Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
BPOV:
They say when you die that all you feel is numbness, they say the shock prevents the body from feeling any actual pain…then again people also say they love you, that they'll never leave you, that you're their world.
I should have known by now that people lie. But then again maybe I'm being a bit melodramatic. After all, I haven't actually died, but a part of me feels as if that bullet slammed into my chest just like my sisters.
God, these morose thoughts, and yet I can't help myself. She's gone. Those very words form a rhythm of their own in my fractured mind and yet they don't seem to make the situation any more real. Just like the carousel in front of me, my own baggage replays relentlessly, memories seeming more real than actual reality. Edward, the dress, the shot, that smile and the frantic packing that had followed as Charlie and I left for Hollywood.
"That's our one there, right Bells?" Charlie asked from my left, knocking me out of my dwelling.
"Yeah that's mine". I answered seeing the too-expensive suitcase, courtesy of Scarlett herself. "I'll grab it," I added unnecessarily as Charlie remained unmoving, too lost in his own grief blatantly visible on his tired face. Not that I blamed him, I could barely stand up myself, it seems my carefulness for Charlie's sake was pointless, he was as lost as me. Scarlett, my sister, the one person I had always taken for granted to be just there, reminding me of what I was not was gone.
I slipped on my sunglasses with a sigh, I had to be strong for Charlie, the next couple of weeks would be hell. Hollywood may have swallowed up Scarlett but I will not allow it to do the same to Charlie, I was here to get my sister and bring her home, making sure everything else that needed done was completed.
Finally leaving arrivals we entered into the main lobby of the airport where we would get a taxi to Scarlett's apartment. No one knew we were coming, her family hadn't gotten much attention so there was no one meeting us off the plane.
Taking the trolley from Charlie and wheeling the cases we finally made it out the sliding doors and into the bright, harsh light of Hollywood. It was packed, the taxis were lined up next to the curb awaiting their next fare, worn out parents and business people squeezing through the crowds as best they could. However as I took in this typical metropolitan scene the cause of the ruckus became obvious.
"Mr. Swan! Isabella! Care to comment on Scarlett's death?" A scruffy looking man with a Dictaphone and photographer by his side harshly shouted at us trying to push past the people next to him. People, I realised, that had a remarkable similarity to him, people also calling our names and snapping pictures frantically.
Paparazzi. They were here, they knew my name, they knew my face and by the looks of it they weren't backing off until they got their story.
Authors note: Sorry for not updating I had actually changed my mind on continuing this story but the writers' bug seems to have latched on again. Thanks for your reviews and support and hopefully we'll be seeing more chapters soon.
