IMPORTANT NOTE: This fic is currently undergoing massive editing. It is being changed from 3rd person past tense to 1st person present. Nothing major for the plot will change, but when it changes POV all of sudden - that's why. Thank you for your time:)
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Chapter 1 - "When the Body Switch Came a Knockin'
Thick air, heavy with a mixture of incense and pot. The room is small and messy, the wood furniture scattered about being old and gnarled. Dog and cat hair cover every surface, litter stuffed and stacked in each corner, dust bunnies fluttering along the floor.
"Grandma?"A frail woman sits on a worn, gnawed couch, leafing through a heavily yellowed, dog-eared book. There are cheap spectacles balancing upon the elder's nose, her fingers yellow from nicotine.
Looking up, the woman peers out from the bags of her upper and lower eyelids, eyes dilated yet still sharp. She nods towards me before turning her attention back to the book.
"Grandma, what are you doing?"The senior looks up again, this time slightly irritated, bookmarking and slamming her treasure shut. She impatiently gestures for me to come closer, patting the dirt-covered spot next to herself.
Sitting down slowly, I turn, ready to ask another question.
"Fate is coming to find you." Grandmother grasps onto my shoulder, pulling me to full attention. The elder's eyes are crazed and determined.
"What do you mean by-"
"Never be afraid to start the fire."
Breathing becomes quicker, eyes flickering, limbs twitching. Turning over to avoid the morning, an "oomph" sounds throughout the room, a small body tumbling to the floor.
This is not my bed.
This is not my room.
The room is small, the walls and comforter a lilac purple. A child's rocking chair stands in the corner, a closet door and a desk against the same wall. I squint in confusion, hands coming up to slap against my face, frantic and awkward.
My glasses have disappeared, yet my vision is clear.
Confused and dazed, I slowly stand, head whipping from side to side, fingers dancing uncertain songs onto my legs.
My hands feel odd. They are smaller, the nails bluntly buffed down, too short, yet almost professional, like a closet nail biter's.
Surely I'm dreaming?
On the desk is a computer that looks to be teleported from my childhood, a big clunky beast whose capabilities are very likely low and loud.
Tiptoeing over to examine the dinosaur, a faint reflection of movement twinkles in my peripheral vision—a mirror. I gasp, small and near silent, but it's as if the room's air has been viciously sucked away.
A weight begins pressing on my lungs.
I'm mainstream gorgeous.
Soft, brown hair waves past my breasts, mussed and frayed from sleep, a stark contrast to the drawn, cream white of her face. The doe eyes are the attention grabber, giant windows of thoughts and expressions. They are even wider in the current situation, unfocussed, buzzing about like bees.
"Heilige Kuh!" I whisper, fingers brushing down a cheekbone.
"Wait a second!" Foreign feet pace along the floor, attempting wear in the signs of my existence, to take me back to reality.
"I'm in a different world, in a different body."
Don't scream, don't scream.
Well, pacing around the room isn't going to help anything. I walk over to the window, swinging back the curtains to reveal a rainy, vibrant-green forest. A smile lights up my face, only to disappear within seconds, the anxiety returning to choke up my throat.
I begin snooping around the closet, looking to change out of the ratty pajama pants and tee shirt this body is attired in. All the while my heart beats fast, fingers twitched aimlessly, eyes flickering to and fro.
Who's life is this? Am I in a nightmare? But dreams are never as vivid, and no control ever allows me full motion of my limbs, mouth, and mind.
Most of this girl's clothes are rather bland and shapeless, the comfy kind I usually prefer.
I hesitate, mind going blank at the unfamiliar drawer of clothes.
Who does this body belong to?
Getting up the nerve to keep digging, an "Oo!" squeaks through my throat.
A hand slaps against my neck, eyes wide in disbelief. I know I'm in a different body, but a voice like that only makes it more real, more frightening.
Breathe. In, out, in, out.
Moving on, I study the reason for my exclaimation - a dress covered in sunflowers, what luck. I get dressed as quickly as possible, trying to avoid any sight of the body currently worn. That hurdle jumped, I pull on a bulky grey sweater, shimmy into some jeans, and braid the hair quickly in French style.
It is either time to explore, or time to become a catatonic rocking chair.
Soldier on.
The clock beside me (can it be considered mine?) reads seven o'clock.
At the downside of sounding like Goldilocks, the house is also just my style. The furniture must have been chosen for comfort, looking nicely worn in. Faded flower wallpaper is peeling off the walls like dead skin, dust lining the hard-to-reach corners. A thorough, caring hand has not been here for many a year. If I'm here that will soon be taken care of.
Will I be here forever?
No. I'm not going to think about it. This is a stupid nightmare that I will wake up from within minutes. I will laugh, perhaps forget it within a day. It's not real.
My forearm is turning a splotched mixture of purple and red; the spot being heavily abused from all the pinching.
I soon find my way to the kitchen. A policeman clanks around, shoving the coffee pot about, making a breakfast trail as he goes.
My dad does that too.
My shoulders are near my ears, attempting to make myself into an upright turtle. Please don't be a demon, please don't…
He has a human face.
So there's nothing to be done but play along.
"Hey!" I say, waving awkwardly.
"Morning Bells, how'd ya sleep?"
My shoulders go down a bit at the friendly tone. The man still has a full head of brown, whispy hair, eyes deep and probing, their shape similar to the ones in the body I wear. He looks to be late thirties and is still rather attractive. By the way he acts, he must be "her" father.
"Pretty good, had a rather nasty dream though, how was yours?"
"Dad" glances at me strangely.
"It was fine."
I frown uncertainly. Obviously I hadn't spoken like this "Bells," but how could this situation be remedied?
"Did you already eat?"
"Nope, was about to pour some cereal." I bustle over to the fridge. There are handful of vegetables, a box of leftover pizza, a carton of eggs, and a half-empty jug of dubious coloured milk.
"Would you like me to make you an omelet?"
"Okay, Bells." The man gives me another look, settling down at the table with the newspaper. Does he not have some sort of android or apple device for that?
Quickly getting to work, I chop up onions, peppers, mushrooms, and bacon; throwing them in a pan to sauté. Eggs are whisked, and I add some cream and cheese to the mixture, my favorite way to prepare it. The egg mixture is poured into the pan, and I sprinkle in a good amount of parsley, pepper, and salt. The middle of the omelet to becomes solid, and I flip it with care. The big part done, I chance a glance at the island. "Dad" is looking at me with his jaw touching the floor.
Does this girl not know how to cook? ...If there is a girl, and this isn't some elaborate nightmare.
"Where'd you learn how to do that?"
My mom.
"Did some research for fun."
Eyes grow wider.
It's been two minutes in this world and I've already messed it up. Maybe it's a spy mission where I'm not privy to the information! Or the Witness Protection Program... pretty sure that's American though.
I serve "Dad" the food, then buzz around like a dazed bee - preparing his coffee - while also attempting to look knowledgeable about where everything is located.
"How was it that you liked it again?"
"Just a little splash of cream, Bells." The surprised man smiles as I set the food and drink in front of him.
"Wow, that's really good, thanks."
I sat down beside him, covertly slipping the newspaper's front page over.
November 12th 2005.
My stomach does a soaring flip, nausea climbing unmercifully up my throat.
This is too detailed to be a nightmare.
"You about ready for school?"
Trying to still my face into impassivity, I nod, fighting the panic scraping at my insides. Sweat begins to form at this body's brow.
This girl has to be in high school... what classes is she taking? Oh crap, does she have homework due? What am I gonna do about her friends?
And then cold terror.
Will I ever see my parents again?
A honking horn startles me out of terrified thoughts.
"That must be Edward," the man says, motioning for me to get a move on.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I kiss both of his cheeks.
"I love you! See you later," I wave, grabbing "my" backpack off the living room floor and bolted. A last minute look back portrays a very stunned policeman, mouthing the word "women."
A boy made of flawless marble lounges against a shiny Volvo, smiling at my appearance.
Stopping dead, I gasp, air wheezing through my throat but supplying no life.
Twilight.
None of the characters look like they did in the movies. At least, Bella, Charlie, and Edward didn't, which was why I didn't put it together sooner. I am damned - there is absolutely no way this could be kept secret. These creatures have centuries of experience and intelligence, senses a thousand times better than mine.
The smile drains from Edward's face also—oh my gosh he is so beautiful—a confused line appearing between his brows.
I need to cover.
"Uh, hi! Sorry, uh, sometimes I wake up and think it's all been a dream." I say, walking slowly over to Edward Cullen.
"You know I can't leave you, Bella. Who knows what kind of trouble you'd get into." He smiles, taking my hand - cold like ice - and leading me to the car.
"... How's the family doing?" I fumble, attempting to remove the koala of backpack from my shoulders. The straps are stuck.
A dazzling grin spreads across his face, eyes twinkling as he gently coaxes the backpack from its knots.
"They're a little confused, but Rose doesn't spurn the chance to show off her Mercedes... are you cold?"
"Hmm?" What a random question.
"You left your jacket in Angela's car, right?"
"Yea, yea." I nod furiously, mind racing.
"Here." Edward hands me his, a soft, velvety designer brand. The smell is so entrancing, the scent of safety and drowsiness. I shrug it on.
An awkward silence takes hold, and I'm desperate to find something to say. But Edward doesn't look uncomfortable, so I settle for fiddling with the radio.
Even in the midst of my confusion and fear, it's undeniable how attractive Edward is. He has the look of a Greek statue, an Adonis—Bella had called him in the books. Perfectly sculpted cheekbones, a dashing grin, and the vibrant, strangely-coloured hair that seems to suit him so well - although it would look ridiculous on anyone else…
No wonder Bella fell so hard.
But I can't let myself get caught up in it. I'm in a nightmare, an alternate universe, something! And I've always scoffed at the books, at the behavior of Edward and Isabella. The two had acted like love-crazed, stupid teenagers. Suicide is not romantic.
And if my experience has taught me anything - men have hidden depths; they possess hidden stories, secrets, and strength beyond my own.
In addition, I'm not Bella. Sooner or later my acting skills will certainly fail.
"Thank you for picking me up." I say, twiddling my thumbs in my lap.
What has occurred before this point in the book? Obviously I said the right thing before; this is Edward's first time picking Bella up. Has he thrown around that tree yet? Shown Bella the sparkling skin, self-hate, the sadistic possibilities? Was that before or after they'd had dinner? After Bella was almost raped?
I really don't remember.
How many years has it been since I read them?
"It was no problem, really Bella." He locks eyes with me, the predator pulling in the prey. Everything about him made me want to submit—the scent, the smile, the voice.
What the hell?
No. Not gonna let him have the upper hand. Looks aren't everything.
"Heilige Kuh! Schau mal am Straße!" I yell, and the spell is broken. Edward does as bidden—turning his eyes back to the road—confused once again.
"Du kannst Deutsch?"
"Oh yea, sorry. Learning languages is a bit of a… hobby of mine."
Edward takes a moment, contemplating my statement with pursed lips and flickering eyes. The car rolls into the parking lot.
"You are so interesting."
What kind of statement was that? I frown down at my feet as he parks the car. Maybe I'm just reading to much into it, but it sounded like the subject of conversation was a shiny new toy, not a person. Edward never said that in the books.
"Thanks. You're interesting too?"
Edward throws his head back, laughing like a glorious chorus of angels.
Is this reality? Am I really changing the Twilight series?
Where's -
"Bella?" Edward is holding the door for me, raptly watching me completely zone out.
"Oh sorry, I was trying to remember the German word for trapdoor."
He chuckles a bit, helping me out of the car and snaking his arm around my neck.
"I've never seen you wear yellow before." Edward comments.
Is he trying to keep my attention from the staring eyes? I can practically hear the judgy thoughts of the onlookers. Teens of all shapes and sizes whisper to each other, a mob of yellow and black rubber. Really, if I stay here for any length of time Bella's fickle friends will be the first to go.
His scent is clouding my senses, every breath—Edward Cullen.
"I... I recently developed a new liking for the stuff. Renee would be proud."
"Hm. Someone wants to speak with you." He breaths in my ear - Lord have mercy!
A small girl with a mouse-like face gains my attention, her grin Hollywood fake. "You left your jacket in my car."
"Oh my gosh! Yea, thanks." I take it with a grin, and Jessica stares at me expectantly. "See you in English class."
An aggravated sigh sounds from behind us.
Edward Cullen's dazzling grin is on full force. "She's planning an interrogation."
My face tightens, and he laughs.
I'm thankful that we stop by "my" locker; however, the combination is a bit of an issue. A stare of concentration and anger beams towards the lock. Perhaps I also possess super powers?
"Did you forget your passcode again?"
I scuff my foot along the floor, looking up at him through lowered lashes. "Maybe."
Giving a mock sigh, the Adonis whispers a four-number passcode into my ear.
Cracking open the lock, I repeat the passcode over and over in my head, giving myself a mnemonic system so as not to forget.
Thank the Lord! Bella's timetable is magneted to her locker door. The static timetable is a bit unfamiliar, but at least I will only have to learn the order and the room numbers once.
Oh my gosh.
I don't know where to sit. Was there assigned seating? Did Bella sit with friends?
English
History
Lunch
Biology
P.E.
Kill me now.
Okay, strategize. All I need to do is find something to talk to the teacher about until everyone is seated, and then take the remaining place.
And I really hope Edward will walk with me to each class, otherwise I will most certainly make a fool of myself.
"Are you feeling alright?"
I'm not a good actress. Edward's concerned eyes scrutinze "my" face. The clammy hands, sweaty brow, and frantic heartbeat probably doesn't help my case.
"Mir geht's gut, danke."
"Bella. You look peaked." His yellow eyes shine - with what emotion? I can't tell.
"I feel a little ill; I'll admit, but it's nothing I can't live through."
We stand beside the foreboding wood door of my first class, English. Edward tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, a cold, intoxicating trail left by his fingers. We stare in silence, and I try to commit the edges and contours of his perfect face to memory.
His mouth is brought to my ear, whispering, "If you're afraid of me, please say so. I'll leave you alone, promise."
Edward the everlasting gentleman. Because really, does he not believe Bella the type to speak her mind... oh. Yet it's odd that one so handsome and intelligent would doubt when people wish to spend time in his presence. Honestly, the boy is locked at age seventeen. Insecurity leaks from those sweet-smelling pores, lines of self-hate gather between the brows, and the blood-red mouth twitches aimlessly.
I can''t forget that in the second book he'd almost committed suicide. Maybe I should send him away... he is possibly already emotionally unstable.
My mouth opens, ready to tell him to leave, whatever the consequences.
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And cliffy! You're welcome! There's not much say except you're welcome...Doo, doo, doo, doo, da, da! Alright, I promise that next chapter y'all will see some Jacob action.
