the pain my father had caused my sister and I.
I looked at my work when I was finished and sighed. I put away the razor blade and, out of habit, locked the drawer. I got up, put on my favorite pajama's (black fleece pants with red stars on them, and a too big, blood red t-shirt), and climbed into bed.
Today wasn't the best day ever, but it could have been worse. I could be going to Paris tomorrow, but I wasn't. Instead, I was going the rainiest place in the continental U.S. Yay me.
End Of Chapter 1: The News
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