PLEASE VOTE IN THE POLL AGAIN. ALL CHOICES ARE TIED.

BY POPULAR VOTE ALL SONGS IN THIS STORY WILL BE A MIX OF BOTH OTHER ARTISTS AND MY OWN CREATIONS.

DISLCIAMER- I DON'T OWN TWILIGHT THOUGH I WISH I DID AND I DO NOT OWN ANY CHIODOS SONGS.

ALL PICTURES WILL BE ON MY PROFILE WITHIN TWO DAYS.

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning

And the noontide night.- William Shakespeare

Chapter 3 – The Three in 'The Tree'

All was, for the first time in hours, silent.

There was no radio on next door.

No thumping noises as my neighbors walked around their apartment.

No sound of duct tape being pulled from the roll and pulled across a cardboard box.

At this point I would have been a complete imbecile if I hadn't figured out that my neighbor was moving.

For the past day and a half my neighbor had been banging, throwing, taping, boxing, wrapping, bubble-wrapping, newspapering, listening to the radio, and making endless pots of coffee all day long with only brief hours of silence every night when they finally called it a day and went to sleep.

And, because I have obviously had the time to observe all of this, it's obvious that I had not left or thought about leaving my apartment in two days.

After I lost consciousness after my guitar bender, I slept plagued by a shadow.

A shadow of something that my heart used to know, but now had been banished and was plaguing me in my dreams.

The dreams were of a shadow that followed my heart and grew closer and stronger with its each struggling beat.

For those two days I stayed in bed. I didn't eat. I wasn't hungry. I barely slept. I had nightmares. I didn't think. My memories were too painful. I just listened.

After I awoke after those two days I needed to preoccupy myself. So, again, though normally not my thing at all, I made a list that went and was accomplished as follows.

1. Figure out how much money I have left= $4,057 – $90 (train ticket) - $150 (hotel) - $250 (cabs) - $50 (valium) - $350 (apartment) - $200 (apartment signing fee/insurance) - $85.98 (groceries ; expensive in the city) = $2881.02. 6:43 a.m.

2. Put away clothes. 7:26 a.m.

I did this mechanically and without thought. The only way I could avoid the growing and persistent ripping of my ribcage was to focus on something trivial.

3. Make breakfast. (Pancakes + eggs) The smell nauseated me, the pit of my stomach twisting in disgust. 7:59

4. Throw away uneaten breakfast. 8:02 a.m.

5. shower and groom self. 10:07 a.m.

I showered in ice cold water, my wet hair a veil over my face as I leaned my head against the front wall of the shower, the water hitting my hair and back while drops of water slid from my hair to my run down my nose and cheeks, acting as the tears I refused to shed. The cold numbed the shreds of my heart and distracted me as I stared at the white tile and unconsciously washed my hair; that though it was wet, curled in waves and was several inches longer than yesterday.

When I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in the one black towel I had thought to buy the other day and looked at myself in the mirror.

My skin had become a luminous pale that was free of any discoloration or blemishes; the red gone from cheeks, only a slight pink tinge giving away that I was indeed alive.

My hair was darker, longer, and curlier; much like my grandmother's. It reached to a few inches above my hip but would curl up into perfect curls and shorten to six inches past my shoulders.

My eyes had gone from chocolate brown, to amber, to light green, and were now an icy blue color with tinges of purple around my enlarged pupil.

All of this I found uninteresting, yet fascinating. I was beautiful. Ophelia Muse was beautiful, while Isabella Swan never was.

As I lowered the towel to the floor to put on my clothes I also noticed that I would need to buy a new bra. (AN-I'M NOT TRYING TO BE SICK HERE BUT YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THAT BELLA LOOKS COMPLETLEY DIFFERENT NOW)

I dressed in all black again, trying to reflect my mood. However I was running out of dark clothes.

So, I went to my closet, got a trash bag, and threw out everything that wasn't a dark color. I then commenced to throw said clothes out the window and, extremely ironically, right into a homeless person's cart. Go figure.

I then started to walk to down the busy street; my face hidden in my hood and the rest of me shrouded in black clothes.

I went shopping and got all manner of black and dark clothes; band shirts, black, purple, red, and grey jeans and skirts and stockings and leggings, Gothic corsets and overly large black jersey nightshirts and black boy-shorts. This all included several new bras (black with varying colors of lace). My b's had become c's.

I also bought a bunch of black, red, and white candles, some dishes, and a bunch of emo/punk/metal/rock CDs. (With Temptation, Nightwish, Slipknot, My Chemical Romance, Evanescence, and Linkin Park).

After I had finished my shopping I went back to my apartment to drop off my purchases. I put away the clothes and scattered the candles around the room on the various surfaces; the dresser, the nightstand, and the counters. Then, after uploading my new CDs into my iPod I locked my apartment door. I paused outside my door to examine the hall. The walls were deep red, with gray carpet. I also noticed that there was no sound coming from the apartment next to mine. there was no tick of a clock or anything. I inferred that this meant my neighbor had moved out while I was gone.

There were five apartments on this floor, mine the smallest, my former neighbors a two bedroom apartment like the other three and twice the size of mine.

I covered my face and was passing by the superintendant's office on my way out the door.

"Hey! Ms. Muse!" I turned to the balding man who stood in the doorway of his small, cluttered office. I simply turned my head towards him.

"A package from Gianna's Musica arrived for you." He gestured to a large box that I knew held my amp. I smiled ruefully under my hood. The black curtain in my room was closed so it would be safe to send him up there.

With my hands deep in the pockets of my tight purple jeans I tilted my hidden face to the side and said sweetly, "Oh, that looks just so heavy. You don't think that maybe a strong man like you couldn't carry it up for me," my voice complete coercion. I saw his pupils dilate under the black hem of my hood and he nodded slowly. I said a quick goodbye and exited the building.

I found a small, modern coffee shop and decided to have a cup of tea (English Breakfast tea, one creamer, two sugars). I sat in a black leather chair in a small sitting area, the shop deserted except for me and the barista who was watching All My Children behind the counter.

The ever-present hum of city noise I now found to be, though still annoying as hell, natural and undeniably there. I still however, blocked it out and focused on the sound of the TV as I held the hot cup of tea to my lips, not drinking it, but letting it cool, and letting the steam tickle my face. The news report wasn't remarkable; robberies, a homicide in Vancouver, accelerating prices at the airport, etc. Until I heard the name of a dead girl said by a generic, slightly nasally voice on the TV that I was listening too but not looking at. At that name I lifted my eyes from the brown liquid to see a shallow river with an old rusty truck sitting in it.

Early this morning authorities in Port Angeles found the vehicle of recently missing Isabella Swan, daughter of a local police officer. The report from the forensic specialists reads that due to the elevated waters the night that Isabella went missing and the flow of the river, that it is most likely that Isabella swerved off the road and was swept down river and into the ocean. Authorities have officially declared her dead.

I sighed in the warm liquid and stood up, discarding it into a trashcan, untouched. At least now my parents could get over me. I took a wrong turn on my way home and went by a Tiffany & Company, and in the window was a silver dog-tag. (PICTURE ON PROFILE) I thought of Isabella Swan and how she would have no funeral, no remembrance in a few decades. So, I went in and bought the dog tag and had it sent off to be engraved saying-

Isabella Marie Swan Sept. 13 1992- Sept. 13 2009

The rest of the day hours passed in a haze. Monotone. Mechanical.

I went home.

5. Balance money yet again= $2881.02 – 435.98 (clothes) – 38.78 (candles) – 45.90 (CDs) – 2.34 (tea) - $250 (dog tag) = $2108.01.

I ate a little bit. I don't remember what.

I downed two Valiums at 3 o'clock and crept slowly into a monotone, dreamless sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxxXxxXxXXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Charlie POV

After I got the note I didn't know what to think. It wasn't until I heard that the Cullens had moved rather unexpectedly that I understood. That SOB had broken up with her and she had become suicidal. Any idiot with half a brain could tell that she was completely head over heels for the guy. And though, I knew that it was probably too late, I used every one of my resources to try and find my little girl.

We sent out dozens of search parties. For two days I didn't sleep, Renee called me and said she got a letter from Bella too, she arrived to help the same day and our search continued. We had every man in the state of Washington and half of them in Oregon and a few in Canada looking for her. It wasn't until the water level of the river went down after the huge storm we had had the day Bella went missing that the bridge to Port Angeles wasn't flooded any more that we found it.

A couple on their way to Forks General Hospital had found that the guard rail of the bridge had been driven through and that there was an old rusty truck in the bottom of the river. Our investigators said that the door of the truck I had given Bella was open and that with the high waters that day, it was very likely that Bella drowned in the strong current when she swerved off the road.

I was sick. My little baby girl was probably dead. I should have been there for her. I should have done something. I should have never let her go out with that boy. I should have made sure she was really okay that night she came home after being missing.

Renee left the day that we sent the dogs into the woods and they found traces of blood down the river of a bank at the end of a huge waterfall. (AN-this was from when Bella tried to drown herself) I barely noticed her leave but she didn't seem very affected. Bitch.

I swore that if I ever saw the SOB Cullen boy I would kill him. For my little girl.

XXxxXxXXXXxxXxXXXxxXXxXxXXxxXXxXxXxxXXXXXXxXXxXxXxxxXXxxxXxxXxXxxxxxxxxXXXxXXxXXxXxXxXxxXXX

Renee POV

When I got Charlie's call and Bella's letter I was heartbroken. I knew that she would try to kill herself, but she would not succeed. I went to Forks in hope that they would find her. But it was too late. When they found the traces of blood and said that her body could have been carried to sea, or eaten by a bear, I knew that she had tried to drown herself and my mother would have found her in the between world and told her everything. I will not pretend to not resent Bella for having the powers I have always wanted. But I do love my daughter with all my heart and regret that I didn't tell her.

But, there's nothing I can do. My only comfort is that my daughter is not dead and she never will be.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXXxXxXXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Bella's POV

I woke up quickly; suddenly. I shot up in bed and got up quickly, my legs swaying beneath me. I sat down to my computer and deleted and erased all songs from my iPod that were about love, happiness, friendship, family, and all other such things. It was 10:32 p.m.

I ran my hands through my hair and leaned back my chair. My clothes were rumpled and wrinkled so I decided to change.

I put on a shirt, black shirt and legging and my new purple corset hoodie. (PICTURES ON PROFILE). After I was dressed I brushed my hair and watched as it curled right back up.

The girl in the mirror was officially no longer Isabella Swan. The girl in the mirror was now officially Ophelia Muse.

My eyes had turned a very strange color. Not blue, nor purple, nor green, but some exotic, lovely mixed, like a mystic sapphire. My hair was even longer than this morning and my skin was pallid and colorless, the blush completely gone. My previously overly large mouth had shrunk to a small, cute little pout and was the color that most women had to use lipstick to duplicate. Though I would never have to hide my face, I still wanted to. The face in the mirror was too interesting. It would gain too much attention. And though, my face was now beautiful, my eyes were hollow and stained with things no heart should know and no eyes should see.

I turned back into my bedroom. I had set the book and the box next to each other on the desk; as I walked passed them on my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water I heard a faint click and a beautiful sound. A sound that sounded like a bell. It was sound that sounded like a command and an implication. And the sound came from the box. I turned slowly and saw that the box had clicked/dinged open all by itself and was now about an inch ajar.

A strange force made my limbs move on their own accord and lift the edge of the box. I found the lining of the box was black velvet. Inside was a folded piece of paper. I reached in and pulled it out; as soon as I did the box shut quickly and I heard a faint click as it locked again. I unfolded the paper and found an address.

3695 Xavier Lane

Seattle

12:19 a.m.

Take your guitar

After I read those few words the book next to the box flipped open on its own to a page under Suggestive Solutions. I put the paper in my pocket and reached for the book.

When the box gives you an address, we suggest you go to that address and be there at the time specified. Why you should be there? You'll know.

Damn. More cryptic words. But oh, well.

So, I grabbed the Betsy Johnson bag I had bought and threw the book and my iPod in along with my wallet and a can of Mace and threw my acoustic guitar in its case and drew the strap over my shoulder. (PICTURE OF BAG ON PROFILE)

I didn't know where Xavier Lane was so I had to call a cab with the payphone outside my building because I had not had the chance to get a phone as of yet. As I waiting for my cab I took in the sounds around me, letting the undertones come with them.

The whoosh of passing vehicles was a very stale sound, not natural found in nature and not music. Its undertone was an unpleasant keening sound and it gave me a headache so I turned off that undertone. The sound of the footsteps of the people around me was a natural sound and music in its own way. Its undertone was quick and like the constant beat of a drum, but the sound varied depending on the steps of the person. It wasn't unpleasant or pleasant, but very distracting so I ignored that too. Then there were the distant noises of doors opening and closing (a drum-like undertone). I now also heard the sound of particles hitting particles. It was beautiful. It sound like the high ring of bells and the whistling of wind threw tall grass. It was the only sound I allowed myself to hear until the cab pulled up. I gave the cabbie the address as I maneuvered the guitar into the backseat with me.

"Oh, playing at the Tree tonight are. When I saw your outfit and your guitar I figured." His remark puzzled me but I remain silent and watch the city from the window, catching undertones as we sped past them on the sparsely crowded road.

We arrived fifteen minutes later at a club that was very emo. The sign was written in black gothic lettering and read "The Tree". It was plastered with band posters and there was a long line of Goths, punks, emos, and regular people standing in line to get into the club. I paid my fare and got out. When the bouncer saw my guitar he just waved me in, not checking the list, obviously just assuming I was a performer. (PICTURE OF CLUB ON PROFILE)

When I entered the club and heard the music I was absolutely enthralled. The music that wafted to my ears was an immaculate reflection of my pain. The purring guitar sang my emptiness and the thrumming bass screamed my loneliness while the manly voice that was singing of death and love and betrayal was the mirror to my pain. I almost fell to my knees but someone bumped against me that I realized that I was standing at the door like an idiot. I went an empty booth as close to the band as I could get. The lead singer had blond hair with blue streaks running through it; he had a long, athletic face. The bass player and the drummer were twins, though the bassist had a more hardened face, the drummer's face was more whimsical. I noticed though that the guitarist kept upstaging the rest of the band and was doing way to many flourishes and salutes to the crowd that surrounded the stage like a tide to a beach. The guitarist looked and acted like a prick with his overly dyed hair, all a sick green color and his excessively emo clothes including long arm warmers with chains and chained green jeans with a jacket that had a multitude of zippers. The other members of the band wore simpler, understated clothes that let their personalities speak for themselves in dark or black jeans and then various graphic shirts.

Despite the guitarist the melody was the first music I had heard since my birthday that I had been able to listen to without the feeble stitches that just barely kept my heart from ripping apart completely. I figured that this was because this music was a way to alleviate a miniscule portion of the ever-present pain that was always there, whether I tried to ignore it or not. And I experience a strange sensation.

This sensation was the feeling of a massive weight being lifted off my chest and then slammed down again with twice the weight. This music made my pain fade just enough to keep me breathing, yet brought up memories of him. Memories of every second of pure bliss that were now denied me.

I closed my eyes and focused on this music. I used my Muse powers to block out the screams of the crowd and also enhanced the quality of the sound of the instruments. The lyrics to the song sung by the singer whose voice sounded so protective and careful. His voice sounded, even though he was singing of loss and pain, like it was otherwise meant to comfort and console, to reassure and calm. It was the voice that I would imagine an older brother would have. The song they just sang ended and they started a new one. (This song is The Undertaker's Thirst For Revenge is Unquenchable by Chiodos. I love the lyrics, but imagine they are sung and the instrumental parts aren't as hard core emo. THE SONGS WILL NOT ALWAYS BE THIS EMO I PROMISE, UNLESS YOU ALL WANT THAT. LINK ON PROFILE)

My eyes are glistening with the ghosts of my past
The memories that we once had

Now that you've turned the world against me
I'm only trying to win them back

With my eyes sewn shut
To shut down and bathe in these words about me
And now you're standing alone with your eyes to the sun
Standing alone with your eyes to the sun

That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together
Worlds are ruined this way,
And we've all been there time and time again

Before the battle always seem so still
And I will see you someday again in the clouds
And I will see you someday again in the clouds

All the world's a stage!
And all the world's a stage!

With my eyes sewn shut
To shut down and bathe in these words about me
And now you're standing alone with your eyes to the sun
Standing alone with your eyes to the sun

That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together
Worlds are ruined this way,
And we've all been there time and time again

Time

My eyes are glistening with the ghosts of my past
And what we once had

All the world's a stage
I existed because I dreamed
And well, I dream no more
I've given up on the entire human race

[Spoken:]
Empty is the sky before the sun wakes up
Empty is the eyes of animals in cages
Empty are the faces of women in mourning
When everything has been taken from them
Me? Don't ask me about empty

I was in ecstasy. The song was my pain, my feelings that I had denied. I lifted my heavy lids to see the band was getting thunderous applause from the crowd of mixed personalities. There was a thick smell of black lipstick, various perfumes and deodorants, and sweat as the dancing, jumping, and cheering bodies slowed and dispersed as the band went off stage and the crowd congregated at the bar and tables to either refill or return to their drinks.

I scrambled out of the booth and found another bouncer by the stage door, he also seeing my guitar just waved me in and I had no objections. I hid my face as I searched for the band. Needing to. This must have been why I was summoned here.

I weaved my way through the noisy bunch of pierced, tattooed musicians, much more hard core than the three band members I had liked. I stopped and closed my eyes for a moment, diminishing every other sound except that of the voice of the lead singer. I found his voice to be behind the door of one of the three band dressing rooms. He and his band were having an argument. I slipped into the shadows behind the curtain and listened.

James, what the HELL!!! What was all that show-boating out there about? You really need to cut the shit dude. This band is about expression, not exaggeration. – brother voice/lead singer.

Ah, come on man. We all know that I'm the real reason anyone like us. You all are all just my back-up. – the one I took to be James said next.

Uh, that is it dude. Oliver, just sack his ass.- a new voice said.

Yeah, man, we've all had enough of his shit – a second new voice said; similar to the other unidentified voice, but now I could infer that the lead singer's name was Oliver.

Alright. James, we've had enough of you. Take your share of the pay and get out of here. You are officially out of the band. – Oliver.

I was filled with a reflection of hope, not quite there, I was unable to hope anymore. But, if they needed a new guitarist, I could help them.

You know what, fuck you guys. I can do better than any of you SOB's any day by myself. – James. I heard as paper was picked up and the slamming of a door followed by hurried footsteps out of the club.

God, Jeremy, that was such a relief. Can you even believe that guy? What a prick. I'm sooo glad we got rid of him. – strange voice 2.

I know Jared, I agree with you. – alright so now voice number 1 was Jared and voice 2 was Jeremy.

That's all well and good guys but now we have no guitarist. – Oliver

That's my cue. I picked up my guitar and went into the boys' dressing room. They all looked up when I entered. I kept my face hidden and brought my guitar in front of me.

"Who are you. Who let you in here?" Oliver asked me.

"Very good question Oliver. My name is Ophelia Muse, and I wish to be you new guitarist," I made my voice enchanting and enthralling, completely sweet and innocent while still being firm. I watched from under my hood as the twins looked to each other and then to Oliver who looked very much like an older brother to me. His eyes were soft, hazel as I saw them now, and interested.

"How did you know my name. and how did you know that we need a new guitarist. We just sacked our last guy." He said, wary of me.

"I know a lot more than that. You see you, me, Jared and Jeremy and I are going to be great friends so I can trust you," I knew that I could trust them, the box/book wouldn't have sent me here if I couldn't.

"it is my job to preserve music and sound. By joining your band I will use my powers to fast track our success and become entwined in the musical in crowd so to speak and make my job a lot easier." They looked at me and I knew by my voice that they believed me.

"I believe you Ophelia. Your voice is one that is capable of immeasurable lies, but it would never deceive us. Welcome to our band. However, before we can truly trust you, you must show us your face. The face of the voice of truth and lies, pain and sorrow, regret and emptiness, passion and love, and music itself. Your voice makes my heart want to sing and my voice want to hide in a cave. Even if you can't play the guitar well, which by what you say, I'm sure you can, we would have made you join our band anyway. And by joining our band you will become our little sister." I smiled for the first time since he left me.

"alright, but I must warn you, this is the face of a girl who devoured another and was left empty. I will only show you this girl on rare occasions." I deftly swept my arm over my head and released my hair and face from the purple hood. The boys gasped at my face. I gave them a blank expression.

All of a sudden Oliver, Jared and Jeremy all came to me and hugged me. The stitches on my heart were not need for a moment as they hugged me, keeping me together. These boys were now my big brothers. Though the pain now ripped and snarled and gnawed at my chest I now embraced it to some extent because it was the only way I felt anything anymore besides if I wanted to cut myself or be hugged. The pain of the cutting and the safe feeling of my brothers hugging me was only a shadow of the emotion that I used to feel, but at least I knew that I wasn't completely dead. These boys who sang of pain and lost love knew that their music, though it also caused pain, was also the only source of condolence for those like me who had no one to fill the gaping hole in their chest.

The flames of hell lapped at my heart as I thought his name but Edward was wrong.

My brilliant angel had been wrong. I was immortal now and no human's love could ever equal mine for him. They could not love forever because they did not have forever. As I lay engulfed by though weak and human, very comforting (though as little as comfort could do for me), arms I let myself envision his face once as I knew that for this brief moment I had a guarantee of not falling apart with my brothers' arms around me.

And he was perfect.

And he was my inspiration.

And my pain.

And the only link left to Isabella Swan.

And all of my love.

He was my muse.

And then he was gone.

XxXxXxXxXXXxXXxXXXxxXXxxxxxXXxxXXXXXXXxxXxXxXXXXxxxxxxXXxxXxXxXxXxXxxXxX

PLEASE BE AWARE THAT ALL POLL OPTIONS ARE TIED AND NEED TO BE BROKEN. I WILL ALLOW MULTIPAL SELECTION NOW PLEASE VOTE AGAIN.

ALSO, SING REQUEST/SUGGESTIONS ARE NOW BEING TAKEN.

MORE REVIEWS EQUAL MORE FREQUENT AND OR LONGER CHAPTERS.

IF YOU WANT EDWARD'S POV FOR NEXT CHAPTER SPEAK UP BY PM OR REVIEW.

ALL PICTURES WILL BE POSTED WITHIN TWO DAYS OF THIS UPDATE.