Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any of its characters.
This is a new story I'm working on, and the storyline will be vaguely reminiscent of Pride and Prejudice. I still haven't decided if I will be continuing with this story, so review and let me know what you think.
Prologue
"Bella?"
Dammit. Mr. Bingley's at Longbourn, and about to propose to Jane. I can't hear you…
"Bella!"
I sighed loudly and put a scrap of paper from the table in between the pages of Pride and Prejudice to hold my spot. "What, Mom?"
"Why don't you come downstairs? You're always cooped up in your room. I feel like I never see you anymore!" There was a whiny tone in her voice that made me even less willing to oblige.
"I will at the end of this chapter, okay?" I wouldn't.
"Alright," she sighed. She knew I wouldn't just as well as I did.
I flattened my pillow against the bed and plopped down on my back. I stared at the small spots of paint that stood out around the edges of my white ceiling and thought as little as possible of anything else. I could feel the dull ache slowly returning in my stomach, so I cranked up the volume of my music. Not being able to hear my own thoughts seemed to be the best relief for this type of pain.
In no time at all, it was suppertime, and I heard my name being called from the bottom of the stairs, so I rolled over and let myself fall off the bed, putting my feet to the floor just in time to catch myself. I walked--or maybe 'trudged' is more appropriate--across my room and down the narrow stairway. The kitchen was filled with some wonderful aroma, and I enjoyed it thoroughly for a few seconds; the smell turned stale and unappealing when I realized what it was.
"So what am I having for supper, since I'm clearly not eating this hunk of bloody cow?"
"The vegetables aren't going to cut themselves."
Mom pointed me in the direction of the half-prepared salad, and I started to cut a cucumber into tiny pieces. I glared at the marinated steak next to my elbow. How dare it look so delicious? Ugh. How dare I think that way? I took a frustrated bite of the cucumber, and chewed it moodily.
When everything was ready, I plopped down at the table in my usual spot. Dad came into the kitchen and looked at my plate with an amused expression. "Wow, Bella, you sure you can eat all that?" he chuckled.
I half-smiled, half-grimaced at his attempt at humour. He was still making cracks about my vegetarianism. I would have thought he'd be over it by now.
"Don't you feel bad for the tomatoes you're eating?" he continued. "Planted and raised only to be plucked from their homes and served to you with ranch dressing. What a way to treat a living, growing being! Take pity on the poor things."
"No pulse, no pity. Sorry."
"That seems awfully elitist of you, dear." He was still joking, of course, but I wasn't really in the mood to play along with him, so I didn't respond. After a short silence, he volunteered some detail about his day that was mainly directed at Mom, and they chattered away about it, letting me off the hook for the rest of the meal.
I picked at my salad, and tried unsuccessfully to pay attention to Dad's story. When supper was over, I did the dishes in a hurry, and took the stairs two at a time back to my room. The aching in my stomach was back, stronger and sharper than earlier. I grabbed my book, curled up into a ball on my bed, and left my world behind…
"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed above them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man for you!"
Be patient, Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy comes back, too.