Cherries
Summary: Have you eve noticed, that life is never sweet or sour, but somewhere in between? That's why I think life is like a bowl of cherries – never good, but never really bad either.
Prologue
I tapped my pencil in an insistent beat against the wooden tabletop, eyes flicking between the clock and the teacher in front of the class. The ticking had started getting to me already.
I don't know why, but today I was touchy, on…edge. It felt like my semi-peaceful life was about to explode on me for some bizarre reason. It didn't feel nice.
I exhaled heavily, tapping again in a bored manner, making up some semblance of a tune as I hummed under my breath. I already understood what was going on, having taken an Advanced subject of this particular type in my old school. It wasn't anything new.
Suddenly, freedom came in the ring of a sharp bell. I stood quickly, sweeping books and stationary into my bag before being one of the first to leave the stifling classroom. As I hurried down the corridors, I risked a glance out of one of the windows lining the wall.
The sky was thick with rain clouds, the soft pitter-patter of rainfall already sounding, and considering the already humid atmosphere, I could guess this weather could turn for the worse at any moment. From rain, to thunder and lightning. It wasn't impossible, heck, it happened all the time. I just happened to hate bad weather, and for what must've been the nth time, I was asking myself: 'Bella, why did you move from Phoenix again?'
It was a question I repeated many times when things went wrong, running the words through my head over and over, questioning myself ruthlessly about my choice. It couldn't all be because of my mom's remarriage, or because of the continuous travelling she had mentioned.
To be honest, I think I was called to be in Forks. There! That feeling again. Something bad was going to happen, something real bad. Something that I probably couldn't get out of, no matter how hard I tried.
I feel sick, all of a sudden. Strange, huh?
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
I had a shudder again in the middle of chopping some vegetables. I paused, knife going slack, and I had the intelligence to place the potentially dangerous blade to the side. I sighed and retreated from the kitchen, stomach lurching horribly.
Mom and Charlie always used to say that I had this sixth sense for danger and trouble, and that it was unfortunate that it did nothing to help me avoid it.
I ambled up the stairs and into the bathroom, splashing my face several times with cold water. Watching my pale face in the mirror, I curled a lock of hair around my finger and mused about the length. It had gotten quite long. Maybe I should go and get it cut sometime…
My thoughts flickered to the waiting food downstairs, and I sighed. One thing at a time, Bella, one thing at a time.
Traipsing back down the stairs, I picked up the knife again and continued my job that had been interrupted because of my strange feeling.
It never used to be this bad. Maybe up to six times or less a year? But now I've been getting it regularly, this prickling feeling like someone's watching me, this sickening feeling like I've just dropped down from somewhere high at a fast speed, my heart jumping up my throat.
I appreciate that I'm rambling now, talking about weird symptoms. Knowing my luck, it's probably some dreadful illness, though I can't shake of the thought that I'm somebody's prey.
Little did I know, that crucial little fact was true.
Something was out to get me, and it couldn't be guaranteed that 'something' was friendly.
