Played By Dark Twisted Ways
Hey everyone. I was listening to "Dear John" and decided to write a one shot with Edward and Bella. But, I swore I wouldnt post this, (much to my dislike) until I updated one of my stories- which I did. I'm really sorry about those, but you can read about that in the AN's... So, enjoy, and yeah. I will be posting different alternate endings periodically. If you want to contribute, just PM me and I'll post your alternate ending and give you credit- of course.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Edward Anthony Masen Cullen ; My beacon of light to my starry night, he was truly the love of my life. Or so it seemed.
Edward was like a free flame- he was a wild, strong, and headstrong man. That is what originally drew me to him. But, now, as I looked back, I think that maybe there is such a thing as being too strong; too wild. Too headstrong.
Because, in the end, too much of anything is always bad for you; including love.
My world used to revolve around him. I would sit up in my cold, old attic and just lay by the air-conditioning, listening to the boisterous laughter of my parents. It was my sanctuary- my quiet place. Everyone knew that once I was up, I wouldn't come down… unless I chose to. It had been with me through childhood, and was always there to comfort me. Of course, being an outcast in school, I used that place a whole lot.
My mother was fine with it. She was a flighty person, not really fit to be a mother. She didn't know what to do about her socially unaccepted daughter. So, she left me to fend for myself. I was fine with it- It left me more time to daydream about my future. I dreamed that I would find a prince and he would take me away from this horrid home; that he would shower me with love and affection-To make me feel wanted, loved.
And I did get that.
But all fairytales end sometime, even Cinderella's.
I met my prince, Edward Brenton Stellers, when I was nineteen.
He was five years older.
My mother, finally deciding to interfere with my life, thought I was crazy- she told me that he was an experienced man, and that I would get my heart broken; shattered even.
But I didn't listen to her. I told her I could take care of myself and asked that since she had never cared before why start now? She said it was because she was finally growing up, and that she had loved me all along.
How could she mean such a thing? She had never shown any signs of affection towards me. So, in disbelief, I turned around on my heel, and haven't seen her since. That was a year and a half ago.
I was so naïve.
So unbelievably naïve that I was able to forget my mother, my own mother, and turn to the one who would betray me most.
I believed in Edward, so much. He bought me daisy flowers and wooed me with simple poems and sporadic dates. He showered me with love and kindness.
That is, for the first two months.
After a while, he began to act a little strange- but I was too in love to see it. He still gave me little gifts, and halfhearted dates, but they didn't feel the same. He started having random tempers during the day- one moment he was buying me a dozen daisies and telling me he loved me, the next he was screaming at me with tear streaming down my face.
Later on, he would apologize. And every time, I gave in and forgave him.
He kept promising me it would never happen again, but that promise was broken many times. I soon learned not to take his promises to heart. Nothing he said really sunk in- All my thoughts were focused on how this relationship was failing and that I couldn't live without him, even though he hurt and infuriated me.
And hurt and infuriate me he did.
He would slowly weave his rules and ways into my life, and I always tried to please him- but it never worked. He always found something wrong and put me at fault. I soon became afraid to answer my telephone, frightened of which version of him I would get; I always prayed for the man I fell in love with, but it was a rare occasion that he would show up. Normally, he would be very harsh with his words and talk in a cold, cruel voice. Every verbally abusive word he said chipped a piece of my heart.
But one day, a week before our seventh month anniversary, he chipped too hard. Like a sculptor hammering on the one part that made the whole masterpiece shatter, Francis finally cracked me; he finally shattered my heart.
He told me that I didn't deserve to be with him, that he was from a wealthy family and that his family would never approve of me, all the while tapping into my greatest insecurities. I could deal with the condescending talk and the short temper, but I couldn't take the direct blows to my heart.
Of course, there was once a time where Francis would never say that, where he would be patient and kind, loving and sweet, always taking into account of my own feelings.
This was not that time.
He continued to shout insults at me, and finally, I broke. The waterworks poured down my face, making my eyes puffy and red, and my nose all stuffy. And he did nothing. Just stared at me and… and left.
My knight in shining armor left me. He left me to fend for myself, something that never happened in the Disney fairytales.
I felt a burning sensation in my stomach and a thought flitted into my head. This relationship was over. I could feel it. Fresh tears poured out from my tear ducts, and I clutched my hand to my chest.
He broke my heart- shattered it.
My mom was right.
Tears blurred my eyes and I ran home, and I deemed this day to be the worst day in my whole existence; nothing could make it worse.
But I was wrong- as usual. Just as I rounded the road to my neighborhood, it started to rain.
Not regular rain, but monsoon rain.
By the time I got home, I was drenched from head to toe with mascara smeared all over my face. Piercing sobs wracked my body, leaving me breathless and broken.
Stripping of my wet, clingy clothes, I curled up into a ball on my bed and cried myself to sleep, trying to nurse my greatest injury-
A broken heart.
One week passed and I was still curled up in bed. Tissues and Kleenex boxes were strewn all across every surface, making the floor barely visible. But then there came the knock.
Yes- the knock.
It signified that someone was here; someone was going to tell me, "I told you so" and make me move on as if Francis never existed. But that never happened. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
My best friend, Rosalie McCarthy, who was four years older than me, cracked open my door, and peeked her head in. Then, she sat on the bed with me and lent me her shoulder. I don't really know how long we sat there; it could have been five hours, or five minutes for all I know. But, what I did know is that for once in her life; Roswell was quiet- completely silent. She just rubbed my back and said nothing. It was comforting to know that she was just… there. And that was all that mattered to me.
There was no, "I told you so's," or "Let's move past this." There was just tears, tissues, and hiccupping sobs. She let me bawl it all out, and I appreciated her greatly. Roswell was there for me every step of the way.
I don't know how I would have gotten through that dark period of my life without her. She helped me find a constant in my life, a new stability, if you will. Sure enough, about two weeks later, I almost felt normal.
Rose and I were back to working in our office, which was located at the far left corner in the back room of our floral shop, Petals. Life was… getting better. I was constantly surrounded by the lovely smell of fresh daisies, my favorite flower. Also, my father started acting the part of a parental, loving figure that my mother never attempted to do. It was one of the things that helped me get up in the morning.
With him, if all else failed, I knew that I was loved by someone; that I meant something to someone- someone I cared about as well. It put a smile on my face every time without fail. I finally thought that my life was on its way towards the fine line of normalcy when she happened.
Tanya Denali.
Tall, beautiful, and rich; a complete opposite from my lack of height and plain Jane look.
I was at a Christmas party that was hosted by Rose's husband, Emmet, when I spotted them.
Tanya Denali. Edward Cullen. Hand in Hand. My mending heart broke all over again. Tanya looked over at me, and held her head up higher, as if she was better than me- she probably was. I tried to brush it off and remind myself that Edward wasn't mine anymore but then, something happened- something so irrelevant to any outsider, but broke me none the less.
Edward, my former lover, the man that I loved with all my heart, looked over to me and sneered. As if he didn't care- he probably didn't.
How could he had moved on so quickly? I sure hadn't. How could he only take a- oh. Oh.
How he could have moved on within a week, there is only one way. My heart dropped to my stomach, and tears welled up in my eyes.
I realized then that I had been played. I had been played by his dark twisted ways, and had been tricked into a false sense of security that made me feel loved and wanted. Edward never wanted me- that was never his goal. His eyes were only on Tanya Denali, and I would never be special enough to prove him wrong.
The tears spilled over my bottom lids and I bolted from the party.
Edward Anthony Masen Cullen… He will never know how it felt to be me- never know the heartbreak of not only by being harshly dumped, but played and fooled. He will never know a woman's resistance, and I hate him for that.
Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?
I should have known.
I just ran out of that party two hours ago.
Shocking, right. You know where you are right now, don't you, Edward?
So, as I bid you farewell, I hope you see how hard it was for me- to feel my pain. I wanted you to see it my way, my point of view. Maybe now you'll reconsider your actions. But, it's too late.
Have a miserably lovely life; I'll be watching. From where? I do not know- high or low, I will either thrive or perish.
With all my passion for you,
Isabella Marie Swan.
Edward Cullen found this tear stained tragedy in the inside of his car. There were water stains and tears splattered all over the page. But that isn't what truly caught his eye. What did though was the wilted daisy petals that were dribbled all along the edges.
Inspired by 2:10 seconds of the song, "Dear John" by Taylor Swift.
Thank you for reading! If you want to add your own alternate ending, scroll to the top for information. :) if not, I'll be posting alternate endings periodically; right now, I'm working on the third one. I really hope you liked this. I know some of my previous stories were confusing- that's why I deleted them...
review please!