The Diary

Chapter Seven: Welcome to the World

Welcome to the World—Kevin Rudolf

Oh, by the way, I'm going to be editing Jacob's song choice for Chapter Five. Bye Bye Beautiful by Nightwish will fit in later . . . and besides, it seemed to harsh for the exchange. So, it's going to be changed to "Come Back to Me" by David Cook. I heard it on the radio today and instantly remembered I put it on my iPod months ago. It works.

OOO

I was starting to realize that it took a lot to get a mythical creature drunk.

Staring at the glass in my hand, about the seventh or eighth one, it occurred to me that I could possibly be immune to the effects of alcohol. It wouldn't be the first time it was mentioned. I didn't ever recall hearing of Sam or Embry or Quil drunk, and Jacob didn't do beer.

Still, I stared furiously at the empty shot-glass, willing it to buzz my brain.

"Wow," said Hensley. "When I said I was going to pay for the drinks, I didn't think you'd down all of this."

I barely acknowledged her in my state of rage. Why wasn't this working? I was supposed to be drunk out of my mind right now. I was supposed to not be aware of where I was or what I was doing. I was supposed to be giggling on the floor.

But I wasn't.

When I'd arrived at Hensley's house, like she'd asked, she'd taken one look at me and decided that all I was in need of was a good hair-brushing and a barrette. For herself, however, she took about and hour. She played this way with her hair, tugged that way at her outfit, smudged her make-up just so . . . . My annoyance level had shot through the roof about thirty minutes after she'd started. I wanted to stop thinking, already.

And then we'd arrived here, a secret underage club in the worst possible part of town, and I found myself ignoring the disorienting alarms in my head, once again. Instead, I'd gotten in line, tapped my foot, and waited.

And here I was. I hadn't moved in the past two hours, except for my mouth and hand. I just sat there, drinking away my life like some loner.

"I'll pay for the drinks," I growled at her, still glaring at my glass. "You can relax."

Her pretty face was suddenly wary. "I was just kidding," she said, her trimmed eyebrows raising. "But if you want to pay, by all means, be my guest."

She sounded so much like Leah Clearwater that it made my head hurt. Pathetically, I laid my head on the bar, trying to ignore the pounding music.

"All right," announced Hensley/Leah, finally. "Liven up a little. Let's dance."

"One more drink," I choked out, determined. She saw my face and instantly gave up the battle, moving away a few chairs.

The bartender shook my drink, a smile on his face. "Now this," he told me smugly, a wicked grin on his face, "is guaranteed to fuck you over."

That word again, my mind registered numbly. I'd heard it countless times since I'd arrived, and I still had no idea what it meant.

My shot glass was filled.

Smiling, I raised it to my lips.

And bang, did it hit.

OOO

"Bella?" called Edward anxiously. "What in the world did you contact J. Jenks for?"

She looked up from the papers on her desk, which were scattered in alarming disarray. "I just wanted to see if he had any leads on a girl named Vanessa Wolfe," she murmured delicately, her face crumpling. "But he doesn't. He said if she'd used her fake ID, he'd know."

She is much too smart to do that, thought Edward glumly. These past few hours had been some of the most torturous, painful ones of his life, and realizing that he could do nothing hadn't been much help.

"What do you mean, she's missing?" Rosalie and Alice had hissed in unison, eyes livid, wide with rage. "She can't possibly just run off by herself," Rosalie had continued, her fists clenched. "Didn't you see her onto the plane?"

"That's my fault," Jacob allowed. They were some of the first words he'd said since their discovery. "I left her so I wouldn't have to watch her leave. It was a selfish choice, but at the time I didn't think it would do much harm, if any."

Rosalie was too frightened to say anything derogatory, and she merely stared at the pain stricken boy in sympathy. A first for her.

Emmett said, "Where do we start?" as Emse tearlessly sobbed, leaning on Carlisle in the corner.

Jasper had spoken up then, his expression calculating. "We start," he began, his military charisma coming through, "by going to every one of our houses. We may not find anything, but we have to start somewhere. Jacob, you go to Forks; I'm sure Sam will be happy to hear from you, and if you can, get them searching for Renesmee as well. Alice, you and I will go to London . . ."

OOO

"I can't believe I've never been dancing like this before!" I shouted over the roar of music and people, my hips jutting side to side. I laughed as my hair bounced around my face, obscuring my vision of Hensley's face, but I could hear her perfectly fine.

"Me neither. You're so good at it—like a natural."

I refused to acknowledge this at all, because it was too painful to be reminded of my glory days in the Cullen household.

I wasn't drunk, I thought as the song changed. Merely buzzed. But still, it was as if my memories were suppressed. Why, I found myself wondering, lifting my arms above my head, was I in Arizona anyway? Maybe I was getting bolder. Had my dad paid for this trip? Obviously. Where was Jacob?

It hit me like a tidal wave, every now and then. I would remember, as soon as Jacob's name hit my consciousness, that I'd run away. And then I would stop dancing, because what was the point if I couldn't show off for anybody?

It was like a vicious cycle. A skipping record. A song stuck on repeat.

"Why'd you stop?" asked Hensley, for about the fiftieth time that night. She brushed her hair from her eyes and stared at me, trying to stay on her feet. Alcohol and clumsy people didn't mix.

"I want to go home," I said.

"What?"

I sighed. "I want to go home."

She made the motion of a deaf person, staring at me in confusion. "I can't hear you," she mouthed.

"I want to go home!" I shouted.

She understood this time. Pulling back with a resigned and disappointed expression, she nodded and pushed her way out of the throng of people. I got the vague feeling that she liked to party a lot, and when she did, it wasn't just for a short time. But I couldn't keep it up. It had been fun for a moment or two, but I was tired and ashamed now.

I had said I wanted to go home. Where was that?

My thoughts flitted across my consciousness without much form or sense. I saw mere images, little blips of my life before this incident. And I followed Hensley out of the club in a daze.

"Crap," she muttered once the sound had faded behind us. "Oh, fucking hell."

That word again, I thought vaguely. It was going to become part of my vocabulary if I wasn't careful.

"What?" I asked her, although I didn't care.

She turned to me, pushing the ragged blonde bangs from her eyes. "I'm glad you wanted to leave." She paused to curse again. "My curfew is in twenty minutes. I'll never make it back to my apartment in time. They lock the doors at one."

"They don't let you in?"

"No."

Somehow, this didn't seem like such a big deal to me. I could always break her in if she needed me to, or I could just run her back.

What are you thinking? growled my more reasonable self. You can't do that, that's against the law.

What law? I wondered.

The laws by the guys with the capes.

I shuddered at my revelation, and settled for something more acceptable. "I can get you back on time."

"You can?"

I nodded.

OOO

"Hey, Charlie."

The aging sheriff turned to look at the figure in his doorway, his eyebrows shooting up. "Hey, Jake." He mumbled, "You look . . . exactly the same."

A pain laugh ripped from the boy's chest. "Yeah," he agreed, clearing his throat. "Any word on Ness?"

Charlie shook his head, sighing. "None."

"I checked the Cullen's house, but she wasn't there. I thought maybe she may have at least come there before taking off again. I even went to the Seattle airport to see if she went through, but her scent wasn't there."

Charlie's eyes bugged. "Jake, I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk so normally about how people smell."

"Sorry."

"Where're the rest of the Cullen's?"

"Checking other places. My guess is they haven't had much luck."

Charlie didn't take this in good stride. His shoulders shook and he wiped a tear from his watering eye.

"Hey, Sheriff, what's wrong?"

It was a stupid question—Jake was well aware of that, but he had a feeling that there was more to what Charlie was feeling then he let on.

"It's just," said Charlie, his voice shaking, "I deal with things like this in my job. I hear about these things all the time. I never anticipated it would happen to this family, to Renesmee. I feel like I should have been able to prevent it."

Jacob stood there, awkward, trying to decide how to respond. He wasn't used to Charlie and his emotional baggage. "It's not your fault," he muttered, almost intelligibly, and then gained speed: "Charlie, this was her decision. I'd like to blame someone for it"—Edward, he added silently—"but Renesmee was the one who planned it. Nobody saw it coming. Not even Edward."

"What do you mean, not even Edward?"

Jacob gulped. Need to know, Charlie had said once upon a time. So he lied. "Because he's her dad. But hey, I need to get down to La Push and see Sam. You gonna be okay?"

Charlie nodded, the action seeming heavy. "Yeah," he said. "I think we'll all be fine."

OOO

There was no subway in Phoenix, which I hadn't anticipated. Still, it wasn't difficult to hail a taxi with my beauty, which I was pleased with at the moment. I was giddy, overconfident, when we were a block away from her apartment.

"Hey," I said, my cockiness shining through my words, "why don't we just cut through here?"

She hesitated, staring at the alley that I'd suggested. "I don't think that's a good idea."

I peered down into the black, but I didn't see anything. I sensed no danger. "Why not?"

"It's just—you're not supposed to walk in dark alleys at night."

I smiled at her. "What if I told you I have really great night vision?" I tried.

She was still not interested. "I don't know."

"Why go around the entire block when we could make it to your apartment in thirty seconds?" I asked. "You only have so much time."

With a sigh, she consented, following me into the darkness. I was light on my feet, happy with the way the night had turned out. I was starting to like alcohol, the way it took the edge off of your depression. I had a feeling I'd be staying here for a while.

And then, out of nowhere, Hensley screamed and a rough, heavy hand fell on my shoulder. I was lifted off the ground and slammed into the nearest convenient wall. Pain erupted in my side.

"Ness?" Hensley screeched.

When the hand stopped applying pressure, I slid down the wall to the dirty, grimy floor, my head still reeling. What had just happened.

And then I opened my eyes and saw beady black ones, peering down at me angrily. Daryl.

"Hey, pretty lady. Who knew you looked so pretty without that hat?"

His tone sent tremors down my spine, making me want to retch. The cockiness I'd been experiencing earlier had vanished, and I was definitely sober.

"So," he continued, grabbing a lock of my hair and yanking, "since you rid us of our fun this afternoon, I think it's time for a little payback."

My eyes went wide.

"We're gonna fuck you over, sweetheart," he snarled in my face. "Just you wait."

OOO

Ehhh.

So….. yeah…. Don't really know what to write down here.

Jamie.