Author's Note: Thank you lovely people for all your reviews.
If the spell was removed why she is still clumsy? Post suppression spell Bella is not ridiculously clumsy. I touched on this only subtly in the first chapter. She only appeared to be clumsy/china doll in order to present a damsel in distress persona to draw Edward in by making him the Knight in shinning armor.
huinsutt99 – You're on my wave length. )
I could always do with a beta reader. If you're interest let me know.
Disclaimer: The Twilight universe belongs to S.M.
CHAPTER 3 – Junkie
Not long after I left Myra in the woods everything turned to crap. The nausea had started, crippling me as my stomach cramped and bile raced to met my uvula, only for me to swallow it back down again.
It was a losing battle that soon had me embracing the porcelain toilet like it was my greatest friend in the whole wide world, which admittedly at this moment it was. I was sitting on the floor with my cheek resting on the toilet seat when Charlie found me when he came back from work, poking his head inside the open bathroom door.
"You alright Bella?" Concern etching his features.
I groaned in the negative.
"Do you need to see a doctor?"
Absolutely not. What could I possibly tell them? I'm sick because I'm detoxing from the effects of supernatural Percocet that comes in a special glittery bottle. I don't think so. I also had no idea what type of results any tests might yield if they decided to give me any. Would they pick up that I was something other? Too risky.
"No" I groaned, "it's just some stomach bug that's been going around." I lied, hoping Charlie would leave it at that.
"Oh, okay. Anything can I get for you?"
"Water. Lots of water." Yes, the only option I had now thanks to effing Myra. I was most likely in dire need of fluids now anyway. I had evacuated any remaining contents from my stomach, and was now only dry retching. I hate that shit. I'd rather throw up water than gag on air. My stomach muscles ached double time from the effort.
"And a bucket." I added as an afterthought.
I had started to notice chills running through me even though I was sweating profusely, and my heart felt like it was going a million miles an hour and was about to sprint out of my chest. I wanted to try and find comfort in my bed rather than spending the night curled up on the hard cold tiled bathroom floor.
"Okay kiddo, be back in a minute." He said as he disappeared down the stairs.
I didn't even try and stand. I knew it would only make my head spin, so instead I slowly plodded along on all fours across the hallway to my bedroom. I heaved myself up with a groan onto my mattress and under the covers. I vaguely remember Charlie entering with a large bottle of water and a laundry bucket before my world went fuzzy and I lost myself to a night full of technicolour nightmares or hallucinations – I'm not sure which.
If the first day of detox had me thinking I was dying, then the second day made me believe I had passed through all of the first seven circles of Hell, slowly.
I don't remember really being ever truly awake or asleep, but constantly somewhere in between. However it is what detoxing did to my senses that made me believe I was being tortured. Everything was too loud, too bright, and too scratchy. It was like someone running their fingernails down a chalkboard while flashing a strobe light in my face as they tickled me with a steel wool scourer. I was so overstimulated my body felt like it was constantly on the verge of shutdown but just couldn't find a way to turn itself off.
Even more disturbing than the physical effects where the psychological ones. The real me, the Bella that relied on logic, information and maturity was in a battle of wills against the junkie within me, the Bella that thought of nothing else than getting her next fix and ending all this pain and suffering.
There were some particularly deranged moments where I found myself wondering if it was only a direct hit from their breath that had an opiate effect or whether I could get the same results from inhaling their scent in general. I cursed myself for my haste in changing the sheets on my bed that still carried Edward's scent. I then cursed myself for even thinking that before contemplating whether I should attempt a trip down the stairs in my woozy condition to retrieve them from the laundry despite the high risk of personal injury. Sick. Sick. Sick.
Unfortunately, the flu excuse only lasted for the four days of my excruciating detox period. While I was no longer nauseated and achy, my body needed at least a month to relearn how to make its own natural happy chemicals. I consequently found myself in a near zombie state of depression. There were no highs, but there also were no lows. My life was a monotone flat line without variation, and I was desperate just to feel, to experience some real emotion just to know I was still alive.
Charlie had started to become worried, pushing the need to seek medical attention more and more. So while I was loathed to do it, I gave him the only justification I could to get him off my back and told him that my moroseness was the result of finally realising that my breakup with Edward was real, and that he was never coming back.
Eventually this excuse was accepted by the general populous as the reason behind the bulk of my weird behaviour. To everyone but me, my lack of appetite was not because I was going through drug withdrawal but a result of heartbreak. My inability to listen to music or watch television was not from sensory issues but a result of heartbreak. Not being able to stand hearing Edward's or the Cullen's name was not because I hated that it invoked the need to snort a vampire – no, it was heartbreak. And the way I would cross my arms and tuck my hands under my armpits was not to hide the telltale tremors of my addiction; no, it was to stop myself falling apart from heartbreak.
I was ambivalent about how effortlessly this excuse was accepted. Part of me rejoiced that it was so easy for me to hide what was really happening, and that most people preferred to leave me well enough alone, not asking too many questions. On the other hand I was pissed. Did people really believe that I was so pathetic and weak that I would give up who I was so completely for a boy?
Apparently, they did.
It was currently Friday night, one month to the day since my last hit of vampire crack. Seeing as I was so successfully alienating all my school friends, and hadn't yet pressed Charlie to engage in our daddy daughter dates, he thought he would encourage some social bonding by inviting the Black men over for football and pizza. I was busy being a patty pooper up in my room when I heard the front doorbell heralding their arrival.
"Bells." Charlie yelled up the stairs in a tone the brooked no argument.
I trudged down stairs, ready to inflict my currently monotone personality on our poor unsuspecting guests.
I turned into the kitchen where Charlie and Billy were busy stacking their plates with pizza, and Jacob awaited me with a big bright smile that engulfed his young face. His expression was loaded with obvious expectation. I was going to have to tell him that with the two-year age difference it just wasn't going to happen. It wasn't entirely his fault of course, I had somewhat encouraged it.
Some months ago I had used my womanly charms to find out just how aware the Quileute's were of the Cullen's true nature. Jake had told me some of the tribe's secret legends while walking along the beach. Apparently their ancestors were very good at Chinese Whispers and were right on the money, although no one seemed to truly believe the old tales in this age of science. Seeing as it didn't appear that they would blow my cover I had just filed the episode away as a step in the mission, but now it seemed to be coming back to bite me in the arse.
"Hey Bella, how have you been?"
"I'm fine. You?" I answered nonchalantly, as I grabbed an empty plate and made way over to the table, sorting through the boxes until I found my favourite.
"Nothing to complain about."
"Good to hear." I said as I leaned over the box to take a whiff of the pizza.
I know it was an odd habit, but I never ate anything without sniffing if first. It had become a long established tradition from Renee's cooking days. If the combination of odours was weird, I knew to proceed with extreme caution. The scents of sausage meat, tomato sauce, cheese, basil, sandalwood and a touch of vanilla assaulted my nostrils. Wait, why did my pizza smell like sandalwood and vanilla? Those idiots at the pizza parlour better not of spilt something on my dinner.
I picked up a piece of pizza and held it right under my nose and took in another large draw of air. This time only the sausage, tomato and cheese where the most prevalent scents. Strange.
I placed my pizza on plate and turned to grab a soda. I noticed Jacob just standing at the table looking at me with an amused smirk on his boyish face.
"What?"
"What are you doing?" he asked, with a slight shake of his head.
"I thought the pizza smelled funny."
"Funny, how?"
"I don't know, just… funny." I said, looking at my dinner with confusion.
He chuckled and leaned over me and inhaled. Suddenly the smell of basil, sandalwood and vanilla invaded my senses completely, causing an incredibly pleasant tingly sensation to creep through my body starting from my toes.
Whoa! So the incredibly yummy smell was Jacob. I took another deep breath. This time it made my lady parts throb. Holy shit!
"Smells fine to me," Jacob said, leaning back.
"Yeah, fine." Fine, indeed.
What the hell was going on with me? I liked Jacob, I did. He was a nice boy – boy here being the operative word. Though… I had to admit he was a good-looking guy. He was nice and tall, with a kind face, bright endearing smile, smooth russet skin, well-formed slimline muscles, dark smouldering eyes that could see into the depths of my soul. I wonder if he's proportionate?
Oh. My. God. Bella! You did not just think that about little Jacob Black I scolded myself.
I bet not so little.
This was getting out of hand. I should not be thinking these things. As far as I was concerned thoughts of him and me wanting to play with myself in response to those thoughts should be mutually exclusive, but at this moment they so… weren't.
I suddenly didn't know how to act around him and I didn't trust myself to be appropriate, so made my escape into the lounge room. I had the errant thought that it just might be a Quileute thing, so I made sure to take a good whiff of Billy as I passed by. He only smelt like pine, malt and musk, which thank God was in no way arousing because that would have just been disturbing.
I had to conclude it was just a Jake thing, but I couldn't be sure without a larger sample size, but it's not like I could go down to the rez and just sniffing their male population. Well, actually… No! No, I couldn't do that.
Jake joined me on the other end of the couch with his plate stacked with at least five pieces of pizza. We sat a both pretended to watch the game, but it was obvious neither of us where really into it. I tried on several occasions to start conversation, but I just didn't know what to say as my mind kept drifting off on naughty tangents every time I inhaled. Luckily Jacob didn't seem to be having a mini-meltdown like me and rescued me from the highly inappropriate word vomit that would surely come out of my mouth as the evening progressed.
"So, what do you do for fun?"
"Read."
"That doesn't sound very exciting." He scoffed.
I guess not. "I most probably need to get out more." I conceded.
"Well, if you ever get board you could always come help me with my rabbit."
I frowned. "That your pet?" Unless we put it on a track with a couple of greyhounds I failed to see how that would be overly entertaining.
He burst out laughing. "No, it's a car. I'm in the middle of rebuilding the engine."
All coherent thought went out of my mind when images of Jake shirtless and covered in grease entered my mind. STOP! I screamed at myself. I shouldn't be thinking about him that way, he was just a kid.
That said, I couldn't deny how his scent made me feel, and I realised it was the first natural chemical reaction I'd had since my detox other than pain. If vampires were a type of depressant than Jake must be some sort of stimulant, and I was curious to find out why. I assured myself that as long as I kept on reminding myself that he was just like a little brother and nothing more, I'd be fine.
"Okay, sounds like fun."
"Really?" he said obviously excited. I was going to have to tread lightly, make sure he understood we were just friends.
"Yeah, why don't I come round tomorrow?"
"That would be great."
I was obviously a glutton for punishment, but at least it broke up the current monotony of my withdrawal.
