Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and the characters, I'm just putting them through different shenanigins. The shenanigans are mine.
I'm screaming and screaming but no sound is being emitted. I can not feel anything, but I can see. I wish I couldn't even do that.
A cloaked man stands at the edge of my bed. His ghostly pale hands are gripped around the metal frame of my footboard and his face is locked on mine. I'm frozen. I can not see his eyes, only his face from his nose down, his mouth is red and what can only be blood drips out the corner of his slightly parted lips. His tongue darts out and he catches some of the blood before it can fall on my bed.
He smiles.
Stark white teeth stand out in contrast to the red that covers his mouth. To say that I am terrified would be an understatement; I had a pretty good idea that whatever this man was, if it was even a man, was not going to leave me alive. There is nothing I can do to save myself, my body is paralyzed, and every sense but sight has been taken away from me. Before I could register that he moved; the man was sitting next to me on my bed. There is no way that this thing is human, humans can not move at a lightening bolt's speed like this thing just did.
I can do nothing but stare up at this being with wide eyes as it slowly lifts the hood that had been covering its eyes. It keeps the head resting on its forehead, and moves its eyes to gaze into mine. Its eyes are the most terrifying part. The iris' were rimmed in black and became just as red as the blood dripping from its mouth as the color moved to the black pupil. It continued to stare down at me, and I wish that it would just do whatever it came here to do; the terror and waiting are driving me crazy. Maybe it could read my thoughts because as soon as I wished for the end to come, it reached out and pushed my head to the side exposing my neck. It studied my neck for a few seconds before it placed its hand on my jaw and moved my face back so that I was staring at it once again. It looked extremely confused, its eyebrows furrowing.
It leaned forward, giving only about an inch between our faces, its eyes still boring into mine. It moved its nose down to my mouth and forced it open with its hands. It closed its eyes and inhaled. Why he smelled my mouth was beyond me, it only increased my terror. It took my wrist in its hand and flipped it over. It placed a fingernail over the veins there and pressed. I began my noiseless screaming once more as I saw the blood rise out of my wrist. It glanced up at me and I could almost see worry in its eyes. It brought my wrist up to its mouth and flicked its tongue over the blood that had pooled there. It looked at me then stood up quickly.
In that moment everything came back. I could move, smell, hear, and most importantly scream. I let the loudest scream out that I could possibly conjure up. It jumped at the sound of my scream and flew out of window that I had not noticed was opened until then. It stood on my outside window sill let out a guttural, menacing growl then slammed the window shut. I clinched my eyes shut and was still screaming when my father burst through my door.
"Isabella!" I heard him yell, "Wake up!" All I could do was scream. My wrist felt like it was on fire. Could he not see the blood pouring out of it? "You're having a nightmare, stop screaming! Wake up, and open your eyes."
A nightmare? What just happened to me seemed far too real to be a nightmare, plus I still had the fire burning in my wrist. There had to be blood everywhere. I opened my eyes and saw my father's worried face above mine.
"Dad! The blood, it's my blood! I'm losing it!" I screamed.
"Bells, what're you talking about? There's no blood anywhere," he said apprehensively.
I looked down at my wrist and could clearly see the wound that the thing had left; blood was still seeping out of it. I shoved my wrist up to where he could see it, "How are you not seeing this?"
"Isabella, there is nothing there except your skin and it looks perfectly fine," he stated sadly, "You were just having a nightmare, you've been through a lot these past couple of weeks. It's bound to show up in your dreams."
"Dad, this was no nightmare. There was something in my room, it looked like a man, but there was no way that's what it was. It was super fast, had blood dripping out of its mouth, and had red and black eyes. It blocked off all of my senses except for sight and paralyzed me. It cut my wrist open with its fingernail and tasted my blood. It's still cut and there is still blood coming out of it, I can see it Dad, why can't you?" I was crying now.
He wrapped his arms around me, and held me tightly, "Bella, you have to believe me, there is no blood and your wrist is just fine. Why don't we go downstairs and you can make some tea or something."
"Let me just go to the bathroom real quick then I'll be down there," I said. He nodded and walked me to the bathroom down the hall from my room. I shut the door and turned on the water to wash my wrist off. Thankfully it had stopped bleeding, but there was still a nasty gash. I was scared to say the least. What was that thing? I knew it wasn't a nightmare; I had the proof for myself. Why couldn't my father see the hideous cut on my wrist and the blood soaking the sheets of my bed? I let the water wash over my wrist and I opened the mirror cabinet to find some Neosporin and band-aids. I shut the cabinet and looked up in the mirror.
It was standing behind me.
Before I could scream it placed a hand over my mouth. "Not another word," it hissed. It grabbed my wrist and placed the pad of its thumb over the cut, making the gash disappear. Tears filled my eyes; I shut them and waited for more pain to come. Nothing happened.
I opened my eyes and once again I was alone in my bathroom. I broke down and sank to the floor. I heard my father call out my name but I couldn't respond. When he opened the door to the bathroom and he immediately came over to me. "Bella, what're you doing on the floor?"
"The thing, it came back. It fixed my wrist," I said as I showed it to him.
"There was never anything wrong with your wrist, Bella. Now I know you've been having a hard time, but you aren't the only one. This was just a nightmare. You need to shake this off, come on downstairs. I made the tea."
He helped me up and led me down the hall. I glanced into my room and saw that any trace of blood had been removed from my bedding. Could this have really only been a nightmare?
I made it downstairs to the kitchen table where my tea was waiting for me. I plopped down in my chair, exhausted. I glanced up at the clock and it read six o'clock, I had to be at school in an hour.
This was not going to be a good day.
But then again, I'd given up on having good days three weeks ago; February 16, 2009, to be exact; the day my mother was murdered right in front of me.
"Hey Momma!" I said as I walked in the front door. I dropped my book bag at the foot of the stairs and walked into the kitchen.
"Hey Bellie! How was school?" I hated that nickname.
"Eh, it was school," I answered.
"Any new guys caught your eye?" she said with a laugh.
I rolled my eyes and hopped up on the counter next to her, she was always asking me about the guys at my school and why I never dated any of them. The truth is none of them were my type; they all seemed the same, "Whatcha making?" I asked to change the subject.
"Well, since your father is out of town, I figured I'd make us our favorite food."
"Grilled chicken and strawberry salad?"
"Yep, yep, Bellie. If you want you can get out the strawberries and grapes out and slice them up."
"Sure thing, Momma."
We set all of our fixings for our salad out on the kitchen table and sat down to eat.
"So where'd Dad have to go this time?"
"Just into Seattle for the weekend, a couple of suspects wanted for murder in Seattle were found near La Push, and your father had to go in to give his story and do paperwork, just police stuff."
"Oh ok. Wow, murderers in La Push. That's kind of freaky," I said.
"Yeah, everyone's been on their toes even though they caught the guys. It's gotten everyone on alert."
"I bet," I stated. I was worried, half the reason we moved to Forks was because of the terrible crime in Phoenix. My mother was always worried sick that Dad wouldn't come home one night if we stayed there. Forks, being the small town that it is, seemed safe, and we were lucky that the police force here was looking to hire someone. She couldn't handle the risk of losing him, it would destroy her. My mother and father were like air to each other. They needed one another to survive. I had always admired their love and wanted to find someone out there who would care about me the way that they did for each other.
Mom seemed to sense my worries, and she reached over to place her hand on my shoulder, "But, your father has taken care of the bad guys, like always. No need to worry."
I looked up at her and nodded. "How about we go watch Kevin Bacon shake his cute little butt?"
"Did you really just say that?" I laughed.
"Uh yeah. Bellie, I love your father to death, and he can dance well, but he just can't move it like Kevin can," she stated. She stood up from the table and started dancing and singing into the living room. I laughed and followed after her. She grabbed my hands and started swinging us around the living room to the beat of her singing.
Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Please, Louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
C'mon before we crack
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose!
We were both laughing as she let go of me and dropped herself on the couch.
"Whew, that was fun. Bellie put the movie in would ya?"
I caught my breath and popped the movie into the DVD player. I took my spot on the couch next to my mom, and got lost in FootLoose. Every time Kevin Bacon would start dancing, she would giggle like a little school-girl.
"Now, Bellie," she said interrupting the movie, "you got to find a guy that can dance. If a guy can't perform on the dance floor, well then, he certainly can't perform in…uh… other places." She winked at me.
"Mom! Seriously, why? You know I'm the most uncoordinated person ever, it wouldn't even matter if the guy that I find can 'perform on the dance floor,' I wouldn't be able to follow."
She snickered, "Yeah that is pretty true. I honestly don't know where your clumsiness came from. It must just be a Bella gene."
"Awesome," I said sarcastically.
The movie came to an ending and Mom declared that it was bed time for her. "Okay, Momma. I'll be up there in a few minutes."
"Take your time, Bellie." Even though I was seventeen, every time my father was out of town I slept in the bed with my mom. We both felt safer that way, and after hearing about the murderers that were found, I had no problem crawling into bed with my mom. I went upstairs and changed into my worn out sweat pants and tank top. I brushed my teeth and headed for my mom's room. She had the blankets turned down on the queen-sized bed for me. I laid down and snuggled into the blankets.
"Bellie?"
"Yeah, Momma?"
"I love you, honey. No matter what I'll always love you," She said somberly, catching me off guard.
"I love you too, Momma. Is everything ok?"
"Of course, Sweetie. I just thought I'd tell you I love you," she said.
"Oh ok. I love you. Good night, Momma."
"Sweet dreams, Isabella." I laid there and tried to fall asleep, but something felt off. Mom had been so happy all afternoon, but her mood changed as we were going to sleep. She never called me Isabella unless I was in trouble, or something was wrong. She seemed to fall asleep right away, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right.
After tossing and turning for about thirty minutes, I was finally able to drift off to sleep. But it didn't last long. A loud crash from downstairs woke me up. I peeked at the clock and it read twelve thirty. I shook my mom to wake her up. "Mom, wake up. I heard something downstairs."
"What?" she said sleepily.
"Someone is downstairs! We have to get up!"
As soon as the words left my lips the bedroom door was opened. In walked two women, one tall and lean with long, curly red hair and the other one short and thin with short, blonde hair.
"Bella, get out of here now!" my mom commanded. There was no way out, the doorway was being blocked by the women.
The red haired woman laughed, "There's no way either one of bitches are getting out of here alive. You think your fucking husband can just take our men away?" she paused, "The answer's no, and he's about to find out that pay back is a big bitch," She pointed at me and I froze, "Jane, take that one and tie her to the bed. I'll handle the officer's wife."
"No!" I heard my mom scream as Jane moved over to me. She set a large bag down on the floor and pulled out some duct tape and a rope.
"This may hurt just a bit," she whispered cruelly to me. I tried to scream and fight back, but Jane pulled her fist back and struck me straight in the nose. I cried out in pain as I heard my mom screaming, "Please, don't hurt her anymore! Hurt me, kill me, but please don't do this to her!"
Blood was pouring out of my nose as Jane pulled my hands behind my back and secured them together with duct tape.
"What next, Victoria?" Jane questioned.
"Bind her feet together and tie her to the bed, dumb ass. We've been over how this is supposed to happen!"
Jane followed what Victoria said and I was bound to the bed. I couldn't move at all, but I could scream, and that's what I did.
"You little bitch! Shut the fuck up! Screaming can't help you now," Victoria screeched. Jane tore off a strip of duct tape and placed it over my mouth, cutting off any hope of us being found. "Now let me take care of the wife," Victoria snarled. I started screaming again but it was only mumbles. "What's that? You want to watch as I fucking kill your mother?" Victoria questioned.
"Please don't, don't make her watch," I heard my mother plead.
"Okay, she can watch! Sounds good to me!" Victoria said excitedly as she pulled my mom down off the bed and bound her to the bed post opposite of me. We both stared at each other with tears in our eyes.
"Bellie, I love you. No matter what happens tonight, I will always love you. I will always be with you," she sobbed. My tears only increased as I nodded. There was so much that I wanted to say, but I couldn't.
"Awe, isn't that the sweetest thing you ever did see Janie?"
Jane laughed, "Yeah, it almost brings tears to my eyes."
Victoria crouched down in front of my mother and pulled out a large knife from the bag. My eyes widened and I tried once more to scream, but it was fruitless. Victoria brought the knife to my mother's throat and I looked away, but Jane forced my face to look at my mother.
"Bye, bitch," Victoria snarled as she pulled that blade across my mother's neck. I screamed out and began crying hysterically.
My mother was gone.
I turned my face away from her body closed my eyes hoping to get the image out of my head but it was impossible.
"What about her?" I heard Jane ask.
"I got it," Victoria said. She pulled a metal bat out of her bag. I looked up long enough to see her raise it above her head, then turned my head as far as I could.
I heard two gun shots, and everything went black.
"Bells? You in there?" I heard my father say.
"Yeah, Dad. I'm here," I responded, being pulled back into the present.
"School's starting soon, are you sure you want to go back today? You can always give it another week."
I feigned a smile, "Yeah, Dad. If I don't go back now, I'll never go back."
"Alright. If it gets to be too much, come home."
"Ok," I added in a small voice.
Luckily for me, my clothes were in the dryer. I was in no rush to go back to my room, where an hour earlier that thing may or may not have been lurking. I threw on my standard outfit, dark wash skinny jeans, black t-shirt, black hoodie, and red Converse. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and picked up my book bag from the same spot that I had dropped it three weeks ago. I slung it over my shoulder, and surveyed our house. It was a total wreck. Three weeks worth of dishes, clothes, and general clutter were scattered throughout the living room, kitchen, and trailed up the stairs. The mess only stood to represent three weeks of sleepless nights, cold, insensitive police interviews, a devastated father, constant guilt and alienation, but most of all, three weeks without a best friend and a mother.
Maybe in time some of these things could be repaired, but I'd forever lost my constant friend that I could share everything with. I lost a chunk of my heart that I'll never get back
With tears streaming down my face, I left my broken house with its three weeks of heartbreak threatening to consume me.
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