Disclamer: I do not own Twilight. I wanted to give my own satirical spin on Bella, and mainly because I hate that twinkle-dicked emotionally manipulative abusive fairy princess named Edward Cullen with a utmost deepest loathing. This is Non-Canon, and ultimately, I will be doing a poll further into the story for who Bella ends up lovin' and etc etc.
I'm using the characters for my own scenario. Nothin' more, nothin' less.
Oh yeah, there will be Edward bashing. And lots of it.
With all of that said; please enjoy.
O N E: Can't walk straight
"I've never given much thought as to how I would die... But dying for-"
I snorted, derision filling my brain, snapping the stalking supporting, abusive novel in front of me shut with a resounding kep sound. If there's one thing that Meyer got wrong in her novels, it was that Bella would be with that sonofabitch.
I pondered that for a while. We both had the same name, we both moved to a town called Forks. Both of us had to sit next to a complete nutjob every Tuesday for bio...
Who has TIME for that kind of crap. I'm gonna live, thank you very much.
Which brought me back to my current scenario of trying not to die during Gym Class.
I don't particularly like swearing, but rest assured I can sincerely tell you that Gym Class has a word for it in my head. More specifically, a sentance.
FUCKING TORTURE.
All in all I got hit 5 times with a tennis ball today so I'm feeling kinda... blergh.
Walking out of Gym Class, now changed into my very average outfit of a pair of jeans, comfy sneakers and a white shirt with a black jacket on top, I saw him waiting for me.
For the umpteenth time, I cursed myself as to why I didn't talk to Charlie about getting a restraining order on him.
Blergh.
"You have a tendency to trip over thin air, you know that? You should pay more attention to where you walk." He murmured, attempting to seem seductive. Attempting being the key word in that sentance.
The girls behind me were having their ovaries exploding and staring as though he was the sweet baby Jesus and all I could reply was (without embarrassing myself like an idiot) "Well, at least I don't have to look at your face when I do, because the floor makes a nice, beautiful alternative instead of looking at your ugly ass face."
Burn, if I do say so myself.
His eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you so abstinant towards me, yet you converse with my family?"
I simply rolled my eyes, Mike Newton now standing behind me patiently waiting, all the while glaring at his face, "Because, Cullen, I have standards. And two, you creep me out."
And with that, I went to lunch, and treated myself to some strawberries.