Chapter 3: Settling in

Here's chapter 3! I really enjoy updating this story, and I hope people like it! I've noticed that I have like, 156 hits, and yet only 7 reviews. You don't have to give a whole 500 word message, just tell me what you really think, even if it consists of only 1 word!

Anyway, enough raving about reviews. Enjoy chapter 3!

-Anna

EdwardPOV

Bella smiles just slightly when Esme welcomes her home. Her eyes melt into warmth for just a bit, and then the smile slowly fades and so does the light behind her eyes. They return into the deep and yet empty darkness that she's shown so much.

It scares me, that she should be so . . . lifeless, empty. Her eyes are void, and yet behind their lids is a desperate cry for help that doesn't seem to escape from it's cage. Bella is careful not to reveal too much of herself; not to warm up to us, and it breaks my heart.

Though I quickly got over the quick period of sadness. Bella is just a human girl; and nothing more. This belief—no, fact—is firm in my mind and I relax, knowing that I have not become too interested or too familiar with the human.

My family's mind has taken a quick turn from excitement to nervousness, and I take a quick check in to see just what it is that they might be thinking or planning so I can coordinate appropriately.

-Will probably need to buy things such as Ibuprofen, fever reducer, stomach soothing things . . . . ingredients for conventional and quick fixes . . . hope Bella is comfortable with the family environment, she's been through a lot a deserves to relax. –Carlisle

-I'm sure Bella will love it here! Everything will be perfect . . . dinner every night, some time as a family, good outings . . . . wonder what else Bella might be interested in? I should ask her . . . –Esme

-Oh, I just hope that she doesn't try to steal my light! Then again, maybe this isn't all bad. Bella is like another version of me. Oh, maybe she's like a human brunette version of me! Is that possible, to have a human version of yourself after you become a vampire? Oh, this is so wonderful –Rosalie

Hmm, actually she's like a smart, kind version of yourself, Rosalie, sister dearest.

-Video games, TV shows sports! Finally, I can have a person who I can teach all my tricks to! I'll teach her everything I know and we'll be like Batman and Robin from that TV show! Partners in funny heroics! I like it already. I'll have to get to her before Edward does, though. He'll probably show her something boring like music or books. Ugh! –Emmett

-Will Bella let me do her hair, I wonder? Well, maybe she'll let me fix her clothes for her, at the least. Bella would make such a good model for all my clothes! She has the perfect hair, the perfect face, the perfect figure . . . –Alice

Actually Alice, I might not mind you playing Bella barbie if her figure is involved . . . I think, and a strange curling feeling makes itself known in my stomach. I feel my eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and yet there is a strange, tingling pleasure twisting inside me . . .

I go back into the minds of my family to escape it, hoping distraction will help shake it off.

-My Alice, excited as always. Everyone else is okay, I guess. Though the feelings coming from Bella are kind of bringing me down . . . and Edward, what the hell man? –Jasper

I shrug, and then turn back to Bella, who is staring out the window with a strange expression on her face. It is a mixture of disgust and awe, if there is such an expression. Her bright, eager eyes look strange with her deep scowl. She seems very unhappy about being adopted, and I realized vaguely that I couldn't really care less; my initial irritation with Esme's idea of adopting a human teenager had carried over where Bella herself was concerned.

The whole process of getting everyone out of the car and into the house goes pretty quickly, to my surprise. I am expecting Bella to be more hesitant, or on another note to examine everything here as she had near the orphanage. And yet she only grabs her bag and follows us into the house with barely a glance to the place she is going to be living in. She looks around the living room with some enthusiasm but says nothing; I come to expect it because her nature seems to be one of few words or outward gestures. Esme looks embarrassed as she tells Bella that she has to share a room until Esme can get her bedroom set up, but Bella is barely listening.

She has sighted my grand piano and seems to lose focus on anything else. She walks toward it in long, bouncing strides and smiles widely when she sees the shiny black surface and ivory keys. Her expression is not here but somewhere else, she is lost somewhere in happier times. She reaches out eagerly to stroke the keys, and then seems to realize that everyone else is watching her and straightens up. I can tell as well as everyone else that she is thinking of how idiotic she looked standing in the middle of the room and treating the piano like a long lost sister. I now understand her question in the car when Alice asked her if she played an instrument.

"Is this Edward's piano?" she asks, looking up at me with a certain smirk on her face. I nod and she seems bemused for a short second before she reaches her hand out again, this time looking at Esme as she asks a question.

"Do you play?" she asks, and Bella nods. "Well, I'd love to hear you. Would you mind playing us a song?"

"Not now," Bella says. "Later." Something is telling me that "later" means "never".

"Ok. I understand," Esme says with a smile, and Jasper reports that Bella feels relieved. Esme goes on smoothly with a tour of the house, and Bella's level of interest seems higher now. She asks many questions that Esme has never heard from a visitor (or any of us) before, and surprises all of us by acting almost friendly, even though I knew enough of Bella already to know she probably couldn't stand any of us.

I myself feel very hesitant towards her; the feeling is not strong enough for dislike but I can't say I remotely like her without lying through my teeth. She seems very arrogant and dark, and while she doesn't act dishonest in general I don't suspect she'd hesitate for one second to lie. There is something dangerous I see in her eyes . . . and it scares me. She is also too quick-tempered to be likable.

"So, who do you want to share a room with?" Bella frowns as Esme finishes the tour and returns to the previous topic.

"Edward," she answers quickly, and I don't hesitate to hide my displeasure. Maybe I had been too friendly, or perhaps too indifferent, towards her. I would have to make the message that I wasn't interested in friendship with her a little clearer . . .

"He is the only one who does not seem to have a partner and I would not want to intrude on any couples." Her answer is reasonable and seems considerate, but I can't help feeling a silent pang of regret. Now this means I can't stay up all night tending to my studies and listening to my music as I usually do; staying awake all night with no signs of lethargy would not be a good idea when I have a curious, astute human in my room that seems particularly fascinated with watching things and/or people, including me.

"Or, I can sleep in the living room, if you wish," she sounds hopeful, and I feel some regret that she seemed to be as indifferent and resentful towards me as I was towards her. Something about Bella compels you to like her; something subtle and perceptible only to the acute seems to draw you toward her.

"No! I'm sure Edward wouldn't mind."

"I changed my mind. I really think I should sleep in the living room . . .," Bella insists, with a quick, calculating glance at me.

"If you're sure . . ."

"I am."

"It's just for tonight. Edward can spare his room tomorrow." Esme persists, eyebrows drawn in confusion. Bella nods brusquely, then turns to the long white couch and places her bag on the long black console in front of it. She sits without a word, and stares into space as if lost in a daydream too potent to see beyond.

I was the first to leave, letting out a relieved huff as I went up to my third-story bedroom and shut the door, escaping from the pressure of her presence. I knew they would all want to talk later, after she was asleep, and I didn't know how I'd get out of it.

I didn't bother to think anymore and instead clicked on my stereo and let the wonderful sound of music flow into my ears.

BellaPOV

I sit without a sound and wait for them to leave. I hear footsteps on the stairs, and I don't need to turn around to know that Edward is the first one to return to his everyday activities. The rest of them disperse soon after and leave me in peace. Their presence overwhelms me—their faces are not their own; I see beautiful green eyes and blue gleams in the topaz depths, faces with too many flaws to belong to the Cullen family—thick eyebrows, high noses and crooked chins. It's an illusion of the past, a superficial look into what the Rosalie Hale or Edward Cullen of the far-off distance, might have looked before the transition, whatever it was, that brought them here.

Stillness breathes the air I breathe and I breathe in the stillness. Symmetry is left where color fades into whitewashed pictures of mistaken clarity. The room and all of its contents are washed of life; it's the decorating scheme of a professional interior designer, the type of iciness that only a hotel room or a showroom can hold. I see no change, no life, no warmth. The statues are not for touching, the furniture that I utilize is, in fact, not for sitting.

I stand as I comprehend this, moving away from the comfortable seating and searching for a diversion. My searching eyes failed, and I sat on the hardwood floor, not wanting to sit on the sofa—I could never stand being too comfortable at any one time. I moved away from the coffee table and laid flat on the floor, allowing my hair to fan out around my face, allowing all the energy and the memories of footsteps and the essence of the room itself to seep up into my fingertips with each breath.

It is not strange or new. This air, this feeling of weight being pushed upwards, consumes me until the artificial, deceptive light that has been closing in is pushed back, and darkness, the only thing I know well, moves in to devour me in its comforting embrace. Ignorance can only be bliss. I am cursed with the knowledge of life swirling around in my head, and the loss of vision, inability of thought, is the closest thing to heaven . . .

"Bella?"

An unsure voice ventures into the space where I rest, and when I open my eyes I see that night has descended, throwing it's pale light and contrasting darkness into the room. White skin flashes in the darkness, and looking into the topaz eyes that were warmer than they had any right to be, I knew Esme was standing over me.

"What is it?" my voice doesn't sound like my own, and I sit up. She's still there, her legs only inches away from my torso. I can't explain the feeling of uneasiness that befalls me; I move away from her presence.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"I guess so." She gives a rueful smile, and I almost regret the remark. But not enough to apologize. I wasn't that thoughtful.

"I just came to check on you and you were laying here . . . I wanted to move you to the couch, but Edward warned me not to because you might wake up and be confused. What's wrong, honey? Why are you sleeping on the floor?" I was too busy searching the shadows for a notifying aura of green, but there was nothing there, and I relaxed.

"I was reading a book here. I guess I fell asleep." To my utter delight, someone had made the useful mistake of leaving a book open on the coffee table. I grabbed it as proof, and Esme raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"You should get changed and try to get some more sleep." I nod. She hesitates, then smiles, and adds that she should leave me be. I agree readily, and after she's left upstairs I sit a while before changing into my pajamas, grabbing the blanket some one had been considerate enough to leave out (was it Edward who first discovered me here? {Not that I consider him any more affectionate of me than the others; I'm glad he's as put off as I am}) and closed my eyes. It didn't take long to discover that I wouldn't be asleep anytime soon.

I kept my eyes closed and reveled in the silence.

JasperPOV

(A.N: Surprise, surprise! Shocked ya, didn't I? Wow, we really don't hear from Jasper that often! His view is in past-tense)

The morning signaled a brand new day, and for that I had mixed feelings. The night was over and my hours of being stir crazy (from having to sit still in order not to wake Isabella, the new human girl), but thee day held for the first time signs of the unknown and I didn't really know if it was worth going downstairs. Her scent was potent, her stare was dangerous, and her emotions were things that no words could make comprehensible. Her reactions were what none of us expected, and it made her extremely unpredictable. Worst was the icy calmness underneath everything; nothing of the lunacy I hade hoped for, just so I would have foundation to use when handling her emotions. They were truly uncontrollable.

I ventured downstairs after some prodding from Alice, the only person who could reassure me that everything would be alright, considering her ability with the future, and was surprised, once again, by what I saw.

Isabella, dressed in a black hoodie, dark jeans and large boots, was in the kitchen, messing around with the pots and pans (never making any noise, by some complete miracle) and digging around in the refrigerator for something to cook. A few words from Alice, spoken at vampire speed, alerted me that she was going to make breakfast for the family. I couldn't understand how Edward hadn't picked up on it, or how Isabella had managed to accomplish the task of entering the kitchen and finding the food stores without an interruption. Carlisle was either too busy or unwilling to explain more about her (he had read all of her personal history beforehand), so I was left clueless.

"Hello, Alice. Jasper." Her low voice carried, and I jumped; stunned more by the fact that Alice was just as taken aback than by the fact that she had detected our presence when we had made not a move, not a sound, barely a breath.

"Bella! I thought I heard you downstairs." Alice, always the hyperactive type; the best, besides Edward and Carlisle alike, at keeping up the charade for the humans. I had much to learn, and tagged along as she recomposed herself and nearly skipped into the kitchen.

"Hmmph," Isabella (Was it right to call her by her nickname in my thoughts when I didn't feel comfortable voicing it aloud?) murmured, acknowledging us further with only a look over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast."

"Why? You didn't have to. Esme would have done it as soon as you asked her. You are the newest here, after all." Isabella turned to use with a smirk, and it wouldn't take Edward's assistance to know that she tacked on "and you're the freaky girl we adopted."

"Ospitalità italiana. Italian hospitality."

"Oh, you really don't have to."

"I'd prefer it if you would let me." She turned away, beginning the job of cracking a dozen eggs into a bowel, and seemed to forget all about us while she cooked. I realized from the near excruciating force of her happiness while she did even this small task that cooking sent her into a state of euphoria, otherwise known as "the zone". Alice turned to me with a raise of her eyebrows, and I gave her a smile that had nothing to do with Isabella or her mistaken generosity, rather with Alice's delicate beauty.

"What's going on?" Carlisle asked as he walked into the sitting room, accompanied by Esme, and caught the smell of the raw eggs. I wanted to tell him all about it, but Isabella had already detected us without the aid of noise or shadows, and I didn't want to risk trying to get the murmurings of vampiric whispers by her astute senses.

"Isabella is making breakfast!" Alice blurted. Alas, we were not the perfect pair.

"Really?" Esme asked in a low, but still excited, voice. . I couldn't tell if she was excited that Bella was comfortable in the kitchen, or just because of the mention of cooking in itself, but she was ecstatic.

"Yes," Isabella's cool voice said, and I didn't bother to fill Carlisle and Esme in on what happened. I instead walked into the adjoining dining room and sat down, joined by the three of them. Emmett announced his presence by the thunder of his greeting and the heaviness of his steps.

Rosalie and Edward were the last to enter, and by the time they did, the smell of bacon eggs, ham, grits—everything anyone could imagine and more, including backed breads with sweet jam on them—had wafted through the entire house.

This marked the beginning of a day of turmoil. Or at least, a day where things were not in a century-old routine.

EdwardPOV

The only thing that can give me the will to go downstairs is the disgusting smell of human food—Italian cooking, I'm sure, by the distinct smell of pastries and chocolate—and the sound of voices. I managed to escape the family meeting and lecture that was sure to've been directed my way, only because Carlisle had been too preoccupied with thoroughly researching a side effect of Bella's condition (vampires are easily distracted), and hadn't planned on coming down until around ten o' clock, when it would be an appropriate time for a late breakfast. Isabella has other plans.

When I reach the dining room, followed by an agitated Rosalie, the others are sitting, staring at each other. I say not a word and instead take a seat next to Emmett, who sits adjacent to Jasper. Rosalie huffs and takes a seat next to Carlisle, wordless because of irritation. I don't bother to work myself up to anger; curiosity is al l I can muster. I am shattered by this girl's presence, physical and emotional, and I thank the Lord (?) that the pressure of her thoughts isn't on me. I might be totally lost by now.

"Buona mattina, Rosalie and Edward." She's not in the room, but she discerns our entrance. I check in on Jasper's thoughts. He seems the most knowing, based on his facial expression.

-Amazing. Is there anything that she doesn't pick up on? First me and Alice, then Carlisle and Esme, now Rosalie and Edward. Have to warn the others . . . harder to keep the secret . . . –

He doesn't think of Emmett, and I already know that my brother made his presence known even before he announced a "good morning". If Emmett stood in any one place for a five minute period and left, allowing someone else to stand in that same place or at least in the room, they would've known he had been there.

What bothers me, if everything else is the object of my indifference, is how right he is. Isabella's intuition reaches beyond 20/20 vision or extreme accuracy, beyond the point of being neurotic or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's a power of perception, something potent, something strange . . . .

Something dangerous.

I'm not left to think for any longer; Bella strides into the room, expression apathetic even as she smiles, eyes holding a knowing look. She sets down a large platter of food, and I am surprised at her skill—it surpasses even Esme. I can tell she is an experienced cook, even though the disgusting smell is everything by mouth-watering to me, a vampire.

There are eight plates (that she doesn't pass out, but rather keeps in a stack) and eight knives, spoons, and forks each. I feel almost guilty that she went to work to do this for us when we were ultimately ungrateful and wouldn't eat at all, but also unduly amused. She doesn't seem surprised when none of us move to eat, and simply serves herself. Taking one large bite, she chews and swallows daintily before speaking.

"Don't worry, it's not poisoned. I haven't the right chemicals for that." If that is her idea of a joke, it's not a funny one. I'm sure she isn't joking, however, since she's made it clear she couldn't care less about the lot of us. Not that we'd be at all effected, but just think if she'd said the same thing to a group of other humans . . .

When none of us moves or says anything, her expression changes as she continues to devour the large meal on her own. Her eyebrows draw over her dark eyes, her lips purse, and there is a look of sadness in her eyes . . .

And then I remember that in Italy, it is considered the highest insult to refuse a meal that someone has cooked for you. Even if Bella's preparation was not an act of hospitality, it is still considered to be a friendly gesture . . . and therefore we may be the rudest family members she's ever encountered.

"Sono molto spiacente," (I'm very sorry) I say, feeling that the apology is necessary.

"Preoccupazione voi stessi non; Ho sperimentato l'altro rudeness. La vostra media di condoglianze niente a me." (Concern yourself not, I have experiences other rudeness. Your condolences mean nothing to me.)

'Allora forse non dovreste essere in modo da danneggiato quando dico che siamo "su una dieta speciale„.' (Then perhaps you should not be so hurt when I say we are on a 'special diet'.)

"Forse non."(Perhaps not.)

By this time we were being observed by the rest of the family, but neither of us would say anything, and they had varied thoughts on that.

-At least they're making conversation. There's nothing much for the rest of us to say. –Carlisle

-Hope she isn't offended . . . wish we were still human . . . –Esme

-I'm not eating. Hell, no one asked her to cook. –Rosalie

-God . . . the smell! –Emmett

-I have to find a way to explain without hurting her feelings . . . –Alice

-What did you say? She's . . .calmer now, if bitter. –Jasper.

Bella eats in silence, speaking only to ask for my help with washing the dishes. Being prodded by my siblings, I consent.

I don't have to join her when she washed, rather, she hands me the plates after she dries. I start to wonder why she asked me at all, when she turns, having finished cleaning the dishes and wiping the sink clean, and gives me a mean look that I've seen worn by stubborn twenty-three year old sluts on soap operas . . . except, this look was anything but inviting, and certainly not an act.

"Non desidero essere amici." (I don't want to be friends.)

"Nessuno fanno il I. Li considero niente ma una sorella." (Neither do I. I consider you nothing but a sister.)

"Buon. Non posso vedere perchè c'è ne di voi desiderano essere il mio amico." (Good. I don't know why any of you want to be my friend.)

" Li consideriamo parte della famiglia " (We consider you part of the family.)

"Non. Se fossi, would've di I sopportato la vostra sorella. Se fossi, non dovreste occorrere tempo adeguato impararlo. E certamente non stavo avendogli questo colloquio con." (I don't. If I were, I would've been born your sister. If I were, you wouldn't have to take proper time to learn me. And I certainly wouldn't be having this talk with you.)

"Prende più di quello per fare una famiglia." (It takes more than that to make a family.)

"Non in mio libro." (Not in my book.)

I leave the kitchen and vow to avoid her as much as possible—she shares my feelings of hostility, or at least unpleasant apathy, after all. So we won't be friends.

I don't even know if she wants to be sister and brother.

BellaPOV

He leaves the kitchen without another word, and I don't regret the words that I've said. I see no use in salvaging their feelings, no need to lie when they all know what I think. If I am an anomaly, I may as well not pretend to be an item of stark uniformity, such as they are. It won't make me any more a part of their family.

I stare into the far-away distance, looking past the modern vision of the kitchen and seeing memories that are not there. With a blink, the pictures are gone. I walk through the dining room and into the living room, and through the door, out to the forest. I need solitude. I need space away from them, away from the illusions I can't fight, from the presence of the people I scorn and admire with the two complex parts of my being.

The departure is sudden, the questions directed my way barely reaching my ears. My eyes see before me a dream world, a sweet escape from the stark reality or mistaken certainty of the contemporary forest home. I slip between the shapes of a large spruce and a contrasting yew tree, leaving them staring behind me with no plans of pursuit.

It's starting to rain, and yet the moisture doesn't stop me. I allow the towering figures of the pine trees and the clouds overhead to engulf me in the gloom until I am no longer Bella walking into the forest; but rather part of it in myself. It's nice to belong to something, even if you will never have mind for companionship. And I certainly don't, here in the woods, wandering paths that whisper secrets in vain, touching the trees that even now seem part of a hazy dream.

My trail wounds deep into the woods, curving and twisting away from civilization to lead me into a world of eternal isolation. Soon the ferns and canopies of dense moss and protective ferns that hang overhead drip wet spots into my hair and onto my clothes; my boots elicited a pooling of moisture and a squeak with their step. I know not where to go or how to get there; I can say only that I search for the place where the hush of the forest meets the truth of fate, the place that we can only touch in death.

Air flows freely here, the trees grow taller and taller until they are high overhead and closer to the stratosphere than they are to the Earth, and the path is covered in nothing but

My searching feet come to a narrow, mossy clearing, strewn with large boulders and grassy logs, hidden in the shade of protective vegetation and looking like an entranceway into the land of the supernatural. With little difficulty, I climb onto a boulder, staring at the face of another, and wish more than anything that I could retain the same strength. Sprawling over the hard, wet gray surface just as I had the floor in their house, I curl up into the fetal position, and try to remember what being part of an entity was like.

Short chapter, I know. Pretty dramatic, but I figured we could use a bit o' action, even if it's quite unexpected and comes quickly into the plot. Aye, this state of being concerning Bella won't last too long. Just wanted to get deeper into the problems that come with a bad past. Hope you enjoyed. PLEASE REVIEW (greedy and selfish, considering how long it took me to write and update, but humor me.)

-Anna