A/N Hey all. So this is chapter 2. I don't have a fixed time and day of updating the following chapters, but I will try to update as often as I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter. At the moment things may be abit confusing, but I promise it will all make sense once Edwards POV is introduced. Please share your thoughts.
Thank you to Fran for helping with the edits:-)
DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO STEPHANIE MEYER
Chapter 2
BPOV
8 years ago
"Give it back!" I yelled, out of breath and trembling lips.
"Catch me if you can, Bella Swan." The boy with seasonal grey eyes and a mop of chocolate brown haircontinued to ruin my life.
"I hate you Edward Cullen! I hate you!" My raging voice was evidence of the amount of dislike I felt towards my brother's best friend. Wiping my tears angrily, I dashed towards trouble and tried to grab my diary from out his reach.
"Give it back!" I yelled, again and again and again.
"Whoa…relax your slacks, Princess Bellarina." Edward held up his arms with my diary in his left hand, displaying a wicked grin. I began punching him in the stomach while he dodged my attempt at payback.
"Dear diary…today…" He began to read, failing to mimic the sound of irritation and squeaky girls complaining.
I continued the persistent punching-pulling-poking, hoping he would let go, but this boy didn't know how to give up.
He never knew when to stop because boundaries never existed in his world.
So Operation Plan B consisted of me climbing onto my bed, floral sheets and teddies-galore. I jumped onto his back from behind, causing him to spin around in circles, voluntarily.
With dimples and snickers and the sound of a venomous addiction, I could no longer see clearly as this boy brought me to life without me even knowing it.
After several failed attempts at reclaiming my precious book, the one that held more secrets than any ten-year-oldshould possess, my shared gene came whistling into my room, smirking and infuriating.
"What's going on in here? I could hear you screaming from the downstairs bathroom." Benji looked around and averted his gaze to Edward's occupied hand.
My brother was a year older than Edward, but his twelve-year old voice still sounded childlike and innocent, unlike his best friend. Everything about Edward was changing, his voice, his face, his temper. This boy was heading somewhere, and I wasn't sure if it was in the right direction.
"Your friend just came into my room and grabbed my book while I was writing. He's ruining my life!" I sulked, still trying to grab my diary.
"Milo, leave Bella alone, she's a baby." Ben teased, as he exited my room. I never ever found out the real reason why Benji called his best friend, the name Milo.
Escaping my stupid thoughts, I gave Edward another punch on his shoulder. He walked to my bed and jumped down, squashing me beneath his back.
"Choke Slam!" He roared, sneering.
"Get off of me!" I screamed seriously loud this time.
"Tap out…Tap out Princess Bellarina?" Edwards's playful chuckles did little to sooth my panicking emotions.
With a rapid beating heart, I called out. "Tap! Tap!" And just like that, he was up and heading towards the hallway. Even though I was left short-breathed and angry and forever his toy to toss, I jumped up with determination and purpose, continuing my mission of reclaiming my book.
If I can recall correctly, most of the writings consisted of middle childhood complaints. My diary was my safe place of expression. Although the pages were filled with words of hatred towards a boy who existed everywhere I breathed, it was also surrounded by borders of hearts and flowers, pink pens and smiley face stickers of hope.
"Please? Give it back?" I ran after him, pulling his arm, the one that still held my diary.
Finally, Edward dropped it to the floor. Before he exited my bedroom, my eleven-year-old nemesis strode towards the door and whispered, "One day I'll find out what you wrote in that dumb diary, Bella Swan."
I rolled my eyes and cursed in my mind.
I hated him.
I still do.
Present
"Oh dear Lord, do you really think they're back?" My mom's expression is all kinds of anxious as she paces back and forth, peeping through the living room blinds at the commotion taking place next door.
This woman is restless and bothered, and totally unprepared for the Cullens'possible return.
"Why I don't know honey, we have to pray for these answers." My dad says, reading the paper and responding to my mother's inquisitions.
"Do you think if it is them, that they will be back for good? I wonder why Billy didn't say anything about moving out of their house." Rene, concerned, keeps questioning aloud and I wish she would stop.
"Maybe I should walk by and ask what this is all about? I think we have the right to know considering theyjust packed up and left three years ago." My dad, sitting proud and graciously, loves being the bearer of news.
Well done, Pastor.
"No! You will certainly not, Charles. Isabella, please go and set the table for lunch."
"Yes, Ma," I say unconsciously, jumping out of my seat. My mother wants to say something and this is exactly why she asked me to leave the room. They know as well as I do that along withthe Cullens come memories … Memoriesof my deceased brother and maybe-definitely-completely more than I wish to recall.
Walking through to the kitchen, I remove the cutlery from its holder and walk towards the dining room. My heart is beating uncontrollably inside my chest and these four walls that surround me do nothing to make me feel safe.
"Knife, fork, spoon-" I repeat my mantra, pushing-shoving my thoughts about the Cullens back into my unconscious.
Because could they really be back?
Several minutes later, my assigned duty is complete. "The table's set, Mom, Dad." I murmur, masking my emotions with an upright curved lip. My Mom is still peeping through the drapes with her hand placed over her heart, gawking and gazing.
I wish I possessed the courage to tell her to stop, but that fearless girl no longer exists inside of me.
Swallowing deeply, I turn around and run up to my bedroom, which happens to face the side of the Cullens' house and years before it meant everything to me. I think I should sneak in a quick peek, but what will I get from doing that?
Contentment? No.
Satisfaction? No.
Guilt? I don't know.
As I reach my window, I hear my father's voice. "Isabella, come and join us." I hesitate, and at this moment, I'm fighting a battle between heaven and hell. My father's voice is the light at the end of this tunnel, but what breathes out of my window is more.
More.
"Isabella, we're waiting on you." The pastor's voice grows impatient as it travels all the way up the stairs down the hallway and into my room.
Continuing to approach my window, closer-closer-closer, I take a deep. "Okay, Dad," I call out, turning around a mere footstep before the frame of my window forms the perfect portrait of my figure.
Because heaven won this battle.
I jog down the stairs and take a seat at a table that is supposed to seat four people and not three. My father holds out his hand, waiting to say Grace. Our fingers touch and our hands connect, but this feeling isn't enough. The air lingers with surprise and mistrust, and I know exactly why.
I am still the broken girl mourning for her brother, and pining for his best friend.
Please don't be back, Edward?
As my father clears his throat, I jump in my seat, startled by his annoyance. He displays a gloomy glare and something tells me this isn't because I am late for lunch. Charlie Swan is going crazy because his perfect daughter isn't smiling, as she should be.
"Heavenly Father, I thank you for the food you have blessed us with and for the hands that prepared it. I thank you for all our blessings and I pray for more to come as we continue to praise and worship in your mercy-." Charlie continues to pray as I peep through my heavy eyelids. My mother is nodding her head in prayer as the emotions on my father's face matches the passion in his voice.
"We pray today to continue to receive your blessings. We pray that all those who do not deserve to be in our lives, may they find happiness elsewhere. In your holy name Lord Jesus, Amen."
With some 'Amens' and 'Hallelujahs,' the picture perfect family digs into roast chicken and vegetables cooked to precision. My parents aren't bad people. In fact, they are too good to be considered anything else. They live by the book and sometimes it becomes too much for me to handle.
It is exhausting acting as the perfect daughter when I am far from perfect. I have no excuse to maintain my constant internal bitterness. I guess I use God to help me deal because I know that nobody else can, nobody besides the boy who once lived next door.
My brother always understood me. Sure, we argued and sometimes bickered, but that was okay.
When Benji passed away, I had nobody but his best friend. My parents never ever accepted his death, choosing to turn to the Lord when their bereavement failed. I on the other, fifteen and hopeless, turned to things that helped me cope.
I turned to trouble.
I know, to some extent that Edward saw me as Benji's replacement. We were functioning in limbo as we searched for our mutual person. During the two years following Ben's death, Edward and I grew closer.
We grew dependent.
We grew searching.
We grew complete.
Although we somehow had each other, my brother's best friend needed more. Sometimes I think that he got into all those fights because it made him feel, and other times I think it was just because he lived a life without any limitations.
Edward was free and that is exactly why he was also lost. Our friendship was destined and expected, and then he left. He was the boy who didn't give a shit about the ground that he walked on. He spat out of windows and littered on grass. Edward Cullen cussed like a captain and coming home with bloody knuckles and swollen lips were second nature to him.
I won't ever blame him for his explosive behaviour, but I do, however, question his parents' failing ability at caregiving. Being the son of a defense lawyer, he sure had no regard for rules.
Whether it was because of the trouble that existed in his behaviour, or whether it was because his parents finally realised that their only son needed some serious help, God could never control him and that is why I believe they left.
So one day, when I was fifteen and fearless, surviving but never living and climbing over familiar white fences, he was gone.
Their house was locked up, vacated, and they never came back.
I called, I texted, I emailed, I stalked, but something told me theCullens didn't want to be found.
And to this day, I know that my brother's best friend was made for another world altogether.
My parents were gutted when they found out that the Cullenspacked up and left without a word. I was just officially broken. Without a sound, they vanished.
I knew I couldn't save Edward from where he was heading. I loved him, I trusted him, and I looked up to him, but my intentions were never to help him.
As that familiar scratchy feeling surfaces into my throat, I chew-chew-chew on carrot sticks and ignore the thoughts that are currently haunting me.
Once upon a time, I was unprepared for the millions of questions, disappointments, loss, heart-breaking outbursts, tears and useless wondering. But today I am okay. I have God on my side and no longer the devil himself.
So looking up to my father, I smile, empty longing, and play the happy daughter that I was always supposed to be.
"This is delicious, thanks to my wonderful girls for this blessed meal." Charlie smiles in between bites. The pastor is suit and tie and Sunday lunch pretending-happy.
"You're welcome Charles. It was made with love." My mother's fragile voice fails to hide her worry, and even though we are all seated around the table, our attention is next door.
I take another forkful, blocking the voices of the two people who care for me. They never mention Benji, not in casual conversation and neither in their prayers. The people who raised me live and deny and I guess that isn't okay anymore.
"So what do you think about it?" Rene directs her attention towards me, breaking up my thoughts.
"Ex…excused me, Ma?" I'm biting lips and interrupted.
"What do you think about the moving truck next door?" She lifts her eyebrow, waiting for an answer I'm not so sure how to give.
Shaking my head, I respond, "Well…I don't know."
"There is the newest Mercedes parked outside of that house. Only a Cullen would drive such a classy car." My mother's voice is bitter-broken as she points towards nothing really.
"Bella, they left three years ago. You know that right?" My father hisses.
Suddenly, the attention is directed towards me. They're asking me questions that I am unprepared for and then I am that girl again.
The one who needs saving.
"Yeah, Dad, I know." Keeping my eyes on my fork, I play with my food and I'm suddenly no longer hungry.
"So if it is them, you won't go running back next door, will you?"
Feeling tired of this game; I stand up and take a deep breath. I need to leave this table and regain my strength.
"May I please be excused?" I question, deep breaths and straitening my summer dress.
"Finish your food dear." My father states, his eyes daring me to differ.
"I'm not hungry."
"Sit, Isabella. You need to allow us to help you if you have any feelings of insecurity."
Stepping back, I finally speak out, loud but not proud. "So what if he is back! I can handle it!" Biting back my tears, I rush out of the dining room mumbling that I am sorry.
Kicking off my shoes, I jump onto my bed, barefoot and breathless and maybe a little bit dramatic.
"Don't cry…don't cry…" I keep repeating those words in my head. But soon enough, the hurt that resides in my heart needs its release. So turning to face my window, I cry just as I did three years ago.
"Damn you Edward Cullen!" I yell into sheets, punching my hands against my pillow.
At this moment, I am weak and vulnerable. I need someone who is strong and fierce. Only that person doesn't exist in my life anymore.
However, I do what I always do. Grabbing my phone, I dial the only number I wish I could forget.
My actions are pointless and worthless. I know what comes next, but this very decision provides me with at least some comfort.
The answering machine on the other end of the line welcomes me with a beep. Because, "the number you have dialedno longer exists."
With wet cheeks and biting nails, I lay on my bed missing a boy who was never supposed to leave me alone in this world. He didn't just leave this town; it felt like he died too.
As I close my eyes, my heart begins to beat back into happy memories. Where trouble existed and when I could actually smile even when I cried.
Edward was never mine to keep. I should have known that since the day I met him. I hated him more than I loved him and the only thing we had in common was our shared connection with one person who no longer walks on this earth. We had no other choice the day we turned to each other, hurting and hating together.
I guess we breathed life into each other when we felt alone and misunderstood. The thing is, losing a sibling, a best friend, is never easy. Days, weeks, months and years later, my heart still breaks whenever I think about Benji. But the thrill I got from hanging out with his best friend following his death eased some of that pain.
Trouble making and lost-insecure-innocent, we were supposed to conquer this world together.
But people always leave.
And then sometimes, they come back.
6 years ago.
"Edward? Benji? Where are you guys?" I called, walking around Edward's house to their pool area. It was my twelfth birthday and I wanted to know why my brother and his best friend left my party, considering they were the only boys who I invited.
"Shhh…" With whispers and giggles, I located my brother and my mental tormenter.
"Hey!" I said, stepping into the wooden shed that the Cullens' used as a garden supply storage in their back yard.
"B-Bella…" Benji stuttered, his eyes too big and too guilty. I glanced towards him, lifting up my eyebrow as I tried to place the pieces of this puzzle before me.
Edward was smirking in the corner with his hands behind his back. Not paying him much attention, I continued to question my brother with my gaping glare.
"What's going on? What are you guys doing in here?"
"Uh…we're just looking for- we're looking for …" Benji was a really bad liar.
"Looking for what?" I interrupted.
The sound of Edward's chuckles caused me to avert my gaze to him with irritation plastered on my face.
And then, to my surprise, Edward revealedhis hidden hand that held a cigarette between his left fingers.
"What! You're smoking?" I shrieked in disbelief.
"No, Bellarina, we're experimenting!" Edward retaliated.
"Why'd you show her Milo? Now she's going to go tattle tale!" My brother looked angry, and then stormed out of the shed.
Of course, I followed behind him.
"Benji, wait up!"
"Go away, Bella."
"Benji, why did you smoke? It's bad! Mom always said that you should stay away from things that can cause more harm to your heart." I quickly caught up with him. My brother was a smooth talker but a slow walker.
He had no other choice.
"We were just trying it out! You always have to ruin everything Bella."
"But- but it's my birthday," I whispered, beginning to cry.
Benji flipped me the finger and rushed over the fence. This time, I stayed behind to process the blame.
"You're another year older, so start acting like it," Edward came up behind me, saying things that made my chest hurt.
"I hate you! You're officially uninvited to my birthday you ugly smoker!" I yelled, jerking around as light grey eyes were left with smiles of satisfaction.
Climbing over the fence that I wish was high enough to block Edward out of my life; I experienced a sharp pain in my stomach and shouted out in horror.
"Oww…" I rested both my arms around my stomach, allowing this pain a minute or two to subside.
"Bella, your pants are red." Edward came up behind me.
Again.
"Wha-what?" I asked, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.
"You're bleeding; your pants are fucking red." He whispered, pointing towards my butt.
Trying to check, I felt mortified as Edward began laughing at me.
"You got your period? On your birthday?" With white teeth laughing, I wanted the rip the shaggy hair off his skull.
"Go away!" I screamed as loud as I could. This time, my parents came running out looking panicked, as they crowded me with their concern.
"Bella, what's going on? Edward what did you do to her?" Charlie asked, his voice traveling from soothing to stern.
I continued to cry as I sat holding my stomach on his side of the fence. The sounds surrounding me were blocked out with my muffled cry. Soon after that, all my friends and family knew that I was the girl who got her first period on her birthday.
What started with innocent tears for a kid who enjoyed teasing me, turned into tears of heartbreak for a boy who hurt my heart.
Present
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Shifting abruptly, I place my palms on cotton sheets and whip my head, searching for my phone.
I have no idea how long I've been asleep, but it's dark and I guess this day is over.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
This sound is a killer and I need it to stop. Sighing, I locate my phone on my bedside table. The bright light has Mike's goofy face plastered all over the screen.
"Hello?" I'm scratchy throats and drowsy.
"Hi, Isabella, how are you feeling? Are you still feeling ill?" My whipped boyfriend breathes worry and something tells me my mom is responsible for his concern.
"I'm okay thanks. How are you?"
"I'm okay. I popped around earlier, but your mom said you aren't feeling too well. I'm just calling to check up. You need anything, Baby?" Mike is all kind of perfect, and again, I feel guilty.
"No! I mean…I mean no, I'm okay." My tone immediately changes from desperation to fake-calm.
"Okay, well I guess I'll see you at Bible study tomorrow evening?"
"Yeah…yeah you will." I close my eyes, already dreading the thought of tomorrow.
After some meaningless chats, I hang up my phone and walk towards my closet. Grabbing my neatly placed pyjamas, I head to my bathroom.
Stepping out of my yellow-creased sundress, I take a deep breath and allow my eyes to travel up my reflection until it hits my face. Puffy cheeks and plump lips, I'm tired hazel eyes and empty-blank-unfilled.
My light brown hair hangs loosely around my shoulders, ending at the middle of my back. I am short and tanned and just turned eighteen. There is nothing abnormal about the visibleimage lurking before me. What calls for concern is the hurt that resides beneath my perfect façade.
I am certainly not the girl I was when Edward left. Now I am curves and breasts and past the awkward stage of crushes and puberty.
I unclasp my strapless bra and slide off my frilly boy shorts that are the only womanly clothing items I own. My pearl earrings are neatly placed on the table that I use as a make-up station, and now I'm bare. The girl who stares back at me is unscratched from the outside. My skin, smooth and absent of all scars hides the pain I feel inside. I appear undamaged and that is what I want them to think.
But the truth is, I am far from innocent. I was saved by God, but I still have memories that haunt my mind. Realising that these thoughts are unnecessary and a no-go zone, I pinch the bridge of my nose and then disappear from the world I wish I could just forget.
I'm back to reality and stepping into the shower. The warm droplets of liquid run down my body and I can finally breathe. From washing my hair to drying my body, I pull my satin nightdress over my head and cover my figure with my robe.
After my nightly ritual is complete, I walk over to my desk to retrieve my iPod and place gospel-praising lyrics into my ears.
My tummy grumbles and I guess that I am hungry. So barefoot and wet hair, I make my way downstairs as I sing along to the music that makes me feel alive.
As I turn the corner, eyes fixed on my playlist and ears occupied with buds, I lift up my head and everything in my world just begins to spin.
Because seated on the cream, leather sofa, pencil skirted and high heeled, is Esme Cullen.
I gasp.
She gasps.
We all gasp.
I want to swear-cry-laugh, because why is this woman who I once regarded as my other mother seated in my lounge in my house?
I don't remove my ear buds. In fact, I don't think I move. I am staring while she is waiting. There are no signs of welcoming laughter lingering in the air. And suddenly, what am I doing?
My legs are glued to the bottom step and her butt seems to be glued to the sofa. With light smiles and disbelief, the woman who gave birth to trouble cannot believe that this is me three years later.
Although there is music pumping into my ear, I avert my gaze towards my mother. The scowl on her face whispers words I know but cannot hear.
So gripping onto the staircase, I remove one-two ear buds, and I take a deep breath. I know he isn't here, but his mother definitely is.
Esme blinks-stands-stalks while I just stumble-stare-breathe.
Breathe.
"Isabella, come and say hello to Esme." Those very words that left my mother's lips just confirmed my truth.
Because the Cullens are, finally back.
I step away from the staircase, trying my best to compose my unsteady posture. This woman hasn't aged one bit. She's still the method in every madness. Free spirited and loving, I know she is just as surprised as I am.
So, I walk-walk-walk, until we are three feet apart, her scent is familiar, homey and heavenly, and welcomes me like a moth to a flame. And then, before I know it, I am stepping into her embrace.
The woman who did a bad job at parenting whispers, "Hello" and "I missed you" into my ear. And her voice alone is the best gospel music I've heard in a very long time.
"Hi," I whisper, finding interest on the ground beneath me.
"Wow…Look at you." Esme murmurs, placing her hand on my shoulders as she takes in my presence.
I lied … She did change. Her cheeks are fuller and her voice is free from all vulgarity.
I feel crazy-stupid-weak because I can't find the words that are supposed to leave my mouth. Esme goes back to sitting, as the lemon tea that I know she hates grows cold on the glass coffee table.
I take a seat next to her, remaining barefoot with wet hair.
My father is a no show, and with three bodies and three pairs of eyes, this room has never felt more crowded.
"Bella…you look absolutely amazing. God…I mean gosh I missed you." She's searching for the right words to say under my mother's intense glare.
Suddenly overcome with a kick of courage I blurt out, "You're back?"
Troubles mother nods. "Yes. We're back for a while. Carlisle landed a contract with the Juvenile Detention Centre in Lakeside so we all decided to relocate to be closer to him."
"Oh." I gesture with understanding, but wondering who the 'we' is.
"So how have you been Bella? Your mom tells me that you have one more semester left as a senior. Any plans for college?"
I stumble on my thoughts, trying to remember when the last time someone called me Bella. Taking a deep breath, I say, "I was accepted at ULC."
"That's great. And it's close by."
I nod, and the silence in the room grows all kinds of uncomfortable.
My mother opens up her mouth, voicing words I cannot comprehend. I find myself staring at the diamond ring on her finger, and my gaze averts to the set of keys placed carelessly on the glass table.
There is a picture frame key ring with a little girl placed on the front. Removing the keys, I lift it up and gape in wonder.
"Oh, that's the latest picture of Emily. She's almost seven now. She says she remembers you." Esme smiles as she talks about her only daughter who isn't a toddler anymore.
"She's beautiful," I whisper, hating myself for pointing out all the similarities this little girl shares with her big brother.
"Isabella, why don't you go and dry your hair? You're going to catch a cold." My mom smiles and I guess this is her way of asking me to leave.
"Okay." I nod, standing up.
"I should head back too. It's already so late. I'm sorry for just appearing on your doorstep, but I thought I should inform you that we're back."
My mother nods, and then she hugs Esme. I smile politely, and for the second time in ten minutes, I step into this woman's embrace.
"Feel free to come over whenever you like Bella." Her smooth voice trails, but what she is really trying to say is that I should come and see her son because he will never come and see me.
I nod and wave in farewell. As I watch her leave, I don't wish for her to go back, I thank God that she returned.
Because my brother's best friend is back.
With Monday morning, come a new day and a new week. It gives humans the minimal opportunity to start afresh. Monday is clean slate giving and past weeks relieving.
I hardly slept last night. I tossed and turned and tried everything not to glance out of my window. I don't know if he is there, but something tells me that I will see him.
When Edward left, I was jeans and hoodys and careless. Now, I'm a lady without much choice. I'm saved and redeemed from all prior impurities.
I'm innocent.
I take 7 a.m. showers and comb out my hair, tossing it into a neat bun above my head. I attend St. Mary's Girls High, where pleated skirts, crisp white shirts, and knee-high socks are a requirement. It is a Christian girl's school where troubled parents think they can send their troubled children.
The only right thing about this school is the absence of the male gender. Apart from that, so much more lurks beneath the cross on the chain that hangs around our necks and morning prayers in homeroom.
I leap down the stairs where the smell of welcoming, morning coffee never floats under this roof. Placed perfectly, knife and fork and centered bowel, is homemade pancakes and orange juice.
"Good morning, Isabella." Rene smiles politely, placing sweet morning kisses on my forehead. "Are you feeling a bit better?"
"Good morning, Mom." I pull out my chair and take a seat in front of my breakfast that waits to be eaten. "I guess I'm feeling better, thanks." I say, never meeting her eyes because what difference does it make if I tell her how I'm really feeling. The expressions of emotions are taboo in this household.
It's the way we deal.
"That's good. I just want you to know that I am here for you." My mother nods at her own statement.
I nod as well because what more can I do?
Charlie walks into the kitchen. He's greetings and happy and clean-shaven as always.
"Morning, Daddy." I stand up and place a meaningless kiss on his cheek. I know I'm not supposed to be this girl, but I am demotivated about this day already.
As we eat around the kitchen table as a happy family, discussing our daily plans and arrangements, my mind travels elsewhere.
"So I will be driving to Harlem County to meet up with three different foster homes." My mom explains as she speaks passionately about her job.
"Well, drive safe honey. I have two church services this morning, and then marriage classes this afternoon." Charlie continues.
"Will you be home for dinner or should we bring the meal along to the church and eat with you before Bible study tonight?" My mom questions, automatically including me into their plans as ifI have no other choice.
"I have dance practice after school. I'll only be able to get to church at six." I look up, quietly taking my stand.
"Okay…so I guess we will all go in our own cars then?" My mom tries to rationalize our daily itinerary.
"I suppose that is the best option." My dad agrees.
After breakfast, we say goodbye to Dad as he leaves for work. I rush around, packing my gym bag and then my book bag.
"Isabella, I'm leaving now, please lock up." My mom calls out.
Rushing down the stairs with my bags, I place a kiss on her cheek with whispers of "I love you."
Mom smiles and returns those meaningful words that are more of a habit than an intention in this household. Once both my parents are off to work, I take a seat at the breakfast bar and place my palms on my forehead.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, I cherish a moment that is mine alone. But reality happens and I guess it's time for me to head to school. Grabbing my keys, I leave ten minutes later than what I usually do. I know I am going to be late, but my actions are intentional.
Trouble was always late for school, and maybe that is why I am attempting my own method of delay.
Faking careless, but absolutely aware of my surroundings, I step out onto the front porch and turn around to lock the door behind me. Ahead of me is clean cut, green grass, daisy flowers and a stone pebble walkway.
Something ticks inside of me and as I experience a moment of weakness, I look to my left for as long as my heart will allow.
My heart stops and so does my steps and I'm pretty sure the earth stops moving as well. Because, can this day be for real?
To the left of me, a fence apart and ten metres in distance, is my childhood nemesis.
He doesn't see me, but I see him.
I stare,
I stalk,
I stumble.
And all it took was a couple of seconds.
Why wouldn't it?
Because of course, I would run into him the first thing on a Monday morning. God wanted this, so all I can do is accept this moment.
And still, he doesn't see me.
Tall, muscular and bruised, is Edward Cullen three years later. He is far from the boy he was when he left. I take in his appearance from the short distance. His actions are rushed and filled with annoyance.
"Emily! Hurry the fuck up!" Anger calls as he climbs into the driver's seat the latest Ford SUV that appears too polished for his imperfections.
A little girl in casual clothing comes running out, her hair is a mess, but she's determined to obey her brother's calls.
With some effort, she climbs into the back seat and not even two seconds later, he turns on the ignition and he still doesn't see me.
I wish this moment could have lasted a bit longer. Too rushed and overwhelmed, Edward backs out of their driveway and passes my house.
But before he makes it to the end of the street, he does see me. And this tiny, stolen moment of victim and tormentor who were once dependent on each other, lasts forever.
We look at each other a little too long to be considered as nothing. And I guess this is because he remembers. He remembers that we were once walking, shattered pieces of broken, who managed to make up a whole.
I realize that it is hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.
And I want to yell and scream and kick and demand to know how he could have just left like that. I also want to assure him that, for three years, I was holding my breath, waiting patiently as time went by.
However, I won't give him that satisfaction.
Edward Cullen is back to front baseballs caps, sleepy grey eyes and a swollen lip. He is angry and he doesn't want to be here right now. The look of disgust on his face as my eyes met his, just confirmed my haunting suspicions. He is presence-discovering and memories-uncovering. And I know this just by the way he looked at me, demanding my attention without flinching or voicing annoyance.
The boy that left three years ago was now a man ten feet away. He is rugged looking with a hard exterior. With a light stubble and familiar disheveled hair, nothing about this picture screams perfect.
And as I take him in, he doesn't squint his eyes or look away. This boy's glare is suffocating-intoxicating and everything that is trouble. I know this look, it's daring me to stay away but begging me to step a little closer.
He is a total contradiction of life itself and the blank expression on his face provides me with enough evidence to bet on that assumption.
But apart from all of that, Edward is dangerously charming, trouble making and disarming.
And just like before, I can see myself willingly causing my own torment, reckless and foolish.
This breathing havoc who needs to dominate in order to feel alive and in control is more powerful than ever before.
And I guess that's the thing about strength.
It feeds on weakness.
My social pariah and a painful memory just realised something.
He realized me.
A/N Thanks for reading :-) Please share your thoughts and feel free to review xx