Author's Note: Is she back? Maybe? Hello there! Welcome to my first (le gasp) chapter fiction, which I am dead set to actually FINISH. I really don't know what I wanted to put in this note, but I wanted one, so here it is. Read, please? Oh and THANK YOU beta-lovely. You rock my socks!
Disclaimer: I'm sure there are traces of every story I've ever read hidden in here. But, most importantly, I don't own Twilight. Like every other girl, I only wish I did. I also don't own anything I allude to, like Johnny Depp.
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Diary Excerpt from November 29th
It was all going so well. Everything was calm, like the ocean on the best of summer's days. But my own personal hurricane has arrived faster than anything you'd ever see on the Weather Channel.
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"Cheated! He freakin' cheated and he wonders why I exploded? 'Irrational,' he said. 'Foolish and immature'. I may be immature and irrational, but I am no fool! A fool would have forgiven him, a fool would have kept that figurine in her hands while that…that…idiot was sitting at the bar, kissing that overly busty blonde, a fool would have given back the ring so he could give it to her instead of pawning it off. I am no fool."
The loud screams were slowly going quiet, the anger fading into despair. A wad of cash sat on the table, barely lit by the setting sun, the source of the only guilt in the situation. No one had moved for the past few hours, except to check the clock or eye the dirty money, while chaos in the form of a sad, hurt woman unleashed itself. Now tired of screaming, there was only one thing left to do, cry.
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What an embarrassing entrance. That's me, Isabella Marie Swan (twenty-two and angry). Call me Bella though, everyone does. So, I know my entrance may start us off on the wrong foot, but I have good reason. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, after all.
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The tears came surprisingly fast. I was never much of a crier, which may be why my loving roommates couldn't respond. But the arms did come eventually, and I turned to ruin the silk shirt of my closest, oldest, best friend. Sweet nothings filled the room as she whispered quickly to calm me down. It wouldn't help her find out what happened if I was completely distraught after all.
It helped, somewhat. It took me a while to calm down, since every time I started, every time I remembered how he would help me stop crying, I would start again. The tears didn't cease, but the horrible, breathy sobs quieted enough that I could communicate. When the flowing tears slowed down, I managed to look up from my fetal position on the couch to the face of my own personal angel, whose hands were still rubbing comfortingly against my arms. Dark brown eyes looked into mine with worry, compassion, and burning curiosity. I sighed.
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Alice, my love! Meet my roommate, the extraordinary Alice Brandon-Cullen (soon to be just plain Hale). She is my light, my reason for living, my soul existence. I only get away with saying this if the two of us are extremely drunk or distraught. Or, of course, if she never knows I said it. Alice and I met pre-pre-kindergarten and have been inseparable since. She's the mother I never had and I'm the sister that keeps her sane. She moved in with her aunt and uncle, Esme and Carlisle Cullen, after her parents passed away. I befriended her because I thought her southern Mississippi accent was cool.
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The dark-haired woman sighed in return, rolling her eyes as I pulled away and furrowed myself in what we affectionately called The Nest. When anyone in our household was sad and in need of comfort or solitude, we all pitched in to create the nest. Now, upon our overly stuffed black couch, every comforter, afghan, pillow, and stuffed animal was stacked, threatening to fall off. It was the supreme reassurance and an old tradition that we promised to keep even when we all went our separate ways. On a normal day, we could fit maybe five on the large couch with a little discomfort, but with The Nest perched precariously on it, we could hide a dozen dead bodies and the police would never know.
Alice was looking at me, holding in her laughter as I struggled to pull out the object that was stabbing my spine (a collectible Barbie that I was sure was thrown out in the frenzy to create The Nest). I returned her happy look with a deadpan and she managed the reconstruct the worry. I knew she just wanted me to smile again, since she always said I could light up a room, but smiling was not on my agenda. I was far too busy being distraught and serious to risk losing it all to a smile.
"Bella, sweety," I scowled in response to the pet name, but she ignored me. "What happened last night? One minute, we were enjoying the last of our moments as unmarried women," I scowled again, at the reminder of marriage, "and the next, you exploded. Apparently I missed something when I went to the bathroom, because by the time I was out, you were beyond wasted and Rosalie couldn't even hold you up."
The blonde head, which had been nodding along, bounced furiously at this. "Damn right I couldn't. Do you have any idea how much you weigh? Honestly, we bought a treadmill." The sarcastic words were accompanied by a quick smack of the SpongeBob pillow she had resting in her lap. The movement threatened to toss her from her spot, balanced precariously on the arm rest I was leaning against, but, as expected from an accomplished graceful person, she righted herself. To my disappointment, she further flaunted the grace I didn't have as she righted herself. As revenge, I pulled her down.
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There she is, my other roommate. Rosalie Hale, the gorgeous blonde who can get all the guys and sticks with the one who scares the crap out of me. Rosalie met Alice and me in high school, when she transferred from New York and we've kept her on a tight leash since then. She's a little raucous and sometimes flat out rude, but that's why we love her. She was something new to the two of us and no one could deny that together, we made the perfect trio.
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I leaned my head on Rosalie's shoulder as Alice scooted closer to slip an arm around my shoulder. Rosalie, in a rare PDA, patted my blanket-covered knee and tilted her head on mine. Alice's eyes were on me and I knew that Rosalie was dying to know what went down last night. Oh the joy of retelling the worst day of my known life and probably my life to come.
"Well…it happened at the bar, last night, around nine…"
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The club was unimaginably crowded, so Rosalie, Alice, and I locked arms and danced our way to the small table we always claimed. The group there fled, discreetly disguised as going to dance, at the sight of the tall Rosalie glaring down at them. We shared a laugh, slid into the table, and managed to keep the laughter going as the drinks kept coming. By the time we sat down, a few drinks were already sent from the guys at the bar and Rosalie waved and flirted from afar.
"Rosalie Lynn Hale, you put that hand down!" I shouted over the music to be heard, pushing her hand down to make the action immediately stop. "Incase you have forgotten in the ten seconds you've been in the club, you have a boyfriend who you, and I quote 'love so dearly, it's like my heart is being ripped in two every time he leaves'. A boyfriend whose mother called you to say that he asked her to go ring shopping, just in case you forgot."
The reminder worked and both Rosalie and Alice squealed in joy. I laughed, happy to be between my two best friends as the talk of marriage filled the air. Alice and her boyfriend were the longest engaged, their wedding was set for shortly after Christmas. Jasper, the love of her life, was accepted by all of us. Of course, Rosalie had a few problems with it, but you can't really tell your best friend not to marry your step-brother when you were the first to set them up.
Rosalie turned her attention to me and picked up my left hand, the one on her side to eye the stone again. The diamond was small, but flawless, exactly as I dreamed it would be. The weight felt out of a place on my finger, but I knew I would grow into loving it, just like I did him. Both awed at the blush that shot up to my cheeks and I tried to pull my hand back, unsuccessfully. My story was their favorite, the story of unrequited love (on his part), successful stalking (by him), and eventually love. Even though I had been wearing that ring for three weeks now, they acted like it was the day after the proposal every day.
Hours were spent with martinis and dancing and flirting by all three of us, though none of it sincere or important. We merely worked our way out of paying for drinks by dancing with the man with the money, a skill that Rosalie taught us shortly after my twenty-first birthday. Oh the things New York will teach a shy, hick town girl like me to do.
By the time the wee hours of the morning had come, the crowd had dwindled, the drinks stopped coming, and Alice complained about a pending bladder explosion. The line for the ladies room was, as usual, long enough to reach the dance floor, but Rosalie followed her for company while I headed to the bar to refresh our drinks (tonight was my night to pay).
I was reaching for the stem of my sour apple martini, preparing myself for the sour taste of my favorite fruit when I heard the deep, familiar sound. The laughter could have come from anyone, but I'd stake my life that I knew exactly who it came from. My eyes traveled down the bar and locked on his profile, the profile I had woken up to too many times to not have memorized. Attached to him was the form of a woman sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around neck while he pulled her closer by the waist. My angered flared and the sour taste the appeared in my mouth was not the martini I hoped it was. The jealousy that I was sure I would never have to feel again (you didn't get jealous of other girls flirting with your husband, after all) sprouted up and I pushed it down with as much denial as I could.
My mind was running through all the possibilities. 'She had fallen on to his lap and he caught her like the gentleman he was. She was hurt, which would be why she wasn't getting up. Her scent reminding him of me explained why his head drifted over her shoulder, burying itself in her hair. Obviously, the girl was a colleague since she knew full name and was swatting at him like an old friend, like I always did. And maybe she had something on her lips, because his hand was drifting to her mouth. Oh, she must have just passed out. Why else would he perform CPR?'
I am a perfect actress, I am great at denial, but even I ran out of excuses when they locked lips and chose not to part. I wished someone would have been between us to block the view and maybe dull the noise of moaning. My hand tightened on the stem of my martini and I downed it quickly. The bartender, confused as to why as I was still there with the three drinks I ordered in front of me, asked if I wanted anything else. I wanted the whore on my fiancé dead, I wanted to erase the memory of him cheating on me, I wanted revenge, but I settled for asking for a dozen shots of hard liquor and asking if it was okay for me to throw the shot glass.
That's what I love about being a regular, the bartender smiled, handed me a hard plastic martini figurine, smiled knowingly, and refilled my shot glass. I downed the shot, wincing at the bitter taste, and looked at the pair who had recently become the bane of my existence. The woman had detached herself and was waving good-bye, promising to meet him tomorrow. Now was my chance. My fear of confrontation was gone due to the alcohol and I knew that in about ten minutes, the liquor would hit my blood stream and I would be completely insane. So I picked up the figurine, smiled at the bar tender, called my fiancé's name, and took advantage of four years as a softball pitcher.
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"…he was completely shocked to see me and I was angry enough to smack him right where the bruise was forming. Damn football player, the thing hardly left a scratch. He said I misunderstood and was being stupid, and I told him that he was stupid if he thought that a 'make out' fest could be misunderstood. I don't think he expected me to see that. I cursed him to hell on the grave of every dead relative he and I ever had, told him that I was keeping the ring to get some money back to pay for the years I wasted with him, smacked him again, and walked away. Thirty seconds later, you guys came and found me totally plastered at our table. I don't really remember the rest of it, though."
My best friends were totally silent and I broke eye contact with our picture of Michelangelo's David to look at them. Rosalie had moved her head off mine and was looking at me with tears of pride rolling down her cheeks while Alice's jaw practically on the floor. Both looked shocked, but Alice, as usual, was the quickest to recover.
"Oh Bella…I am so sorry," she said quietly, tears starting to leak out. I sighed, leaning towards her again to let her envelope me in a hug. The tears leaked from my eyes, too, (I can't watch people cry without crying myself) and I felt Rosalie's tears on my head as she joined the hug. Our sadness didn't last long; I couldn't stand any more tears, so I sat up a little more, letting both of them still cling to me.
"I woke up early this morning, took a bunch of pain pills and probably clogged the toilet with the remnants of dinner, which I'm sorry if it woke you. Neither of you seemed inclined to wake up, so I showered, sobered up a bit more, and ran down to the pawn shop. The owner seemed shocked that I wanted to pawn such a beautiful thing, but he didn't want to cheat me. He called the jeweler from next door, you know Sam Uley, right? Sam valued the ring for us and I sold it to him for a good deal. So, by now, the entire neighborhood knows Jacob and I are over and I bet all the grandmas in town are making me a casserole.
"But, you know what, I'm okay with that. I want to move on, I suppose. I mean, you two know best that Jake and I had been rocky lately, since we were on totally different sides about the whole…matrimony," I couldn't say wedding, I knew I couldn't, "and I guess he finally decided I couldn't hold his interest. It's for the best, right? Since I found out before we were…tied and I could break it off, that's better?" My desperate plea to convince myself was met with eager responses.
"Bella, Jacob is the stupidest boy in the world; he's not even a man anymore. Anyone who would hurt a woman like that deserves a punishment fit for a mass murder." Alice carefully phrased her words, making sure not to offend anyone. It was the lawyer in her, the reason we tried to push her into going to law school. But no, it would be to demanding and she wanted to focus on Jasper. With her business degree, the world was her toy and her 'dream of becoming a professional shopper was assured'. Hopefully Jasper could keep that dream reigned in.
Rosalie, as expected, screwed the idea of courtesy and went for the truth, the warnings that I had ignored, blunt as ever. "I warned you that boy was dumb, I knew he didn't know a good thing when he had it. I hated him since I moved from the New York, not that I blame you for falling for his charm, even I was blinded by him while still in Forks, but I warned you. I said that New York would release the true horror of his inner self, his true persona." Even Rosalie, however, knew when the time for comfort came in, and she saved herself from being beaten to death by a pillow. "But even I never expected him to sink so low. If you would have married that guy, if he had done that later on, you would not have seen me for twenty-five to life. I'm still considering the pros and cons of murder charges."
I laughed for the first time that day and the sound was a little off, a little dry. Alice handed me a wine glass filled with sparkling grape juice, my comfort drink. I smiled and turned back to Rosalie. "I'd drop that idea. Though I want him dead as much as you do, the con of the bright orange jumpsuit outweighs everything. I couldn't stand for my friend to be put into that much pain."
Rosalie considered it, and then conceded with a sigh. "Stop being such a good friend Bella, you aren't helping convince me against murdering him." Her classic wit kept the small smile on my face and Alice sent her a grateful look. The blonde stood up, strolling to the kitchenette that combined with our living room. The fridge was opened and I saw leftovers, take out boxes, and frozen food boxes fill the counter space. "In retaliation to last night, where we ate daintily with the ideal of fitting into disgustingly white gowns, I say we feast on the fattest, happiest foods we have."
I laughed, my joy coming back slowly, and nodded. "And she said, 'Let them eat cake'. Though, personally, I vote for chicken wings. The crunchiest we have."
Alice smiled, pulling me into a hug as she grabbed the remote, fiddling for a bit until the DVD player was working and the sounds of the opening title of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory filled the room. "The best way to get over a guy is to look at Johnny Depp and imagine marrying him."
Rosalie laughed from the kitchen as the sounds of the microwave, stove, sink, and clinking dishes rang. "I don't think anyone would want to marry Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka, he's creepy. More like the best way to forget about that icky ex is to watch a movie scary enough to make children cry. Hence the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
I had never been so thankful for my roommates.
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Two hours, three plates of greasy re- or pre- cooked foods, and two bottles of sparkling grape juice later, Rosalie and I were laying out on my dark blue down comforter, laughing as Alice recounted her original watching of the movie (Jasper had quite and earful of screams, since Alice found it quite scary) from her position on the couch. I yawned, rubbing my eyes and grabbing the fuzzy blanket from its position on the floor next to me, curling up and laying my head down on Alice's life-sized stuffed tiger. Rosalie followed, curling up with the stuffed Pooh Bear she never slept without yet no one knew about it but us. Alice, always full of pep and never tired, bent her head over the edge of the couch to look at me.
"Bella, do you still plan on going to Arizona to visit your mother for Christmas?" I sighed, thinking of that plan for the first time. My roommates expected me to have already reconsidered every plan with Jacob as though I was as easily over him as they were. My mother and I, who had never been close after she left when I was five, had planned on meeting so she could meet my fiancé and give her blessing on our wedding. But I had no reason to go now, since Jacob and I were only going for one day before traveling to Hawaii to visit his sister for the New Year. Without a good reason, I didn't really want to see my mother and I knew my dad's house would be much more comfortable.
"I guess not. Charlie would be only too happy to house me; I could tell he was disappointed that I wasn't coming to his house for the holiday. And with school giving us that three week break…"
Alive eyed me carefully, listening to my hesitant tone. "You don't want to stay here, do you? You know…" The pause was filled with implications, things that I hadn't thought of yet. Alice always knew how to plan ahead, something I didn't know. She was implying that Jacob knew my schedule, my life here. He was in a handful of my classes; he knew my schedule plan for next semester; he knew which route I took home and when I was working. He would find me, and that's exactly what I didn't want.
My solemn expression must have given it away, because Rosalie scooted a bit closer and Alice let her hand drop off the couch and tousle my hair. "You know, a semester away never hurt an art student. Inspiration comes from new places. Don't deny it, you always say that. Maybe you need to go home to find your new place."
The look of incredulity made its way onto my face, and Rosalie covered for Alice. "How about you only come home for winter break? After that, you could go meandering off to Europe, I'm sure someone in town is dying to go." Alice snorted, knowing Rosalie implied her mother. "Maybe home will be the place for you. But Bella, anyone could tell that New York is no longer safe for you…"
I allowed myself some time to think, watching as the poor spoiled girl fell into the garbage hole. What I wouldn't give to join her… "Okay, fine. Just for break, though. Charlie probably misses me anyways…"
Apparently, this didn't please Alice. She made an indignant noise and sat up, sending the pillow she had placed on her stomach rolling off onto my head. "Nonsense! Why stay with Charlie that little house? I've been asked by my parents to ask you stay with us and I know that you know you want to. You even wanted to when I told you earlier."
Alice was right, we all knew it. Her home, a massive house displaying their rather extensive wealth, was hardly a half hour drive from my own, and I loved to visit it. The guest room between Alice and her brother's room was practically reserved for me and Charlie and I spent most of our holidays with the Cullens anyways. I conceded, knowing I had not argument against it. The calls were made to my mother, who was slightly shocked but otherwise apathetic, and my dad, who was badly concealing his joy, not questioning my reasons for coming home (he would though, when he found out I wasn't going back to New York for another semester). Alice called her parents at the same time (and I heard, in a hushed part of her conversation, the explanation as to why I was coming home) to inform I was coming and I forwarded to Charlie their invitation to Christmas with the Cullens. Finally, all the calls complete, I fell asleep with a pleasant warm feeling, willing myself not to dream.
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Diary Excerpt from November 28th
That's it. I swear off alcohol, I swear off men, I swear off living my life like this…
Wow. Even I don't believe that. I just want to be happy again, and it would be nice if I remembered how to walk without falling down.
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