A/N: I was a little sad that I only got one review, but that's alright! I'll just keep writing and maybe more people will read. I hope you all like this next chapter. I might change the end, but I'm not sure. I think that this is going to be a short fic, but I enjoy writing it. As always, enjoy!
Last time: "Bella?" I gasped.
Bella laughed again. "No," she said. "Close, but not quite."
No? How could she not be my Bella? She looked like my Bella and sounded like my Bella and I couldn't hear her thoughts like my Bella, but she said that she wasn't Bella.
"My name is Isabella," she continued. "But everyone calls me –"
"Bella," I finished for her. "I know who you are. You're my Bella." Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.
"No," she said. Calmly but firmly. "My name is Isabella and I go by Isy. Now what are you doing out here in the rain, Edward?" Her voice reminded me of a parent scolding a child.
I stared blankly at her, this girl that looked like my Bella yet claimed she was not. This must be a trick. Bella was playing a trick on me. Or my mind. Maybe I had gone insane. I didn't even know if vampires could go insane, but I must have.
She sighed, obviously waiting for me to respond. She extended her hand to help me up and I took it automatically, though I didn't need help. I noticed that she was holding an umbrella at the same time that I realized that the rain was no longer hitting my hair and face.
The girl named Isy smiled at me as she "helped" me up. As she did so, I inhaled her scent. It was not the fiery fragrance that had tempted me so when I was with Bella. It wasn't her.
My dead heart seemed to break all over again.
She dropped my hand and repositioned the umbrella, raising to make up of our height difference.
"Come on, Edward," she said, grabbing my hand again and pulling me along.
"Who are you?" I asked Isy. "How do you know my name?"
"I already told you. My name is Isy," she said in a slightly exasperated tone. "I'll tell you the rest when we get home."
"Home?" I asked dumbly.
"Well, it's not really a home as it is place that I stay that has four walls and a roof. I don't really have a home, per se. Just houses." She sighed with what I could only guess was sorrow or disappointment. Her thoughts were just as silent as Bella's. "Anyway, we're just a couple of blocks away."
As we walked, it continued to rain harder, pelting the buildings, roads, and the umbrella with great force. I was surprised that Isy could keep the umbrella from flying out of her hands.
She turned right, crossing the street quickly though there were no cars coming. She reached over low wooden gates that decorated one of the pathways that lead to a faded red house that looked more like a shake than an actual house. She opened the gate and began walking up the path to the house until we reached the covered porch. Isy shook the water off the umbrella and closed it, reaching into her pocket for a little silver key. She unlocked the door and pushed it over, letting me walk in first.
The house was small and warm, with red walls, old, off-white furniture, a honey-colored coffee table and a small dining table with three chairs made from the same type of wood. There was a tiny kitchenette that was separated from the rest of the living space by a bar with two stools. A claustrophobic hallway led to two doors on either side, one I assumed was a bedroom and the other a bathroom.
"Well, don't just stand there," Isy said, tossing a towel that was hanging on a peg at me, closing the door quickly. "Towel off. I know you can't catch a cold and all, but you shouldn't be walking around in wet clothes. Plus, you're going to drip water on my carpet," she added, looking down at the floor where there were already dark spots from the water dripping from my clothes.
"Sorry," I murmured. I ran the towel through my hair, letting g my eyes sweep over the room again. This time a small bundle of light colored fabric sitting on the arm of the cramped three-person couch.
Isy walked over to the kitchenette and started rummaging through the cabinet.
"Oh, I got those for you," she said, pointing at the neatly folded clothes. "I'm fairly certain that they're the right size. The bathroom's down the hall, on the left."
Numbly, I grabbed the clothes and walked to the bathroom. Like everything else in this house, it was very small. It made me think of our house in Forks, how big it was. My room back home was bigger than this whole house.
Quickly, I undressed and dried off before putting the new clothes on. They were a white, button-up, long-sleeved shirt and white-washed blue jeans, much like the type of clothes I might have worn back home.
God, I must be some sort of masochist. Thinking about Bella just made everything worse, and I couldn't think about Forks or home without thinking that Bella was still there. Maybe she had said yes to someone, just like I had always known was best for her. What if it was Mike Newton or Tyler Crowley? I never did have the patience for those two. But, then again, she didn't ever seem to, either. She didn't seem to pay attention to the boys at Forks High. No one at all, though every boy there wanted her. She didn't want any of them.
Except me.
I groaned. Why did I keep doing this to myself? Before I could think of Bella and the big white house by the river, I walked back into the main room.
"Hey, you can put your shoes next to the heater so they dry", Isy said, leaning on the countertop of the kitchenette as I walked into the living room. "I should have thought to get a pair of new shoe, too, but I didn't think about it."
I did like she said, putting my once expensive-looking designer shoes by the heater. I hadn't put much effort into taking care of my belongings since I left Forks. All I had with me were the clothes on my back and my pain.
Isy smiled at me as a kettle that was sitting on the small stovetop began to whistle. "Tea?" she asked politely.
"Er…" I didn't want to be rude, but I really didn't want to drink that disgusting human beverage. I had never really cared for it when I was human, anyway.
She smiled at me. "It's okay. I only asked to be polite. You don't have to have any." She pulled one coffee mug down from one of the cabinet, poured some of the hot water in it, and put a tea bag inside. She walked around the bar and sat down on the couch, curling up by the arm. She gestured to the other side of the couch. "Sit down. Ask your questions," she said. "I know you have a lot of them." She smiled, and I started noticing small differences between her and Bella. Her hair didn't have any red in it and her eyes didn't have quite the depth to them. Her lips were more balanced and her cheek bones were slightly closer together, making her face less heart-shaped and more oval. Still, the resemblance was shocking.
"So what do you want to know?" she asked, still smiling.
I took a deep breath, pushing Bella, temporarily, from my mind. "Who are you? How do you know who I am?"
Her smiled grew. "My name is Isabella Amélie Little and I know everything about you Edward."
"How?" I asked.
"Because I can see things that no one else can," she said. "I can see the world, perfectly and clearly. And I can especially see you and the mistakes you've made."
