Hi. Pyros Rule here. This one is my chapter. Hope you like it.
I woke up to the strong smell of antiseptic. I sat bolt upright, then wincing at the pain from my wounds. On the upside, my wing didn't hurt as much.
As soon as some doctor noticed I was awake, he rushed to my side. I glared at him. "Do not take another step closer."
He paused a few steps away, looking confused. Scowling, I demanded, "Why the hell am I here anyway? Wait, before you answer that, answer where I am."
"Um, you're in Forks. It's a small town in Washington. And you're here because two very nice people brought you in to get your wounds treated," he explained. "They're still waiting, actually. They're very worried about you. Would you please tell me your name?"
"Max," I said, not bothering to think of a fake name. I never did. Everyone else had their own fake names, but I always went by Max.
"Well, Max, would you explain to me more about yourself? There must be a great many differences between you and us. I'm fascinated," he confessed. This doctor wasn't making me like him. He was staring at me like I was a lab rat.
"No, I will not," I snapped. I got out of bed and stormed–well, as well as I could with a broken ankle– out the door, leaving the doctor staring after me. A girl and a man that looked like her father were sitting outside. Their eyes were wide. I limped past them, but I fell over as a flare of pain shot through my ankle and my legs gave out.
I opened my eyes. I was lying on a sofa. The people from the hospital were sitting in chairs around the room.
Ow. My wings. That hurt. I was putting too much strain on them. First Omega broke my wing, then I was on my back for who knows how long, now I was on my back again, my wings folded tightly against my spine.
The girl hurried over when she noticed my eyes were open. She smiled warmly but hesitantly at me. "Umm...hi. You must be hungry. I'll get you some pasta or something."
She looked grateful for the excuse to get out of the room. My stare must have scared her. I wonder what she would do if I gave her my death glare. I had just been looking at her. Her dad seemed just as uncomfortable.
"I'll, uh, go help Bella," he mumbled. Ah, so his daughter's name was Bella. He ran after her. A few seconds later, I heard Bella's voice, whispering sharply to her dad. A human's idea of a whisper, of course. I could hear her perfectly.
"Dad, I really think you should stay and talk to her. And don't pry about her wings," she lectured. "That's definitely going to make her uncomfortable, and doing that when you've just met her is rude."
"What do I say?" her dad protested. Bella sighed. I could picture her rolling her eyes. Or maybe it was just me who would do that. "I don't even know this girl. She is not normal. Not just the wings, but something about her is just–"
"Scary?" Bella completed. "I know that much. Just go. I need to finish this. I'll be back soon."
In a lower voice, so quietly her dad wouldn't be able to hear, but I still could, she muttered, "I need something to keep my mind off...Edward."
Who the hell is Edward? I thought. I heard Bella's dad coming back. He moved rather loudly. I sat up, careful not to move too quickly. Bella's father sat down on a chair, looking at me. He seemed at a loss for words before I asked, "Umm...where am I?"
His face brightened. "Oh, you're in Forks. I'm Charlie Swan, Bella's dad. I have a lot of questions, but I suppose they'll be a bit...uncomfortable for you to answer. If you don't mind, will you answer this one–why were you unconscious in the forest?"
I met his gaze steadily. "Since you already know about the wings...I put too much strain on a broken wing. Before you ask why I did that, I didn't know it was broken! And I'm Max."
I shuddered. I was actually doing something that terrified me almost as much as whitecoats–being polite. And–even worse–to an adult!
Charlie noticed and asked blankly, "What?"
"Oh, nothing," I said airily. Another first. We sat there for a while until Bella came back, holding a plate of pasta. She smiled nervously, and slightly sadly for some reason. Then she handed me the plate. She watched me, eyes wide and looking anxious, like she was scared I wouldn't like her cooking.
I was almost temped to tell her that I had gone through dumpsters for lunch on occasion. I had no problem with her cooking. It was actually good. I put down my fork and forced myself to smile at her. "Thanks, Bella. And you know, you can stop looking like that. I'm not going to start yelling at you."
Bella sighed in relief, but she still looked sad. With my customary bluntness, I asked, "So, Bella, why do you look so sad?"
Bella blushed. I think she thought that I hadn't noticed. Then I thought of something else. I hated being asked personal questions. In my case, it was probably because my life involved the hellhole known as the School. But if I never answered personal questions, who was I to ask them? "Sorry. None of my business."
"It's okay," Bella assured me, but I could tell she was happy she didn't have to answer my question. I finished the plate. Bella took it and headed to the kitchen.
The second Bella returned, she sat down and glanced at Charlie. Charlie cleared his throat and began awkwardly, "Uh, Max, seeing as you don't seem to have anywhere to stay..."
Bella cut in. She seemed better with words than Charlie. "If you want, you can stay here."
Thank you for reading. I didn't add any descriptions, I know, but that would just be boring. I usually don't like descriptions. I'm sorry if Bella didn't sound very depressed, but remember that she was distracted from her depression. So, review!
