I can see his brown curly hair in front of me, it's shaggy and probably just washed from this morning. He's sitting one row off my right and two desks up from me. I know in a moment or two he's going to laugh. His loud, boisterous and catching laugh, and I know that I'm going to hate him for it. He'll lean into the silky blonde head beside him and whisper some kind of cocky innuendo, and she'll slap him daintily on his toned arm and fake chagrin and then, he'll laugh. Just loud enough so it rips through every part of me. Fucking bastard.
I want to scream it at him, I want to hit him, hard, over and over again. I know that it wouldn't hurt him. He doesn't give a fuck about me, I don't exist in Emmet McCarthy's world. I was a mistake, a lapse in judgment that he's forgotten about, no one knows about, will never know about. Because I love him enough to leave him his pride. I love him enough to sit back and watch as Rosalie Hale becomes his source of affection. And I pretend that Emmet McCarthy doesn't exist in my world.
I feel sick and dirty in this classroom, while I sit against the wall gazing at the pupils in this shit hole known as Forks High home of the fucking Spartans. I burn holes in the chalk board as the chalk scrapes against it. Ms. Lowndes is writing notes on Anthropology and I can tell the board hasn't been washed in about a month. I pretend my neck can't turn to the side and I'm deaf in one ear. 'He doesn't exist, it didn't happen', that's a fucked up mantra, and it doesn't work.
I want to leave, to get out of this room, my own personal hell. But I'm stuck here for the next 45 minutes. 'Charles Manson was a psychopath", I want to laugh but that would draw attention to me. This is an actual fucking credit? I can hear Ms. Lowndes dragging in the trolley for the TV, why is it that everyone has a loose wheel? She asks me to plug it into the wall for her as she smiles with her wrinkled face, all bunched up at the sides. I guess even with her self help books from the 80's she can still tell when someone's a little pissed off. I push my chair from my desk, and it scrapes against the flour. Fuck. Noise. And I can feel people's eyes on me, even if I'm just in the far, far corner of them.
Most of all I can feel his eyes on me. Fuck him. I know he's trying to pretend that he doesn't actually see me, brown eyes looking at the screen that I happen to be heading towards. He doesn't REALLY see me, if his eyes happen to be draw to a moving subject then it's merely just coincidence that it happened to be me he sees. Rosalie can tell that she's lost his attention so she laughs all sweetly, and he laughs with her, louder, so I can hear? So I know just how happy he is now? I try to understand what could be so fucking comical that their laughter can fill up every space in my head, pushing and smothering every thought that I have. And then I realize it. It's me.
I'm the fucking joke. Poor, sad, lonely, depressed Edward Cullen. Faggy boy couldn't accept Emmet's rejection. "I thought we were friends, but he just didn't get it guys. He tried to kiss me and everything!" Those were his words more or less to my friends of 3 years, the ones whom I thought supported and loved me. It just took those 2 sentences for them to get freaked out, label me the freak and leave me the freak alone. Not one of them talked to me after words. Well Alice tried, but I was too in shock of what he told them to deny anything. I plugged the TV in and walked to my desk, alone.
I would have moved to the front, closer to the screen with my friends, well the people who were my friends, but now I'm forced to sit here... unaccompanied.
I can hear snickering behind me, my ears prick up and I can't help but shift to hear who it's coming from. Of course, Lauren Mallory was right behind me. Lauren, Jessica and Angela. It can be assumed that people like me would be taboo in a small town, or just hidden very well. Being what I am is shameful and disgusting. According to Father Jacob, I am wrong. It's just the beginning of the school year and I can already predict what it's going to be like.
Why bother speaking if you don't even exist?
**
So here's a chapter from Edward life atm Jasper hasn't arrived yet he's currently traveling in a moving truck. Reviews are awesome, they let me know if I'm making sense/ writing well, or writing something worth continuing. The chapters will be longer, I just wanted to get them out there and gain some interest. On that note my AN's won't be soo flipping long
