I must be fucking insane for starting this story. I have 2 unfinished stories out there, and I'm seriously starting a third? What the hell! I really didn't want to post this so soon, but I was afraid not to. I have to write it right away, and I can only write one at a time, so I need to post this as I go or you will get nothing from me until it's finished. This story need to be written this instant as it came to me in a dream and need to be written before I forget. I fell asleep after reading the newest update by WickedSlashAngel and didn't turn off Taylor Swift.
The result was the most beautiful, vivid dream that I've ever had. It felt so real and I need to share it with you. I'll do my best to give my dream justice. As this story was the love child of my Twilight-soaked brain and Taylor Swift, I think it makes perfect sense that I name this story after Taylor Swift related things. Personally, I adore her. Her love songs are all amazing. What else is more song-worthy than love?
This story will be 100% in Matthew's point of view. There will be no changes except for the occasional third person, which I will make obvious. Also, I'm not writing a disclaimer. If any of you actually believe that I own anything or that I am making a single penny off of this, then you fail. Hope you like!
-INTRODUCTION-
So this story is obviously far from the original series. This takes place partway through New Moon. Instead of having the who run-off-to-Italy-to-kill-myself-only-to-be-saved-by-Bella-and-return-to-live-happily-ever-after scenario, things are going to unfold quite differently... The OC's name is Matthew. He will be hard to bring to life as he is based off of my actions in my dream.
I've been doing research of the name that kept popping up in my mind after I woke up from my dream, "Vermillion". Besides being a reddish color and a Slipknot song, Vermilion is also the name of cities that are in multiple states. Among these states are North Dakota, Illinois, and Ohio. The Ohio and Illinois ones are spelled "Vermilion" with only one L. After much research, the Ohio one looks most like what I saw in my dream.
If you ever end up visiting Vermilion, OH and find that the real place doesn't match up with my story, then I apologize in advance. I doubt that half of what Stephenie says about Forks, WA is accurate either. I'm trying my best. I'm looking at pictures from satellites on Google Earth and trying to keep up to date on current stores and weather trends. I'm putting a hell of a lot more effort into this than most people.
And one lat thing. I read about this thing going on there that looked cool. I looked it up on Facebook and everything. It may be over already, but there's this thing there called "Terror In The Field" and it's like one of those haunted house attractions. It's behind on of the farmers' markets in town, but there was two or three and I forget which one it is. If you happen to be around there and it's still open, then let me know how it is, okay?
Chapter 1: The Beginning
I slammed the door behind me as I tore out onto the street, the cool autumn air enveloping me. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me to my car, ignoring my foster mother as she yelled after me. I barely remember getting in or starting it. Next thing I knew, I was driving out from my home behind the local library. I had only been here a month and I was already sick of this town. It seemed like no matter who I was with, the drama followed. The foster care system in the country was screwed up. It seemed like they would just give you away to the first person that was willing to take you, no questions asked. I used to think that they screened people, but I was wrong.
This was my fourth foster family. The first had decided that they didn't want a child anymore, the second was a couple that thought they could never have their own only to conceive a couple of months after taking me in, and the third... she was the only one that I ever loved. My third 'family' was a lonely old woman named Elizabeth. She was the widow of a man who owned an successful steel mill. I was happy to help keep her rather large home clean and repair things from time to time. It was worth it. She was the carbon image of the perfect grandmother. She baked delicious treats all of the time and told me many stories about her past. I was hoping that it would last forever. I even took her last name, Grey.
But I could never be that lucky. Three years later, about a week after her ninety-second birthday, her heart gave out. It just... quit. And just like that, I was homeless again. She had left me a substantial amount of money without my knowledge, probably guessing that I would turn her money down like I always did, but that didn't help. I was only sixteen at the time, and I wouldn't be able to access the money until I was eighteen. I was very grateful, but no amount of appreciation could change my next two years of hell.
I was quickly taken by a strict military couple. I was fine with the strange code that they had. I woke up everyday at six o'clock sharp, weekday or weekend, and made my bed perfectly. They had a very specific routine which, while somewhat obnoxious, I could live with. It was their other side that killed me inside. They were both devout Baptist, therefore highly opposed to my sexuality. No Baptist parents want a gay son, adopted or otherwise. I hated it there. The wife, Nicole, tore down every shred of self-love and feeling of hope that I had hidden in my heart, while the husband, Gerard, would beat the shit out of my if I did even the slightest thing wrong. He looked for faults so hard that I would have been naïve to think that he didn't enjoy it.
How could I ever live in a place like that? I would rather live out of Miss Eliza's old Cadillac than stay there. I was seventeen now. If I could just pull through the winter and make it through March, then I could finally go out and live my life. I was stuck for now, but this nightmare was almost over.
I sighed heavily as though my breath would carry my worries away as I pulled into the driveway of an abandoned home on the lake. This lot was marked as uninhabitable, so nobody ever came by to check it out. It was when I always came when I needed to get away. I got out of the car, locking it, and made my way down the uneven steps that led to the long stretch of beach. I made the usual short walk to the beautiful section of beach that sat in front of a large mansion. The mansion, according to my research, was once owned by a man named Don Brown. He and his wife died when their private jet went down, leaving the grand estate to sit empty ever since.
I always looked at the home from the beach, think that I wanted to live there one day, but I never approached it. I almost felt like I wanted to be surprised by it if I ever got to live there. Also, I was afraid of what kind of security that the place must still have to prevent people form breaking in and stealing the expensive furniture and artwork that still sat in the exquisite home as though the owners weren't dead, but rather simply out for a meal. I always wondered what kind of people would end up buying this place eventually. Maybe some retired CEO of a big business and his wife.
"This is private property."
The voice sacred that hell out of me. I wasn't expecting it at all. I didn't even hear her coming. I turned my head to the left to see what was probably the single most beautiful woman that I had ever seen in my life.
"Hello, miss," I introduced, unhappy about the sudden shock back from nostalgia. "I'm Michael. Are you new here?"
"You could say that," she shrugged, "We just bought this place today."
Damn. That was fast. The universe sure didn't waste any time.
"Sorry if I'm bothering you," I apologized, wondering where I would go from now on, "I come here sometimes to clear my mind."
"Not anymore," she replied, brushing her blonde hair over her left shoulder, the pale skin exposed by a scarlet dress that wreaked of high-society.
"Hey, Rosalie!" called another beautiful young woman. "Stop being a diva." She glided through the sand in a well-cut blue dress. Her dark hair was medium-length and choppy. She was as obviously high-society as the blonde, but a lot nicer.
"Sorry if I'm trespassing," I apologized, doing my best to keep my mind off of the blonde. If she thought she was the only one that could be mean, she was wrong. "I didn't realize that someone had bought the house. It's been empty for a while now so I got used to no one being here."
The dark-haired woman snickered and rolled her head over to the blonde. "See, Rose? He's harmless." She turned her attention back to me. "I'm Alice, by the way."
"Matthew," I replied with a smile. "Are you two the one who bought this house?"
"Well, sort of," she said, "We're here with our family. My parents are busy getting all of the paperwork taken care of and my brothers are inside."
"You have brothers?"
"Three of them," she chimed.
I was wondering how such a big family was able to afford a home like this. Maybe they inherited the money from some ancestor who was some sort of wild tycoon, but judging by what I had seen so far, the possibility of them being a family of high-fashion models was not all that unlikely.
Alice interrupted my train of thoughts. "Do you have any siblings?"
"If I do, then I don't know about them." I shrugged.
She cocked a well-plucked eyebrow, asking me to elaborate.
"I have no idea who my real parents are at all," I replied, "I'm adopted." I bit my bottom lip briefly, hating that word.
'Adopted'. Such a horrible word. It's meant to take under one's care, but along with it came all of the negative stigma. There was the obvious issue of everyone wondering why you weren't with you real parents, but on top of that came the stereotypes. According to society, adoptees are all horrible delinquents. I obviously had my own troubles, but I wasn't that bad. I never hit my foster parents or broke any laws. I didn't even do any heavy drugs. I smoked a little weed every now and then, but it's not like I had snorting lines or anything.
"That's okay," she half-shrugged, "So are we."
"Excuse me?"
"Our parents can't have kids. Our mother, Esme, was in a car accident when she was a kid and can't conceive now."
I noticed that the blonde was gone, but didn't bother to bring up the fact. I wasn't too fond of her. "I had a family like that once."
"Had?"
I sighed softly, not really wanting to tell my life story. "They eventually conceived and decided that they only wanted one kid."
Her mouth gaped slightly. "That's awful!"
"Eh," I shrugged, "It happens. So how did you end up in this family?"
She smiled like she was getting ready to share a happy memory. "I was left on the steps of a church. Esme stepped up and took me home. I've been here ever since."
"Lucky. I bet they're a great family."
"They really are. They don't like having people they don't know really well in their home, but I'm sure they'd be delighted to meet your parents."
"Maybe," I replied, making a mental note to never let that happen. Alice seemed really nice. The last thing I wanted to do was let my parents get ahold of her.
"Well I have to get finished unpacking. Please don't mind Rosalie. She's just upset because she had to leave all of her friends in her senior year of high school and graduate with a bunch of strangers. Please don't hold it against her."
"Already forgiven," I replied with a smile. It was mostly true too. Mostly.
"She's actually a very caring person once you get to know her."
"I'll bet," I said sincerely. "Do you need help moving in?"
She rolled it around in her head for a bit. "Well, my parents are a bit strict about letting other people into our home..." she puckered one side of her mouth, "They probably won't like that. They're good people, just a little weird about company."
"I understand," I lied. "Are you still in high school?"
"Yup!" she chirped. "All five of us! Maybe we'll even have some classes together."
"What's your schedule look like?"
She held up her finger and began to dig through her purse. She retrieved a neatly folded piece of paper that had been slightly wrinkled from being stuffed inside a purse. She handed me the piece of paper which, upon unfolding it, I found it to be her school schedule. It read as follows:
Period 1 - AP Physics
Period 2 – Art VI
Period 3 - Gym
Period 4 - Study Hall
Period 5A - Chemistry
Period 5B - Lunch
Period 6 - British Literature
Period 7 - Statistics
"We have the same study hall, art class, lunch, and English class," I told her, folding the paper again and giving it back to her.
"Sounds like we'll se a lot of each other. Guess I should have asked what classes we didn'thave together."
"I have period one calculus, period three government, period five anatomy, and period seven psychology."
"Are you serious right now?" she asked with a laugh. "Sounds like you'll be seeing a lot of Edward! He has almost the exact same schedule with the exception of art and government."
"Who's Edward?" I asked. "It is safe to assume that he's one of your brothers?"
"He is," she confirmed. She had a suspicious twinkle in her amber eyes "I think that you two will get along nicely. He's a bit quiet until you get to know him, but he's actually pretty cool."
I shrugged off the strange feeling. "Is he adopted too?"
"We all are," she reminded me.
"Oh, right." I felt kind of dumb for letting that slip past me. "Sorry."
"It's fine. Just remember that when you see us, okay?"
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "I don't understand."
"We aren't related in any way other than by law, so we are perfectly comfortable exploring relationships that real siblings would be shunned for doing."
"What are you saying?"
"For example, Jasper was taken in after his parents' car got stuck on the tracks and died. Now, we have a very special kind of relationship..."
She was beating around the bush too much. She was obviously uncomfortable about the subject. I kind of understood what she was saying, but I couldn't be sure. I took a risk and just threw it out there.
"So you date?" I asked.
She giggled. "Yup. Hope it's not too weird."
"It's fine," I shrugged, "Like you said, you aren't blood relatives or anything."
"True," she pursed her lips, "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, reminding me that it was Sunday.
"Okay. Let me know if you need anything."
"Sure thing!" she smiled before turning and running back up to her house. At one point, she pivoted in the sand, yelled back "See ya!", waved, and kept on running.
I heard a low rumbling as a drop of moisture skated down the side of my face. Vermilion seemed to be cloudy all the time, so rain wasn't rare. Not wanting to get soaked, I got in my car and began to drive back home. It may not be exactly where I wanted to be, but I had a strange feeling sprouting deep within me. I knew that, somehow, things were going to get better.
So there's chapter one of the worst idea I've ever had (starting a third story when I have two that need finishing). I have a great feeling about this one. Unless Equilibrium shines solely based on its Jakeward value, then this story will far surpass Equilibrium. This one will be my pride and joy. Since I started writing this, I had two more dreams. They all seem to tie in, so I'm taking it as a sign. Please write a review. Also, let me know if you like the dialogue that I put before and after the chapters in Equilibrium. I will start posting Matthew/Edward ones here with my input if enough demand is shown. Otherwise, I'll be posting straight updates.
Also, I may consider finding a beta. I love writing and, while updates would be slower, I feel like you deserve the best I can provide for you. I have also resigned to call you all honeybees. You are all super sweet to me, but come to my defense too (WestboroWizard, FFFFUUUUUUU!). I know that is not Jakeward, but I think that you will love this if you give it a chance. Anyone who knows anything about the real Vermilion, Ohio is asked to PLEASE send me a message with as much as you feel comfortable sharing. I know it's a stretch, but I want to learn as much as possible about this town to be accurate in my story. I also want to be able to accurately portray local on-goings, such as this "Terror In The Field" and the "Woolly Bear Festival". Please help me out there if you know anything. Be sure to review and read plenty of WickedSlashAngel. Love you, honeybees!
