Part I, Chapter VIII: Little Pink Houses
Disclaimer: I like to play pretend in the house Stephanie Meyer created but I really like to do renovations because I don't particularly like the finishes or the majority of the house (is that a witty enough way to say I own shit and think that the Twilight Universe has promise? Yeah, I think so).
Warning: This story contains Adult Content. Beware.
Summary: Charlie Swan went missing on the 12th of November 2005. They found no blood, and no body but the police had stopped looking. That's why I was coming back to Forks. I had to find my father. Follow Bella in this dark exploration of what the Twilight Universe could be when faced with the reality of wolves pretending to be boys, and monsters pretending to be high school students.
Missing Youth
by: brbbbe (Emily)
Kiss me on the mouth and set me free
Sing me like a choir
I can be the subject of your dreams
Your sickening desire
Don't you want to see a man up close?
A phoenix in the fire
So kiss me on the mouth and set me free
But please don't bite
Troye Sivan - Bite
Previously:
I opened the door, looking to my feet as I heard his quiet voice. "Stay away from the Rez, Bella. It's not safe for you to see … me."
I didn't protest.
After what I had seen today, I agreed.
"Goodbye Jacob."
"Bye, Bella."
BELLA
The memory of Jacobs's lips haunted me for four days.
On the fifth, Christmas Eve, I knew that I couldn't stay in the house any longer. I couldn't think about the way his scorching hands cradled my face, or how his fingers had dragged along my thighs. I couldn't think of the way his full lips devoured mine, or how he had breathed my name, for when I closed my eyes, that was all I could hear.
They very though of Jacob followed me like the black plague since he had kissed me. I felt like a pariah, holed up in my house and scouring over Charlie's books in the hopes that I wouldn't think about the fiery touch that he had. I didn't want to be consumed by the thought of him, but with every minute passed it seemed harder to ignore.
And so my entire life became Charlie's disappearance. I went to a few of the last places he had been seen, except for Billy's of course. I wouldn't dare to go back to La Push, not after last time.
"So you saw him, buying bait?" I asked Mrs Newton, cocking a brow.
Mrs Newton nodded, a sad smile on her lips. "Yes, dear. He came in wanting to buy bait for the Saturday. Charlie, and Billy Black always went out on a Saturday. Have you tried talking to Billy Black?"
I nodded. "Yeah, he's not very helpful."
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry," She said, shaking her head. "Ever since the man lost his wife, he's been a bit of a hack. God, even when Chief Swan wanted to arrest that Uley boy Billy stood up for him. Said somethin' about how that boy was the good of the tribe, although I can't think it did him much good when he got his girlfriend killed."
"I thought Emily was attacked by a bear?" I asked, leaning forward.
Karen Newton was a gossip. Karen Newton liked to talk, whether it be about rumors, hearsay, or just pure lies. Unlike Tiffany Call, who seemed desperate to have someone to listen to what the La Push gang had done to her son, Karen just spoke because she liked the sound of her own voice. I felt sorry for her son, Mike, who despite his smiles would surely have to endure his mothers own voice.
I wondered, while I was listening to her rave about the curiosities of Forks, if she had any hobbies. I could imagine that Karen Newton was very much like Lauren Mallory, or Jessica Stanley when she was in high school.
"She was," Mrs Newton said, before she let out a laugh. "Officially. But the Uley boy was the one who led her out into the woods. They have witnesses that say that he came out of the woods alone, didn't even think of the girl he had left in the forest."
"Maybe they had a fight," I began.
Mrs Newton scoffed. "Sam Uley and Emily Young were a scandal, I'll tell you that, Bella. Do you know who Leah Clearwater is?"
I shook my head 'no'.
"Leah Clearwater was Sam Uley's fiancé, and Emily Young's cousin," Mrs Newton told me. "One day, when Emily was visiting, Leah introduced them and two weeks later Emily was moving in to Sam's house, and Leah had been dumped."
"That's … horrible," I murmured, wondering why she was telling me this. "But what does that have anything to do with Emily Young being attacked by a bear?"
Mrs Newton shrugged. "I don't know too much details, dear. All I know is what people tell me, and a lot of people like to talk about what happened to the Young girl. Even your father thought it was strange."
"He did?" I questioned.
"Mm hm," She hummed, nodding. "The chief didn't like to talk about the cases he was investigating, but whenever the Young case was brought up, he made it very clear that he didn't think a bear had mauled Emily Young."
"Then why was it ruled that way?"
Mrs Newton shook her head. "I'm not too sure, dear. Maybe you should ask Deputy Regan about it, although I'm pretty sure he won't tell you much. He didn't share the same view as your father."
"He thought she was actually mauled?" I asked, cocking a brow.
Mrs Newton nodded. "A lot of people do. Now, did you need anything else?"
I realized, then, that the conversation was effectively over. I shook my head as she gave me my change for my new boots, and offered me the bag. As I grabbed it, Mrs Newton offered me one last smile. "And Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"The day that your father came in here, he was asking me for to get an address for him."
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why would you need to get him an address?"
Mrs Newton passed me a folded piece of paper, her eyes downcast as her perfectly manicured hands passed me it. "Because I'm the only person who knows where he lives."
I took the piece of paper with confusion, before I was ushered out of the store.
XXX
532 Portage St, Neah Bay, Washington.
I didn't expect to be driving to Neah Bay on Christmas Eve.
With snow sticking to the road, it had been a slow journey on my part. I knew I probably should have left the journey until after Christmas, but I couldn't stop myself. When I had looked at the address, and had known it was so close, nothing could have stopped me from getting in my car and making the long drive.
The Makah Reservation was slightly bigger than La Push – existing between the beautiful forests of the Olympic Peninsula and the moss covered cliffs that took the brunt of the oceans anger. It was a beautiful place, or so I had been told with the quick Google search I had done.
Emily Young had come from the Makah reservation.
Emily Young had lived there all her life.
I knew that, as when I had made the quick Google search, the article that popped up included Emily's name. Emily was born in the Makah reservation, to Paul and Jennifer Young. Paul and Jennifer Young had two other children: Richard, and Kelly. Richard had his own family, while Kelly was only just starting High School. The family had been inseparable.
Paul and Jennifer Young buried their daughter in the cemetery where the rest of her family was buried. It had been a simple service, attended by everyone that Emily had touched. That meant that the funeral had been filled to capacity, with the attendees flowing out the doors. Emily Young had been loved by everyone she had met.
Or so the article claimed.
I prepared myself for the sight of Emily Young's parents. I prepared myself for Emily Young's brother. The person whose house I was driving to had to be related to Emily, in some way or the other. The person whose house I was driving to was someone who my Dad was interested in talking to.
532 Portage St, Neah Bay, Washington, was a small cabin. Faded pink slats were spattered by rust, and a bright green door seemed to be the only thing that gave the house any sort of character. A rust bucket of a car sat in the front yard, snow piled on it's roof. A truck was on the other side of the pathway, half filled with things from the junkyard.
This was the not the house I expected.
I expected a house with a wrap around porch, and a SUV sitting out front. I expected the sight of a Christmas tree to be glowing through the window, filled the brim with Christmas presents. I expected the smell of Turkey to be filling the air, even from the front yard. I expected a house suitable for the family of Emily Young.
Not this.
Rubbing my chest, where the hole was gaping open, I told myself to get out of the truck. The small house shouldn't look as intimidating as it was, but for me, it was everything I wanted to avoid. Just get out of the truck, Bella, I told myself, blinking at the sight of the house. Come on, Bella. Just get out.
Pushing open my door, and grabbing my jacket, I began to move towards the front door. My teeth gnawed at my bottom lip as I came to the vibrant green door, wanting nothing more than to run back to my truck. This didn't feel right. This didn't feel good.
I raised my hand to knock, only to hear the sound of a mans voice. Stumbling back, I shook my head. No, I need to leave, I thought, turning back to my truck. I never should have come here – I never should have driven here. Why did I keep doing this to myself? Why am I even here? Charlie's gone. He's been gone for a month, and a half. If he wasn't back, he wasn't going to be.
"Hey!"
I froze, the sound of a gruff voice pulling me from my internal rant. Oh god. The person whose house I had stumbled upon had caught me, snooping. "Hey, curls! Turn around."
I looked over my shoulder, my breath catching in my throat.
I had seen few pictures of Sam Uley. The pictures I had seen were mainly in one of the Quileute books Charlie had. Every day, as I scoured through the Quileute words, I would find more hidden pictures. It was like Charlie had photocopied pictures from files – probably from Emily's file.
Sam Uley was a monster of a man. In the pictures I had seen, one taken from the funeral, and one from a bonfire, he was like … Jacob. He was a bit smaller in height than Jacob was, but every bit as intimidating. In the picture taken at the bon fire, Sam Uley had looked happy. He didn't look like the man from the funeral. Instead, he looked like a completely different person.
The picture was dated 2002.
Sam Uley looked half the size of the man in the funeral image. He was less beefy, and less dark. He definitely wasn't as tall, or as troubled. Sam Uley looked like the teenager he was, rather than the man he had become by 2005. In the image at the bon fire, Sam had his arm around a gorgeous woman, who had looked at him like mere mortals stare at the sun. The girl wasn't Emily Young. I could only assume that the girl, who wore a sparkling ring, was Leah Clearwater.
In the picture taken at his girlfriend's funeral was that of a different man. In this picture, he was the monster. When I imagined what destruction was, I imagined that image of Sam Uley. He didn't look like a man who had killed his girlfriend – far from it. He looked like a man who had been killed.
The man that stood in the doorway of the pink house looked every bit the inch of Sam Uley.
Add on twenty years.
"Hey, curls," He said, throwing me a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I stared at him, gaping. "I- my name is Isabella Swan."
"Swan," He echoed, his face crumbling as he glanced around, before motioning for me to come in. "Lets talk inside."
I nodded, scrambling to get inside. I brushed passed the man, still unsure of who he was and why I was here. Inside the pink house was a sloppy mans abode. It was small, and cramped. It seemed to be more of a storage unit than a home. Boxes were piled atop each other, hiding the walls from view and any photos I might see. The kitchen was cramped, and filled with dirty dishes. The sight of a frozen meal on the kitchen bench made me halt, before the man pushed passed me and put the remnants of the meal in the garbage.
I turned to look to the living room, spying a large TV that seemed way too extravagant to be in the small pink house. The orange couch was pushed up against the wall, but even then that didn't leave much room for leisure in the small living room. I glanced across the walls, looking for a picture, any picture, until I saw one framed picture. I took a few steps, before I was standing in front of it – my eyes wide as I saw the man, and a small boy with a mop of black hair and the same russet skin.
Sam.
"Sorry, it's not usually this messy," He explained, running his hand over his russet skin. "I didn't expect company."
"You're Sam Uley's father?" I asked, my eyes unmoving from the picture.
He nodded. "Joshua Uley."
"Joshua," I echoed, before I dropped my gaze. "I'm so sorry for intruding – I've just realized how rude this is. Karen Newton gave me your address."
Joshua smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. "Karen Newton? God I haven't seen her for a while."
"Are you friends or something?" I asked.
He laughed. "Or somethin'."
"I … my father was looking for you."
"Chief Swan?" He questioned. "I heard about his disappearance. My kids missing as well."
"Sam?" I asked.
He nodded. "And that's who you're here for, right?"
"No," I began, before I stopped. "I don't know why I'm here. I'm here because you were apparently of interest to my father and I want to know why."
Joshua shrugged. "I wouldn't know."
"Or maybe it's that your son is the one of interest," I murmured, before meeting his brown eyes. "Do you know why your son would be the interest of my father, Joshua?"
Joshua held my gaze, before he shrugged again. "I ain't seen my kid in two years. You think I know where he is? Ask his mother. Allison will be able to tell you a lot more about that kids whereabouts than I will."
"Allison?" I questioned.
"His mother," Joshua supplied. "My ex wife."
I nodded in understanding, before I asked my next question. "Joshua, do you think Emily Young was attacked by a bear?"
"Emily Young?" He repeated, before realization came over his face. "That's my kids girl, right?"
"Right," I said with a nod. "She was killed in June."
"I remember," He murmured, rubbing his hand across his chin. "You here 'bout her, then? 'Bout how she died?"
"No," I said quickly, before I second-guessed myself. "I don't know. Maybe."
Joshua chuckled. "The chief called me two weeks before he went missing. Somethin' about my tribes legends."
He spat the word 'tribe' as if it was a curse word. "I've read some of them."
Joshua chuckled darkly. "I didn't realize pale faces could read our legends."
I flushed. "I mean, most of is in Quileute but some legends can be found on like, um, Google."
"You're not reading the right legends then," He said with a laugh. "Even your old man was digging deeper than Google."
"So you know the legends then?" I questioned.
"Pale faces aren't supposed to know," He spat, "but yes, I know the legends. I am an Elder, even if my own kid ran me from my home."
"What do you mean Sam ran you from La Push?" I questioned, my eyebrows furrowing.
"Sam's more valuable to the council than I ever was," Joshua said with a shrug. "Now that the council have their little prodigy, they don't need anyone with a bit of sanity."
"Prodigy?"
Joshua chortled. "Have you heard the legends before, Isabella?"
"I've read a little about …. about the Cold Ones," I murmured, meeting his eyes.
Joshua's head snapped up. "You know about the Cold Ones? Did they tell you?"
"No, they didn-"
"Then how do you know?" He asked, standing up. "How do you know about the Cold Ones?"
"My dad, he- my dad- I've been reading through my Dad's notes," I told him, gnawing at the bottom of my lip. "He has these Quileute books, and he has annotations in them. He wrote about the 'Cold Ones'."
Joshua Uley laughed. "This is meant to be trade secrets, and a little Hokwat knows more than a lot of our own people. Listen to me carefully, Isabella. The Cold Ones live amongst us – Emily Young? A Cold One found her. And if you're not careful, they will come for you too."
"But what are they?" I questioned, almost frantic.
He chuckled. "Isabella, I promise you – you do not want to know."
"I don't?" I asked, standing straighter. "Try me."
Joshua Uley shook his head, running his hands through his hair. I analyzed him then, looking from the spots of sun that plagued his skin to the signs of aging that had caught up with him. His face crinkled, at times, like an un-ironed shirt – wrinkled and pruned. I wondered how old Joshua had been when Sam was born, for he looked a lot older than he should.
It was when I spotted the overflowing trashcan of beers. I averted my eyes quickly; not wanting to intrude more on this mans lifestyle. I just needed to know what happened to Emily Young – maybe it would help me find something about Charlie. And at the moment, Joshua Uley seemed like the best bet.
"You know, my kid isn't a bad guy," He slurred, shaking his head. "Sam was never bad, not like his ol' man. Allison made sure of that. My kid was a good boy, always a good boy. I was always in and out after Allison and I divorced, but when I was there, I could see how the council treated my kid. We're as full blooded as the Blacks or the Clearwater's, and yet they have the nerve to look down on my son. And then he changed."
"He changed?" I asked. "To what? A Cold One?"
Joshua choked on his laughter. "You need to study the legends closer, Hokwat. If you don't, you won't know a thing about our tribe or what happened to your daddy."
"So you think what happened to my Dad had something to do with Sam?"
Joshua shook his head. "Your daddy went missing a month ago, curls. My kid hasn't been seen since June."
"But people think Sam hurt Emily," I began. "And you even said that Emily- that a Cold One found her."
"If I could place a bet, I'd say your daddy was taken by a Cold One," He said simply, his words a slap in my face. "You need to leave, Isabella. It's Christmas Eve, and it's getting late. I wouldn't want you to be driving in the dark."
"Just answer this," I said. "Was Emily Young killed by a bear?"
Joshua Uley remained silent.
And silence was more of a confirmation than his words ever would be.
Preview:
"Bella!"
I had been at the grocery store the first time Alice Cullen had spoken to me.
I turned at the sound of my name being called. I had only ever heard that sort of voice before, and it had belonged to a Cullen, so it didn't take me much to deduce who was calling me.
A/N: It's Monday! Hope it answers a lot of your questions, or maybe gives you more questions. I'll see you guys on Friday.
Hokwat: It's a Quileute word for 'outsider', or someone that isn't Quileute.
