-Macaroni Not Sex-
Mh. Three weeks have passed since the time, time started and even phrasing it doesn't make any sense to me. People keep revolving like spheres of the night, they don't seem to stop. You know when you don't know who to be? When you just kind of get this personality out of nowhere? Where are the strawberry fields forever that you promised, Beatles?
"Bella, can you please come out here!? Open this door!" Edward screams like a girl, and I bet he probably knows that and doesn't even care…maybe.
Whoa, whoa. Stop.
What happened and how did I get here? I hate flashbacks they make me woozy. Suspiciously similar to living.
I guess McDonald fries don't fix everything.
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"Yeah, you drive pretty nicely. What else can you do?" Yeah, Edward knew what he was doing. Naughty boy.
"Hm. I have to admit that's low even for you." Don't you look cocky? I hate cocky boys and cocky eyebrows. If there is such a thing, I'm staring at them.
"They're classic lines." He huffed.
"Yeah, sure. Let's just…" It hit me. You know like when you're in this place, at this time and a thought comes like a rocket into your brain into the reasonable question of the unreasonable…?
"What?" Looking at me I couldn't help but think that he must be the reason. A-fucking-great.
"Why are we here?"
"What do you mean?" What do I mean?
"Why, let me rephrase, am I here?" I emphasized with my finger to his leather seat. "In this car, with you, in a Wal-Mart parking lot."
"Um…" Yeah. That's what I thought too.
"Mh. We're going back, something is not right." He didn't argue.
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Absolutely nothing was the same since… that. That was nothing anyway so, how could it have changed? My theory is that you read too much fantasy, and one day, without even knowing it, it finally manifests itself into your life. That just plainly sucks. I always wanted to be this great superhero chick with red spandex and an expensive car. Find the man that is in my head constantly without existing and enlarge my attributes. Well, if it didn't happen that way, it didn't go any better.
"God damn it! I'm not going to stand here and beg! Just open it. Please." Whoa, pleading? That's a whole new level of this Edward, and that Edward, and all the others. I shouldn't open it; we all know what's going to happen.
"Go away!"
"Look, I'm sorry. It was wrong. I don't know why I did it, ok?"
"You're an asshole. A big asshole liar!" He was, not because of what he did, but because underneath it all, he cared. Not too much to stop himself, though.
"I can track it down. We'll erase it; it will be old news by a week. I have the connections, you just have to open the door."
And I did open it. This is why Edward Cullen was now kissing me as roughly as before. As hard as the tone when he threatened to kill Angela. As cold as the night that never was there. As passionate as he had me and as regretful as me. Just because I didn't want to stop him, he sucked and licked. Just as he arrived to my neck, he stopped to breathe, and that part of him was stitched into my skin, as were his kisses.
Since this isn't a fairytale, I'll have to keep living to find out what really is.
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My story is Soul's Hemorrhage. But I find it in me you deserve, because I owe it to you, a second chance at this. It's a big transition, you will all catch up. Do you remember me and my words or have you already forgotten? Review, for I'm desperate for attention.
I love you all, in a non-lesbian, but still sexual, passion-y, fire-y, way.
^_^
Kopri.
