Isabella Swan preferred to be called Bella. Not Bells or Bell. Just Bella. She saw herself as a plain Jane. Typical brown hair, brown eyes and a small mouth. She was petite but had curves in all the right places. She liked how her stomach stayed flat without doing exercise and how her size shoe was always in stock. But she did not rank herself as attractive. Just average.
But to the male population. She was considered beautiful.
However, Bella was oblivious to the stares, the double takes and smiles when she walked. She wasn't lost in her own little world. She was just closed off emotionally. To men. She could not even count one male friend on her hand. Some men would call her high maintenance. Other's that she was playing hard to get. Women would see her as an arrogant bitch. The truth was Bella Swan was neither of these things. Not really. If her father hadn't been cold, and if her mother hadn't been so manipulative. Maybe she would have turned out differently. Happier, friendlier and more approachable. Instead her upbringing resulted in Bella Swan being the opposite.
Cold. Bitter. Concealed.
She was everything she never wanted to be. She didn't want to be this way. She wanted to be a better person. But she had never known anything different. Her life had never been normal. Not the way it should have been. The way it could have been. And when she thought of all the moments she had lost, it made her a little sourer every day. Of course those thoughts were fleeting in her mind.
Her life was organized and planned to very last detail. The only events missing off her list were Marriage and Babies. She had no interest. Never did and never would. At the few weddings she had attended, she had at least once caught the bouquet. And was then taunted with the expectation to be next up the aisle saying "I do". She avoided attending such ceremonies again. Deep down inside she could not deal with watching something she would never have. And the reminder of how happy weddings did not mean happy marriages and parents. In her head she saw such events as pointless.
She lived alone and liked it that way. Her weekends consisted of her sitting at home sipping wine and eating chocolate with the occasional shopping trip. She hated romantic chick flicks as they all ended the same and liked to read a good thriller book. She was always on time and constantly looked her best. Her apartment was decorated stylishly with light colours that made it spacious and welcoming. Photos were hung around her living room in elegant frames. None of those pictures contained her mother Renee or her father Charles. She never phoned them and never sent them cards. To the outside world this seemed harsh. In reality it was the best thing for her.
-xox-
Bella closed the door quietly behind her and hung her coat up on the rack. She wiped her small feet on the mat and made sure to take off her shoes before laying one foot on the carpet. Mother never did like dirt. She made her way to the kitchen where said Mother was waiting.
"Isabella. What time did I say before you left?"
"Half past seven Mother"
Renee Swan pointedly fixed her gaze on the clock on the wall before turning to face her only daughter she considered a disgrace.
"I believe you are late Isabella"
Bella frowned and look down at the watch on her wrist. She was indeed late, but only by a couple of minutes.
"Only a little" she replied quietly. Bella hated how she sounded so weak, so vulnerable.
Renee slammed her glass on the counter making Bella jump. It was then she noticed her father Charlie who liked to be called Charles was seated at the table in silence. Seemingly oblivious to the whole display.
"When I set you a time Isabella I expect you to obey that time and to arrive at that time!"
As Renee's voice rose, Bella became increasingly nervous, aware of her Mother's temper.
"I'm sorry Mother. It won't happen again"
"You make sure it won't!"
Renee picked up her wine glass, sipped the remaining liquid and purposely let the glass slip through her fingers and crash to the floor. Fragments flew across the ground, creating a pool of sharp daggers at her feet.
"Oh dear Isabella. This mess will not clean itself up"
Bella widened her eyes at her mother who merely smirked at her expression and proceeded to leave the kitchen and the broken glass she had left. Her father Charlie, sat and watched as his daughter picked each up piece up, even when she cut her finger. He said nothing. He never did.
-xox-
Bella shook her head as she tried to remove the memory from her mind. It took her a while to be able to sip wine from a glass without wincing. But that didn't matter now and the image of that moment ended.
Bella Swan was never the type to dwell on memories or events that included her parents.
