A/N March 2016: (Rated M for language and all that other stuff)
AU - I should let you guys know that this is set in the Twilight Universe with one simple change...Edward didn't come back from Alaska to save Bella from the van skidding across the ice. In this universe, she was killed in that accident.
How can this be? I have this listed as Bella as the main character. No, she doesn't come back from the dead. But if you like stories with a strong female lead character, you're in the right place.
This is a fantasy. If you like it or you don't, please review. Constructive feedback is always beneficial to amateur writers.
Thanks.
The Two-Tailed Woman
I couldn't breathe.
Even though I was frozen in shock, it felt like my entire body was on fire. Every muscle in my entire body ached, especially my back. I felt like I had been stabbed in the back with a hot poker…repeatedly. It was impossible to ignore the overwhelming pain.
I couldn't focus on anything else.
The need to breathe became overwhelming. I drew breath in through my nose resulting in the frigid air to fill my lungs. Pain shot through my back, where it felt like the hot pokers had been. I fought to hold back from crying out loud. As hard as I tried to hold it in, my vocal cords vibrated as I choked on the painful cry that had been building up within my chest.
Big mistake.
I didn't think it was possible to feel worse than I already did. My throat burned like I had just choked on scalding hot water. I was afraid to move any more than what was required of me to breathe. I didn't want to open my eyes. All I could focus on was not moving. I don't know how long I had lain there, not moving. But after a while, a measure of peace came over me.
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At least things felt different—my body felt different—instantaneously. The pain was replaced with gnawing numbness. My brain felt awfully fuzzy and my mouth was dry. My stomach churned with hunger.
I must have passed out earlier from the pain.
Something warm and wet gently brushed over my cheek. It traveled to my ear before I felt a strong, brief jet of air over my earlobe. My eyes snapped open. Relief washed over me because the pain I expected from opening my eyes never came.
Fur. I saw a pillar of grey and white fur right in front of my face.
I strained to look up towards the dark, cloudy sky. There was a dog standing over me—a mutt. I felt its hot tongue against my face.
I was lying on my stomach, but my head was turned to the right. Just behind the dog's fuzzy leg, my arm was resting on top of small jagged rocks, all approximately the size of my thumbnail. Everything behind my hand seemed out of focus, however. I blinked, hoping that would clear everything up somehow. Yet, the blobs of grey-blue and white landscape in the distance never came into focus.
Ringing. I didn't notice it until now. Maybe it was the pain that had been distracting me. Maybe I didn't notice it earlier but now I couldn't get it out of my head. The ringing was almost overbearing my other senses making it difficult to focus on anything else.
The dog leapt over me, outside of view.
A brown boot came into my field of vision, then a knee covered by slightly-worn jeans, followed by the panicked face of a man. I was slightly distracted by his auburn-colored mustache as his lips moved to form words—his face pale, like he had seen a ghost. His mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear what he was trying to say.
"Hey!"
It was muffled, like he just shouted through a thick piece of glass. The ringing continued.
"Can you hear me?!" the muffled man shouted. I was too afraid to move. I couldn't stop the dread that started to seep into my bones as I stared back at his ghostly pale face.
He moved closer to me, shouting, "We can't stay here!"
The minute he started to move my weak body, there was no hope for escaping the searing white-hot pain in my back. I reflexively arched my back away from the stabbing pain over my shoulder blades.
I was beyond panicked as my vision started to darken. The pain only seemed to be worsening.
I allowed myself to slip off the edge into oblivion.
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The pain was gone for now.
Instead, I was overwhelmed with all my other sensory inputs. There was so much noise. Shouting voices, machines beeping and ringing relentlessly… never was there a moment of silence. Then, there was the smell—the sickening smell of bleach along with other industrial-grade cleansing chemicals permeated in the air.
I sighed, frustrated. Causing me only to gag at the stench surrounding me
Tick. Tick. Tick.
What was that noise? It was a rhythmic ticking noise which was causing my head to throb horribly. Along with it was a constant buzzing which droned on and on. Curious about the source of the wretched noise, I cracked open my eyes and immediately winced from the brightness of my surroundings. The harsh, blue-tinted florescent light made me close my eyes reflexively. My eyes didn't even have time to adjust to the bright lights around me.
My sensitive eyes opened as only slits to prevent any more light from shining into them.
I was lying on a lumpy mattress tucked under several rough blankets. There was a small tube filled with clear liquid attached to a plastic bag hanging from a metal rack above me. Beyond the metal rack, all I could see was several computer screens, a plastic nightstand, and an open doorway.
There was a blond man in the hallway in a long white coat, facing away from me. He seemed to be talking to someone just on the other side of the wall. Despite the throb it caused in my head, I tuned into what was left of the conversation in the hallway.
"…first to second-degree burns on her right-upper extremity and back." He explained slowly to the individual standing behind the wall.
The blond man turned towards the doorway and did a double-take once he realized I was looking in his direction. In the flash of an eye, he was moving towards me with long strides. The man who found me—the man with the moustache—came into view. He was following the blond man closely—his expression was filled with worry… and hope.
"Miss, my name is Dr. Roos," he introduced himself, keeping his eyes glued to mine as his hand blindly fished for something in the pocket of his white coat. Dr. Roos appeared a little bit older than the man who found me, he pulled out a pen from his pocket, "How are you feeling?" he asked sympathetically.
How do I answer this? My head was spinning and throbbing, my throat was on fire, my ears were ringing relentlessly, and everything smelled like bleach. For some reason, a certain expression came to mind…
I've been better.
But that wasn't true either. All I could remember was feeling like hell warmed over when I had curled up in agonizing pain before being licked by the dog. What else was there to compare to?
Nothing.
That doesn't make sense.
I don't remember.
I searched my mind for some comparison, but I came up with nothing.
"I…" I croaked softly from my flaming throat. I reached up towards my throat, coughing and wincing from the pain in my throat and in the muscles of my arm.
"Would you like some water?" Dr. Roos asked just as a short, stocky woman in a blue outfit walked into the room.
I nodded in response.
Dr. Roos made brief eye contact with the woman, who left just as quickly as she appeared.
"You're in Saint Joseph's Hospital in Tacoma." Dr. Roos informed me, as his eyes glanced at the monitors beside my bed. "You were found by Mr. Swan here in the Olympic National Forest," He gestured over to the man with the moustache before continuing, "What is your name?"
I opened and closed my mouth. Nothing came to mind. I suddenly felt hyperaware of my heart beating in my chest. It felt like it was pounding against my ribcage which caused my blood to rush passed my ears.
Dr. Roos could tell I was struggling to answer his basic question, so he asked another question "Is there anyone you would like for us to contact for you?"
"I… I'm not sure." I stammered, my voice was still hoarse. "I guess…" I coughed weakly, the muscles in my chest ached in protest, "I'm having difficulty remembering."
Apparently staying outside during questionable weather wasn't conducive to one's health. Dr. Roos explained that, based on the signs, it was likely that I had been struck by lightning. I had entry and exit burns located on my back and my right hand. He explained that there was no identification found.
The man who found me, Mr. Swan—Charlie—was the chief of police in Forks, Washington. He had saved my life. Apparently I had developed myoglobinuria, according to Dr. Roos, this had been caused by my muscles over-contracting because of the electric shock of the lightning. If Charlie had found me any later than he had, I probably would have died.
That night, I left the hospital in Charlie's police cruiser. It had been mutually decided that I would be staying with him until my identity was determined. My future had been thoroughly discussed between Charlie and myself along with various individuals at the hospital that included several social workers and my case manager. Charlie had stated I had nowhere else to go and he had connections through the Forks Police Department.
My mind had raced, trying to understand my situation, as there was a lot for me to take into consideration. However, it all came down to what I was being offered. A safe place. My case manager explained to me that I couldn't stay in the hospital because of the cost alone. My short stay in the ICU would cost me upwards of $1,500 and there would be a bill sent to Charlie's address later this month. Plus I couldn't stand being in the hospital for one more minute. The scent of bleach had been nauseating, it was mere luck that I somehow managed to repress the urge to be sick.
But a voice inside my head told me that no one was looking for me. I accepted the unexplainable feeling wholeheartedly.
Call it instinct.
Pulling into Charlie's driveway and cutting the engine of the police cruiser brought a huge sigh of relief. I had finally escaped the lights, smells, and sounds that I assumed had to be nearly impossible to get away from in the large city. It took three hours for us to drive back to drive back to Forks. In that time I discovered that I hated riding in the car. Not because the company was bad, no—we discussed many things, from baseball to fishing— it was the smell of the exhaust from all of the cars on the road combined with the bright, blinding headlights of oncoming traffic.
He lived on the western outskirt of Forks, close to an expanse of forest that no one really owned. Charlie's house was peaceful.
This reminded me… that something was missing.
"Where's your dog?" I asked, as my eyes darted eagerly to each side of Charlie's home, thinking I might catch sight of a fence that might be his/her enclosure.
"I called my deputy to pick her up when I drove to the hospital." He answered as he turned towards the front door, his boots crunching against the gravel. "I'll pick her up tomorrow."
"What's her name?"
"Ackley." Charlie smiled fondly.
I trailed behind him up two small steps onto a porch before we entered his two-story home. Charlie shook off his boots after closing the front door behind us. I slipped out of the cheap plastic flip flops that Charlie had picked up from a nearby clothing store while I was being discharged from the hospital. He had already done so much for me, nearly a complete stranger—welcoming me into his home and buying me the clothes on my back.
"Here's the kitchen. There isn't much in the fridge right now, but you're welcome to it." He stated earnestly as rubbed his hand over his brow. He probably was just exhausted as I was after the long drive back.
Looking up at him, I smiled and nodded, distracted momentarily by his encouraging smile, "Thank you, Charlie."
His small smile that tugged on his moustache quickly merged into a slight frown, "I have to be at the station all day tomorrow." Charlie sighed, rubbing his sleep deprived eyes. "Got a lot of work to catch up on." he winced, turning towards the stairs before he raised his hand in a half-hearted gesture signaling me to follow him, "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping and where the bathroom is."
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Bella. Her room smelled like dust and books, I couldn't detect any female scent besides my own. Charlie had pointed me towards her room—the room at the end of the hall, instructing me that I was welcome to use whatever was in there. When I asked if Bella would mind, I immediately regretted I even asked.
His features were immediately laced in pain as he shook his head before he quickly disappeared into his room at the opposite end of the hallway.
I assume that she was no longer in his life. I just hoped that she hadn't passed away.
In the center of the room, there was a large open box of his daughter's things. In the box, there was an assortment of bath products sorted in a small white tub resting on top of a stack of books. I had opened the shampoo bottle and sniffed carefully. I was assaulted with the scent of strawberries, thankfully it wasn't too overwhelming. I needed to wash off the hospital stench that had clung to my skin. I carried the strawberry-scented shampoo and a set of plaid flannel pajamas that I found towards the bathroom to take a bath.
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My long, black hair was sticking up horribly in several directions, protesting against the build-up of oil—a consequence of both not being washed and my stay in the hospital. I examined the foreign features staring back at me in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. I obviously wouldn't be confused as Charlie's daughter, as my features were obviously from Asian descent. My complexion had a golden glow, my cheekbones high, and finally the classic almond-shaped eyes with an iris so dark, that it was almost black. Unless I pressed my cheek up against the mirror, I couldn't tell the difference in color between my pupil and the dark iris surrounding it.
I was instructed not to get the dressings wet. I was careful that no water came near the white-cotton taped to my upper back or my right arm.
Tucked under the purple sheets, I was lying in Charlie's daughter's bed. Night had come and gone and Charlie had long since left for work. My body ached, including my stomach, which was aching for a different reason. I would have to venture downstairs soon to investigate if there was anything to eat in Charlie's fridge, I wasn't sure my stomach was going to last much longer.
I sighed as I slipped out from under the covers, carefully, as to avoid brushing the sensitive skin on my back. Even though the wound was covered, the area between my shoulder blades burned when I twisted too far or slouched. During the long car ride, Charlie said he was going to pick up my prescriptions today from the local pharmacy. I had no idea when he would be back. I needed to find a way to repay him. I don't know how though. Money seemed to be most pressing issue. I can't imagine anyone would hire me with no work history and no educational history. I would have to ask Charlie about it later.
I swung my bare feet over, setting my feet gently onto the wooden floors. Last night I noted that some of the floorboards in the house audibly protested when any amount of weight was placed on them. I tested my footing as I made my way to the kitchen, mentally noting which boards creaked.
The contents of the fridge were meager: beer, five eggs, half a loaf of sliced bread, ketchup, three sticks of butter, & bacon.
Well, improving Charlie's diet would be one way to repay him. I wonder if I knew how to cook. I knew enough to know that beer, eggs, bread, and butter wasn't a well-balanced diet. Maybe there were some cookbooks in the house.
At least I knew how to read.
That was a start.
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I fried one egg for lunch and ate one slice of toast, just enough to hold me over until Charlie came back.
After going through all the books in Bella's room, I found several cook books; I stacked most of them on top of the dresser next to the bed. It was chilly in the house, so I tucked myself under the covers while I read, lying on my side.
I heard the tires of the police cruiser on the gravel just before 6:45 pm. I quickly squirmed out from under the blankets with minimal burning from the wounds on my back. I my feet swiftly settled only on the silent floorboards and I skipped over the 2nd step from the top, which groaned no matter where or how gently you placed your foot. Charlie came in through the door with a several bags of prescription medications in one hand and an arm-full of groceries in the other.
"Let me help you." I called eagerly as I rushed towards him. Various new scents wafted into the entryway, the more notable being the smell of dog permeating from Charlie's clothes.
"Just be careful of that right arm," he warned as we transferred some of the weight of the groceries onto my left arm.
"Where's Ackley?" I asked, expecting her to jump out at any moment.
"She's waiting in the car." He explained as we unloaded the groceries onto the table, "She's still kind of a puppy, a young dog at least, so I'm trying to train her."
I nodded my head as I eagerly slipped on my flip-flops before I followed Charlie outside to meet the puppy.
I could see her spying through the window of the police cruiser at us. Her body language screamed excitement even though she was desperately trying to contain it. She was a mutt for sure, but I could tell that she had some Australian Shepard in her blood.
I think I might be a dog person. How else would I know that stuff?
Charlie opened the passenger door of the police cruiser, "Stay." He stated firmly.
She stayed planted in the vehicle even though her entire back end was wiggling back and forth.
"Don't let her jump up on you," He spoke towards me gruffly.
I nodded impatiently. Charlie verbally cued Ackley that she was allowed to exit the vehicle. Her paws quickly padded across the driveway in my direction before coming to an abrupt halt. Her front paws danced excitedly in front of me.
I felt an undeniable urge to play with Ackley and frolic around in the gravel. I felt a pleasurable shiver throughout my body before I was face-to-face with Ackley.
Her wet tongue darted out to lick my face causing me to yip in delight.
Yip?
I suddenly became acutely aware of my body. Something wasn't right.
My head whipped around to look over my shoulder. A small heap of pajamas was covering my body. I crept forward, revealing red fur that had sprouted over my back to half-way up my bushy tail…
Or should I say tails?
How different it was to even have a tail…
Let alone two of them.
But a slightly more distracting fact was the bandages that had been covering the burns on my back were now stuck to my fur. An unintentional snarl escaped through my teeth.
Movement in my peripheral vision caused my head to snap in that direction.
Charlie. He was standing there with widened eyes. Lips turned down slightly in a frown. He looked really tall in my new perspective.
What the fuck is happening?
Thanks for reading.
Let me know if you want more. Or if this is a dud.
