Disclaimer: I own nothing Twilight and I'm not Stephenie Meyer and yes, I'm too damned tired to do anything more interesting so please don't make any comments cause they'll piss me off like nobody's business.
Hello, everyone. Since The Piano Man is abandoned until further notice and 12 Years Later is almost done, I've decided to start another story that's been bouncing around in my head for a while.
Chapter One- Nobody Actually Likes Forks
I sat down in the corner stool at my favorite (okay, the only) bar in the tiny, redneck town of Forks, Washington.
To be brutally honest, as I usually am, I despised Forks. Everyone was always in your business, nobody knew how to dress properly, and when you walked down the street, you'd have to stop and say hello to every God damned person unless you wanted to be gossiped about. They were all small minded idiots who all thought they should be the fucking President because, of course, their opinion is always right.
My own personal opinion? The world would be better off if the whole fucking place went up in flames, along with all the people in it.
The worst part about Forks was that I was forced to live there. My job required me to stay out of the way, duck under the radar, all that crap and whatnot. And what better place to hide out than Forks, Washington?
Just as Mac, my favorite (okay, the only) bartender (are you catching on to the pattern here?), was about to tend to my need for alcohol, my brand new, work provided, cell phone rang loudly. I winced as the sound seemed to echo off the walls of the almost empty room.
"Sorry, I've got to take this," I explained. Mac grunted and turned away; grabbing a wet rag which I was sure I'd seen him spit on once or twice. He began to clean the grimy glasses.
Only one person had the number for my work cell and, even though I knew this, I groaned when I saw the Caller ID.
"What?" I snapped.
"I have a job for you," the voice on the other end said softly. "What else would I be calling you about, son?" He coughed loudly, not even having the courtesy to cover the phone.
"That's disgusting. I don't want to hear you spewing up some crap in your throat."
He coughed loudly and deliberately into the phone and I automatically recoiled as one would when someone sneezes on the bus.
"Seriously. What else would I be calling about?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe some sappy, heartfelt, father-son conversation about how I should have a girlfriend and be in college by now? Or maybe the crushing awkwardness as you explain to me how to use a condom?" I laughed and rolled my eyes to myself.
There was silence on the other line. I could only hear the faint buzzing which meant he was still on the line.
"Dad?" I questioned, wondering if we really had been disconnected and I was only staying on the phone like an idiot.
"You do know how to use one, right?" he quickly whispered.
"Oh, Jesus! For fucks sake, Dad, of course I know how to use one!" I yelled causing Mac to stare at me. "Not that I have time to… you know, uh… do that… activity."
"Okay. Anyway," Dad continued, back to his businessman persona. "You've got a job to do. Stop fucking around."
"Come on!" I whined. "I just got back from doing you know what with that chick… what's her name? Jessica or something?" I muttered uncertainly, all my previous deeds melting together in a hazy swirl of death.
"Hush!" My father hissed. "Do you want there to be any evidence?" he whispered, as if Mac could hear his every word. I looked around; he was in the back probably searching for my special brand of Jack Daniel's.
"I never get caught," I patronized him tiredly. My dad's paranoia in addition to being given another job on "my day off" was grating on my last nerve. In all honesty, I never had a day off. I just liked to complain when I was supposed to have one.
"The point is," he emphasized. "That you could. You need to start thinking about yourself and me and your mom…." He trailed off but I heard the rest of his sentence as clearly as if I'd shouted it. Aro would murder me and my entire family if I ever got nabbed by the cops. "Edward," he said, drawing me out of my violent fantasies. I entertained the idea of a few dogs ripping off a few of my dad's lower limbs.
I sighed and prepared for the imminent lecture.
"You must be more careful. The door busted open, signs of a struggle; you're getting sloppy. And then when they find the mutilated bodies in the woods… speaking of which, what do you do to them?" he asked.
"Nothing. I'm a good little assassin, Carlisle. I shoot them clean in the brain just like you tell me to. The wolves take care of the rest," I tell him in an emotionless voice. "I'm not some fucking sicko that enjoys shooting pretty girls my own age. I'm not turning into that bastard, Aro. Email me the job and I'll get back to you," I snap my phone shut and sigh, waiting for Mac to come back out with my drink.
BPOV
"Hey, baby!" My dad called. I groaned internally. I hated my Dad and his business trips. Specifically, I hated the part where he came back.
"Daddy!" I screamed loudly and flung myself into his clammy arms.
"How're you doing, princess?" he asked quietly. "I heard Cousin Jessica got killed." He looked at me carefully, trying to ascertain if I would cry.
I hated that bitch. She was always tagging along behind me like a lost puppy. Just because Charlie was richer than her Dad, like it made me royalty. Well… actually I was. I was royalty compared to all the small, middle-class folk of Forks, Washington.
Forks was terrible. I always felt like the trees were pressing in on me.
"Oh, Daddy!" I sobbed. "It was horrible! They… they found her in the woods, all torn up and bloody!" I squeezed my eyes willing tears to fall. If I cried, it meant presents.
"Oh, Bella, honey! Don't cry! We can get you that new Coach bag I know you've been wanting! Just don't cry, please!"
I grinned internally. Jackpot!
Bella is very OOC in this story, as you can probably tell from those 200 words lol. Please review and I'll continue the story.