Summary: Like ordinary stories, there's a beginning, a start to it all. A middle where everything falls into place. Then an ending where everything wraps up in a perfect bow. But not everything is perfect; Bella Swan's story is more than just ordinary. All Human.
Warning: Dark Themes. But no Lemons.
AN: Oookay, so this is the new version of These Thin Walls. I'm playing things out differently so please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prologue.
Third Person POV.
"Miss Swan?" A distant voice of her teacher called out. "Are you paying attention?"
The girl with dull eyes and pale skin stared at her teacher. "Yes."
He cleared his throat, a little edgy under her lifeless glare. "Would you care contribute on the chosen topic?"
Her class was having debates and discussions on chosen topics; it was supposed to 'open their mind to possibilities' and 'help develop their creativity skills.' As far as Bella was concerned, it was another way love had twisted its way into her life yet again. Just to watch her suffer under its grasp.
"I'd rather not." She whispered painfully.
The professor's eyebrows popped up, staring at her doubtfully. "Would anyone care to help her out?"
A girl in the back cleared her throat. "Love," She announced. "Is a blessing. It's beautiful. Someone who lives without love cannot call what they have a life. A life – in order to be called a life – must have meaning. Love brings that meaning into their lives. Why live if you have nothing to live for?"
Yes why? Bella thought to herself. The words touching closer to her heart than expected.
"Anyone care to disagree?" He yelled out, and the class remained silent.
"I disagree." Bella said her voice cracking. She looked up and met her professor's eyes. "No one knows what love is."
"Miss Weber seems to differ." He said.
"No one knows how it happens, why, where, and when. No one can put a time limit, nor can anyone control it. Love can slip through the heavily guarded walls and find your weakness." She said, memories danced inside her head. Memories she didn't want to see. "It stabs you were it knows it hurts the most. Where it knows you will cave, so once you're on your knees, its torture begins."
She turned slightly to stare Angela in the eye. "You said love is beautiful, it's a blessing. Tell me, do heartaches, crying, and hurting give you the impression of beauty? Do betrayal, hate, pain, and vengeance suggest blessings?" Angela remained silence, her mouth opened slightly. "Love is not beautiful nor is it a blessing."
Angela seemed to be shaken out of her daze and bounced back. "Love brings meaning into lives. It weaves beauty. When you're in love everything seems as if it's okay. Love brings security."
"And when it ends, what then?" She shot back.
"It doesn't end. Love never ends. It's a never-ending concept that keeps –"
"Everything has an end." Bella said bitterly. "If there's a beginning, there's always an end. Always."
The venom in her voice kept Angela silent, biting her tongue.
The professor beamed, ecstatic at his student's interactions.
"Miss Swam, if love is neither beauty nor a blessing, what is it?" He encouraged, knowing she'd remain silent afterwards. Just like always.
"A curse." She said confidently, and then said more quietly. "A curse most of us undertake."
"Care to deliberate?"
"It possesses us, makes us believe the simplest lie, it controls our senses until we cannot tell up from down, or right from wrong. It wipes away our very beliefs, and makes us feel us if nothing could possible go wrong. During that time, while we are unaware, it latches itself to our hearts, wrapping around us as if venom. Coursing through our very soul, dripping in our blood. Until we become one." She swallowed loudly, pain shooting up her throat, choking her.
"Then," She continued, her voice but a whisper. "As you are at your highest peak, the very top to the tower the love has built. It crumbles. It falls and rips itself away from you. Leaving scars that can't be healed and memories that can't be erased. Memories that haunt you, taunting you with what you have lost. You're shattered, broken, wrecked; damaged. And as the love leaves you, it searches for its new victim. The pour soul it will take next. And so, the chain continues." She stared into the eyes of her peers.
They all judged her; all their eyes screamed the same thing. She wanted to prove them wrong; she wanted to show them what hid beneath her façade. But she couldn't because they were right about one thing: she was a coward.
"That is love." She concluded.
The professor broke into applause, his grimy face grinning. "Very good! Passion, meaningful, fervour. That's what I'm looking for."
"I still disagree." Angela murmured.
"And what's your resource?" Bella snapped. "Freaking Nicholas Spark novels? Old sappy movies?"
"So what if it is?" She shrieked, tears blinding her eyes. The loss of their friendship nipping at Angela's heart. "What your source? Some horror movie? Light up for God's sake." Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I miss you."
Bella felt invisible tears course down her own cheek, but she knew none would truly come.
"Angela has a very good point." The professor interjected. "What is your source Bella?"
She glared at them all. She gathered her books and shoved them in her bag angrily and ran towards the door.
"Experience." She said bitterly as she threw the door open.
She shut the door behind her, drowning out her teacher's voice. Drowning out Angela's pleas, drowning out that persistent velvety voice inside her head. Drowning out the world.
Once inside the safety of her car she allowed the tears to fall. She allowed herself to cry over everything she lost. Her friends, her grades, her job, her integrity, her dignity, but most of all, her life. She allowed dangerous memories to play inside her head.
"Bella." Her mother's voice sighed. "Wear some color would you? Black drains you out. You always looked so beautiful in blue."
"Look Ma," She wanted to say. "Look at my back, there's blue there. Look at my thighs, there's blue there too. I'm blue all over."
But she did not. She did not dare say those words to anyone. Pain is worse, when it is silent.
A new memory played in her head, and along with it, brought hysterics.
"Come on Bella." Alice pleaded. "Go out with us tonight."
"I can't." She lied. "I have millions of homework to do."
"No you don't." She glared. "I called Angela, she's coming tonight too. There's no getting out of this."
"I don't want to go."
"You're going."
"You can't make me."
"Oh to Hell I can."
"Why can't you just live me alone?!"
"Because I'm your friend." She whispered. "At least I thought I was. What's happening to you Bella?"
What is happening?
Bella knew where everything had gotten her. She knew that her friends no longer cared about her. They no longer reminisced or even attempted to remember. They were far pass that point now. She was just another painful memory that'll continue to haunt them. Just as his memories haunted her.
Why live if you have nothing to live for?
Angela's words rang in her head. Why? Her life held no meaning, so why is she breathing to this day? She had no answer to the question. Maybe it was the fear of death. Or maybe…it was the fear of living.
But like all stories, there is a beginning. A start to everything. You see, she wasn't always like this. This is Isabella Swan's story:
AN: Well…there you go. This is only the Prologue. Review and give me your opinion. Continue or not to continue?