"Carlisle, what's wrong with me?" He sat across from me, his right hand on my psych-o evaluation file-thing that my mom sent to him after the whole, 'you're going to live with your godparents, Bella,' exaggerated sigh inserted there, 'End of discussion' got cleared up last week. "I mean…excuse my French, but fuck," I took a drag of the cigarette and put it back on the holder of the ash tray. "It's not like Renee has cancer, or anything. She still goes clubbing every night, it's not like me not being there changed something for her. At least when I was living with her, the laundry and the dishes got clean, you know?" I cleared my throat and leaned to the right, spitting my disgust for myself somewhere hopefully not on my Eeyore socked foot.
"Oh, Bella… it's…" He sighs. I hate that. "Your mother…she just doesn't know what…to do anymore." I look at him. I honestly think to myself, that he doesn't know my mother. Of course, it's a reasonable thought. Carlisle wasn't her best friend in college, Esme was. I stand up, jam my hands in my hoody pocket, and take a long drag of fresh air. I shake my head.
I close my eyes, and I shake my head. Sadly, but then… anger then fills my belly. Suddenly the smells from the grill five feet away make me nauseous. "You…you don't get it, I know." I shuffle my feet as though I'm cold, as if the weather warranted my heavy apparel. The baggy cargo pants, the stained Care Bear sweatshirt… "Dr. C, Renee never…did anything." I barely get it through my clenched teeth without shaking, but I did it. "I used to sit in the kitchen chair across from her, while she yelled at me. Then, finally…she'd sigh, and ask me if there was anything happening at school. Of course I couldn't say anything to that. I mean how was I supposed to…tell someone I hated, but I told her how I felt. I told her, something's wrong with me. You know, Carlisle… I'm sick of it."
I picked the cigarette up again, and twirled it in my hand, watching the little grey sparks hit the glass table as the sliding glass door on the porch opened. High heels, I smirked, knowing who it was without turning away from Carlisle. Then I looked up, a small smile on my lips. Looking him straight in the eye as I sat back down, and whispered, as the smile gradually left, "I'm sick of people laughing at me for wanting to die."
I knew it was him with his hands against the sliding door, his back against it, too, the way I could hear his breath kind of catch. I turned to smile at him, but tears were already running down my cheeks.
I lifted myself up, preparing for the expression on his face. But all there was, was a…nothing. Kids, I think. They feel it. They feel you. They're like dogs. They can feel it when you're sick with feeling. "Hey, Jazz. Let's go help your mama in the kitchen."
It's weird, I think, as I turn back to Carlisle, who's pulling at the super-star blonde hair on his head, vampires. I go from being raised by a werewolf, to living with vampires.
Um, yay. A little longer then my superduper nothing. But I at least sorta know where this is going. But, , Renee's a werewolf. Which means, HAHA!Belly's a little depressful werepup… Okay… we'll figure it out together. But eh, let's make this fun. For me at least… what kinda weird color fur should we give our little damsel in distress wannabe? I'm thinking not brown, and some funky weird hot topic color mess, yah? Let's play the Bella's emokidd attire game, and make Alice the little pixie chick…im getting ahead of myself.
Just pick a color, and leave me love, or humiliated grapes. Gah, I hate rasins.
Who knew Avocadoes were fruit…?