Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.

A/N: I'm speechless. 33 reviews? Wow. I have never gotten that many for a chapter. I'm curious though… As of this moment, there are 77 people with this story alerted. How do you have the will power? When an author offers me a preview of the next chapter in exchange for a review, I can never resist. Hmm. Oh, thought I'd mention…Sweet Relief is beyond the 100 review mark. Wow.

Chapter 6: Doom and Gloom

Song: "Miracle!" –Paramore

I've gone for too long

Living like I'm not alive

So I'm going to start over tonight

Beginning with you and I.

***

Sparing no time for glasses or juice, I chugged the bottle. My stomach protested and I paused to cough loudly, almost choking. I went to the kitchen just in case. Vomit would be easier to remove from the kitchen's floor than the carpet. I needed to slow down.

But my heart and my head weren't satisfied with the amount I had consumed. They wanted more. Much more.

I took another gulp, still not feeling the effects quite like I wanted to. Slumping down with my back pressing against the kitchen cabinets, I wrapped my arms around my legs, bottle still in hand. My head found my knees and the tears continued to flow.

I wasn't sure how long I had stayed like that—not moving, not drinking, only sobbing—but eventually I felt a pair of cold arms around me. Stiffening, my head shot up to meet the eyes of someone I did not expect.

Rosalie.

By this time my tears had dried up, but I still could not trust what was before me. A wave of calm hit me and my eyes darted around the room until they found another pair I did not expect.

Jasper.

Sniffling, I glanced at the door warily to see that it had been shut and locked. Whether it was to prevent me from escaping or to give us some privacy, I didn't know. Probably a mixture of both.

There are few reasons why Rosalie and Jasper would be here. With Rosalie's strangely comforting arms wrapped around me, I couldn't suppress the feelings of doom and gloom. Rosalie had never really showed me any kindness, just animosity. Sure she had expressed concern in the bathroom the first day I saw Edward, but that had to be a fluke. Really, it had only fueled my belief that I had dreamt everything up. If she was here, trying to soothe me, then it must be bad. Very bad.

I sat quietly, waiting for one of them to speak. Usually I didn't like it when Jasper manipulated my emotions, but now I couldn't be anymore grateful. I was tired of always feeling sad and depressed. I welcomed the calming change.

When several minutes went by with them just staring at me, I decided to break the silence.

"Whatever you have to say, just get on with it. I'm sure you guys have better things to do than sit there and watch me fall apart," I rasped. The crying and the liquor only inflicted pain on my throat.

Finally Jasper spoke. "I'm sorry for Alice earlier today," he said slowly, "I've never seen her act that way. Well, at least not as badly as she did today."

Taking a deep breath and allowing the calm he was projecting to wash over me, I found the strength to answer. "It's my fault really. I should've known it wasn't just…Edward," I swallowed, tears welling in my eyes despite Jasper's and my own efforts, "I shouldn't have assumed…"

Jasper's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"You all hate me." I can't believe he made me say it.

"What?" Rosalie asked with what appeared to be genuine shock. They were very good at masking their emotions, especially with your own personal emotion manipulator standing in the room.

"It's ok Rosalie. You don't have to pretend. Edward and Alice sure aren't," I mumbled.

I guess it was Jasper's turn to speak. "Isabella, what are you talking about?"

"Look, I really appreciate you two being so nice to me…really, you have no idea…but I know neither of you like me. I mean it was my fault you all left in the first place and I know how you hate moving."

Rosalie looked like she was about to speak, but I cut her off, directing my words at Jasper. "And it was my fault you lost control. I know it caused a lot of problems between you and the rest of your family. Especially Edward…" at the time, I added silently.

Their eyes were locked together, their lips moving too quickly for me to have any chance of hearing or reading their lips, so I just laid my head back onto my knees. A minute later, I felt a cold hand coaxing my head up. Rosalie was seated on the floor beside me, while Jasper had moved a bit closer.

Rosalie's eyes were gentle as she spoke. "Um Isabella, we haven't left Forks since we moved here." I stared at her. Then Jasper coughed, gathering my attention. "And I have never 'lost control'," he used air quotes.

Although I could feel the confusion and acceptance that Jasper was throwing at me, my own fury and bitterness prevailed. Or maybe it was the alcohol. How I was even able to speak to them about things that had been festering in mind—bringing out my darkest thoughts—was beyond me. It really must have been the gin.

"You are all taking Edward's words way too seriously. He said I would forget with time, not that you would all ignore me and pretend my entire life hadn't changed the moment I entered that Biology class and became Edward's lab partner!" I yelled, allowing my anger to surround me and block out the waves of tranquility Jasper was sending toward me.

"Isabella, you've got it all wrong," Rosalie began, "You and Edward were never lab partners in Biology."

This was just getting plain ridiculous. Did they really expect me to buy this? Even with Jasper's ability, did they really expect me to just believe I had imagined it all?

But wasn't that what you were trying to convince yourself of before? My thoughts retorted, once again working against me.

Even with the doubt and the insecurities floating through my head, I knew deep down in my bones that what I had shared with Edward had been real. After seeing him today, I knew there was no way I could have dreamt him up because although he was the man of my dreams, my mind did not have the capacity to dream up something so magnificent—something that would surpass any artist's dream.

Still being bombarded with outside emotions, I shot a glare at Jasper. "Oh could you just stop! I want to feel what I'm feeling. Not what you want me to feel."

His jaw went slack for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure and snapped his mouth shut. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I am getting really tired of these games.

"Edward didn't take Biology last year."

We both looked at Rosalie who was fidgeting slightly. When did Rosalie ever fidget?

Looking up at me cautiously, she continued, "He was in advanced Biology before we moved to Forks so they let him test his way out. He never took Biology at Fork's High School."

I was speechless. There were other people in that Biology class, not just me. Did they really believe they could just convince me that I had imagined a year of sitting next to Edward?

"Stop it," I whispered.

"Isab—"

"STOP IT!" I shrieked. "You can't make me forget. You can't make me forget. You. Can't. Make. Me. Forget," I repeated, more to myself than to them. I must have sounded like a stubborn child, throwing a tantrum.

"Isabella, it's ok," Rosalie replied, sending worried glances in Jasper's direction.

Looking into their eyes, I knew they weren't going to back down. They were going to continue with their sick game. And I just…lost it.

"NO! It's NOT ok." I stood up, walking toward Jasper. His eyes grew wide, likely sensing my determination and wondering what I was about to do.

Before he could speak, I lifted up my sleeve, revealing the scar I had gotten on my last birthday. "You honestly expect me to believe I imagined this?" I asked incredulously.

Rosalie, moving at a human pace, walked over to us to get a look at my scar. "Isabella what happened?" she asked.

They were still going to keep up their façade. They weren't going to admit that I was right. But I knew one thing they wouldn't be able to explain away.

Bringing up the arm with the scar from James's bite, I pointed at the crescent moon shape. "Care to explain this?" I whispered softly.

Rosalie and Jasper gasped as they took in the sight of my scar. The scar that I had no doubt would forever be upon my body—a constant reminder that Edward's love had outweighed his thirst.

A tear fell off my cheek as I realized that was no longer the case.

Jasper traced the scar with his index finger. "Where did you get that?" he asked, studying my face intently.

"You already know the answer to that."

"Where?" he repeated desperately.

"Don't tell me you don't remember? I spent quite a bit of time with you and Alice before running away to that ballet studio."

"Ballet studio?" he asked in mock confusion.

I sighed, wondering how long this was going to continue before they admitted that I was right. This pointless line of questioning was starting to bother me.

"Yes. James tricked me into going there by pretending to have my mother. Then Edward showed up. While they were fighting, James bit me. Then the rest of your family showed up to finish him off. His venom was already spreading through my body, but Edward didn't want me to become a vampire," I said bitterly. "So he sucked the venom out himself, despite the way my blood calls to him," I finished, with a feeling of pride. I knew Edward could never kill me. Not physically anyway…

It was a very quick explanation that lacked a surplus of details, but I knew their vampire memories wouldn't have any trouble replaying the scene. Glancing up from my scar for the first time since I started my explanation, I saw two pairs of eyes that looked close to popping out of their heads.

"No Rosalie," I heard Jasper mumble, his eyes shifting from me, to her, to my scar over and over.

"Come on Jasper. Look at this," she pointed to my scar," there's no way she could be faking!"

Jasper just shook his head, maintaining the constant shift of his eyes. "This…this isn't possible." I didn't see what was so impossible about it. Humans may not have flawless memories like vampires, but that didn't mean they could just forget something so life changing so soon.

"Isabella, when Angela was talking to you about dating Mike earlier, you didn't appear to be bothered by it," Rosalie said out of the blue.

"I never really pictured those two together so I guess it's a little weird…" I trailed off. I have nothing against Mike; it's just that I didn't think Angela was his type—not counting what happened today. None of that could be relevant right now though.

"She mentioned kissing him Monday night... That didn't bother you?" she questioned, searching my face.

"No. Again a little odd, but it didn't really bother me all that much. Why? Should it have?" I asked, completely lost on where this could be going.

"Jasper?" Rosalie glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Jasper's expression was one of pure concentration as he stared at me.

"Indifference," he answered. The way he was looking at me caused an involuntary blush to color my cheeks. "And now embarrassment?" he added.

"Maybe you should stop staring at her so forcefully," Rosalie chided. Realizing the reason for my blush, he diverted his gaze to my scar. "What about Alice's…?" Rosalie made a pointed glance at me, purposely not finishing her question.

"Alice's vision?" I finished in annoyance.

Both of their heads snapped towards me. I sighed again for the millionth time, getting more irritated with their antics by the second.

"Alice has visions," I pointed at Jasper, "you sense and manipulate emotions, and Edward reads minds."

"How did you know all of that?" Jasper asked in wonder. They were really taking this "playing dumb" thing too far.

"Because you told me!" I snapped. Technically they didn't each specifically tell me what their gifts were, but Edward did fill in the blanks. Still, they knew what I meant.

Remembering Rosalie's words, I became curious. "Alice had a vision involving me?" Jasper looked at Rosalie, appearing to be silently debating on whether to tell me. Finally, he grumbled in defeat.

"She had a vision of you and Edward…together."

In that instant, it felt like my whole body had shut down. There was nothing. My heart was silent, my breathing had ceased, and I was frozen. The only thing there, were his words.

"Isabella?" Rosalie was looking at me with concern.

The sound of her voice and her golden eyes snapped me out of it. Now as all of my internal organs began to resume function, everything was kicked into overdrive.

"W-what?" I gasped, believing my ears had deceived me. "N-no, that can't b-be. H-he d-doesn't l-love me anymore," I croaked, my eyes stinging with tears. So much for that liquid courage.

Rosalie wrapped her arms around me, placing my head on her shoulder. "Shh. It's ok."

A rush of calm assaulted my anguish, helping the easing of my sobs.

Right now, I live and I breathe for him. Not for Charlie. Not for Renee. They would both be so much happier without me. To be honest, I was being selfish by not ending my life just to catch brief moments of him. He was the reason I even bothered going to school, but I would not delude myself to think he enjoyed my company.

But if Alice was having visions of us together…did that mean there was a chance? Was there a chance that Edward would accept me once more and love me like he once did? Assuming he had ever loved me at all…

Was there the slightest chance that he would, that he could ever want to be with me again?

Part of me doesn't think so. Part of me thinks it's very sad that I could believe it to be a possible outcome. Part of me looks at my reflection every morning and sees a broken and pathetic girl that will never be worthy of his or anyone else's love.

There's another part of me though—a less rational and smaller part that wants to hope. A part of me that conjures up irrational arguments to support the theory that he could ever love me.

Remember how happy he was? That couldn't have all been fake. Part of me says.

For the most part, I have been able to drown that part of me and its crazy notions with thoughts of my own inadequacy. There is one factor now that will not be so easy to ignore—Alice's visions.

You'll never catch me betting against Alice.

I felt Rosalie stiffen and I immediately pulled away, checking to see if any of my limbs were bleeding. Her eyes were sort of narrowed in a kind of thoughtful way, the way some people look when they're really concentrating on something, or trying to do math in their head.

"Have you noticed anything…different lately?" she asked, focusing her narrowed gaze on me.

"What are you getting at Rosalie?" Jasper questioned. She held up her finger to him, acting more like herself than she had all week.

"A few things. Why?" I answered.

"What kinds of things?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"Jessica has been acting differently," I replied, unable to see the relevance of my obliviousness recently.

"Different how?"

"I don't know, I guess she just seems…more considerate." Jessica had really been kind of nice to me this week. She wasn't giving me the silent treatment for giving her the cold shoulder the past months and she genuinely looked like she cared.

"Anything or anyone else?" Jasper was now staring at me with the same type of look that Rosalie had. They were both thinking very hard about something.

"Angela acted oddly earlier. Oh and everyone keeps calling me Isabella." Honestly, the common use of my full name was really starting to get on my nerves. What was wrong with just calling me Bella like I preferred?

Jasper spoke up then. "Isabella is your name…isn't it?" he asked doubtfully.

"Of course it's my name Jasper, but everyone knows I like to be called Bella," I sighed. Was there some sort of vampire version of amnesia? If not, then what was the point of this game? Did they just decide one day: Hey let's all pretend Bella is crazy and really drive her insane?

"That's it?"

No that wasn't it. There was one big difference that was more important than the others. "You're here," I whispered as if the words would cause them to disappear before my very eyes.

"What about Edward?"

I took a deep breath. "Edward has been…" I swallowed the vomit threatening to rise up my throat, "…difficult since I first saw him on Tuesday."

Rosalie put her hand on my shoulder. "Have you noticed anything different about him?"

Besides the loathing I could clearly see in his eyes every time he looked at me? "His eyes. It looks like he might be wearing contacts?" I asked, unsure of why that had popped into my head.

"What color were they before you saw him on Tuesday?"

"Gold…like yours." That was technically a lie. They may have similar diets, but the gold in Edward's eyes had always outshone the others.

Jasper and Rosalie exchanged another look before going back to their silent conversation. Tired of watching them basically ignore me, I picked up the bottle of gin and took a couple swigs. The volume of their voices eventually rose.

"But is there such a thing?" Jasper wondered.

"Such a thing as what?" I asked tiredly.

"Alternate realities."

I stared at her. "What do you mean…like the Twilight Zone?" I resisted the urge to laugh in her face.

"Something like that…" she trailed off.

I expected Jasper to tell her she was wrong, that she's crazy. He said neither. "But is it possible?"

"Look at the facts, Jasper. This Isabella clearly isn't the same Isabella we've known," Rosalie pointed out. The completely serious tone in her voice, led me to believe she wasn't kidding.

Brows coming together, I thought over her words. "How is she different?" How am I different?

"Let's just say the Isabella we're used to, is a little more...wild."

Wild? Isabella Marie Swan considered wild? They were definitely joking.

"Right," I responded sarcastically, taking another sip of my drink.

Rosalie blew out a long breath that she didn't need, eyeing the bottle in my hand for a second before looking at my face. "How else do you explain everything? All of the differences?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"I know what you are doing. Are you worried I'm going to behave like the typical vengeful ex-girlfriend?" I spat. "It doesn't matter how much Edward hurt me. I would never betray your secret."

"Bella…"

I kept my gaze trained on swirling liquid within the bottle. "I'm serious."

"No it isn't that..."

"Then what?" I asked, still avoiding eye contact. It was really insulting that they thought so poorly of me. I wonder who came up with the idea that I would embrace my inner child and run off to "mommy" to go tattle. Edward or Alice might have suggested it. Maybe it was unanimous.

"When was the last time you saw Charlie?"

The shock of hearing my father's name caused me to abandon the clear waves for the powerful gold. "Monday morning I guess. Why?"

Her face became tainted with sadness. "I'm really sorry Bella."

"What? Why are you sorry?" My panic was rising.

"Rosalie," Jasper warned.

"Charlie passed away."

"What? How can you say something like that?" He wasn't dead. I would know if my own father was dead.

"He died last September," she said quietly.

I stared at her for a while. Absolute silence spread throughout the room for at least five minutes before I tried to swallow the lump in my throat in order to speak. "What is wrong with you? He is my father! Screw with my head all you want, but don't do this. This is sick," I glared.

"Has he ever left you alone this long?" she asked, glancing at the calendar taped to a small part of the kitchen wall between one of the cupboards and the tiled counter.

I responded with only silence.

"Has he called even once to tell you where he is? What he's doing? When he'll be home?" she questioned with a knowing frown.

The last time I had seen Charlie was around Monday morning, I think. It was often hard to keep track of the days now, refusing to allow my brain to calculate the number of months, weeks, days, and eventually hours since I had seen him. I only sought out the information when it was necessary for schoolwork.

But I had seen my father. I had woken up early from the sounds of my own screams like any other day and I had prepared his breakfast. We sat together at the table, him reading his newspaper and me pretending to really eat, hiding most of the food in my napkin when he wasn't looking. It wasn't hard to do this, since he typically avoided looking at me whenever he could. I imagine it would be hard to watch your daughter crumple from the inside out. Of course I never blamed him for wanting to shield his face from the chilling sight.

I remember him mumbling about working late, keeping his gaze glued to his newspaper. He often worked late and it wasn't hard to guess why.

After that though, I couldn't really remember much. I couldn't remember what I had done the rest of the day, only that comforting dream I had before everything went wrong.

So assuming I hadn't seen him since Monday, that added up to a total of four days with a word from him?

That doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's too busy to call.

"You're lying," I breathed.

"Just look at the evidence," she replied softly.

"No," the word came out in a shallow breath as I allowed the implication of her statement to wash over me.

He couldn't be dead.

The bottle slipped from my fingertips when I abruptly turned toward the stairs. If it hit the floor, I didn't hear the crash because I was only concentrating on each step I took, leading me closer and closer to the truth.

My steps slowed as I reached his doorway. The knob shifting gently underneath my grip as I slowly pushed open the door. Standing for a moment, I took in the appearance of the room, my perusal stopping upon a picture frame that sat on the nightstand along the bed.

Drifting closer, the picture became clearer and more focused. Trailing my fingertips on the dust coated glass lightly, I snatched the frame up from its place. The picture was of three people in what appeared to be a professional photo gone wrong.

Each person wore clothing that was what could be called the essence of proper—the man wearing a suit and tie, the woman wearing a simple, modest dress, and the girl wearing a delicate blouse and a long flowing skirt that announced to the world that she was a young lady.

Despite the overall appropriateness of their respective attire, the photo was imperfect. The man's head was turned toward the woman beside him with his lips pressed against her cheek, the light of love bright in his eyes. By the pleasant surprise on the woman's face, it was clear the man had done it a moment before the flash. The girl stood in front of the joyous couple with a knowing smile that suggested she knew of her father's plans. That flash solidified these people in their bliss forever. As long as this piece of paper lived, their happiness would shine throughout time.

I waited for the sadness, the emotional spiral into darkness, even the possible anger as I sat on the floor of his room. I waited, but they never came.

Everywhere I glanced, the sight of certain objects blinded me. The picture frame clutched tightly in my hands, the striped pillows upon his made bed, the overall tidiness of a room that was usually cluttered with various articles of clothing.

The stack of clean shirts atop his dresser, the business like state of his curtains—they were clearly not meant for show, but for their use. They were practical curtains. There wasn't a need for outrageous colors or exotic fabrics to adorn his window. They were only meant to stop the light from bleeding through. That was their purpose.

They were not needed tonight though with the clash of rain upon the window and the penetrating darkness of the sky. There was a storm raging just on the other side of that glass, but it seemed to far away as I continued to wait.

What was I waiting for?

Oh how I wish I knew.

There wasn't a rhyme or reason to my actions, nor an explanation for why I had remained in this exact spot upon his floor for what must have been several minutes, or quite possibly, hours.

A soft blanket of light bathed the room through the sliver of the window, its brightness drawing my blank eyes back into focus. The light came and went in a flash, submerging the room in darkness once more. That was when I knew.

I was waiting for him.

There was a reason why my eyes were glued to the window—they were seeking the delicate rhyme of light meeting darkness. They were searching for that particular set of headlights or perhaps the blinking of red and blue.

Little did I know—or rather, would ever fully admit to myself—such a sight would never grace my eyes again.

"How is she?" There was complete silence for a few minutes. "Jasper?"

"I can sense her, but it's like she's not really there… It's like there's a hole in place of where her emotions should be."

"She doesn't feel sad?"

"No."

"What kind of daughter am I if I feel nothing about the death of my father?" I asked.

A good daughter would be sad. A good daughter would be consumed with grief. A good daughter would mourn the man who fathered her. A good daughter would feel…something.

"He wasn't your father, Bella. Your father is still alive," Rosalie reasoned, sitting beside me on the floor. In my peripheral, I could see her staring out the window. It almost felt like an intrusion, having her seated on the floor next to me, her body pressing into his carpet, her eyes soaking in the rain and darkness through his window. I shook away those thoughts, knowing her presence was merely for my comfort.

In a way, she was right. This wasn't my world, this wasn't my Forks, this wasn't my house, and this wasn't the room of my dead father. But at the same time, it was.

Although I was skeptical at first, this piece of evidence proved impossible to push away. Everything in here appeared unaffected by time or human interference. The bedding, the shirts, and the curtains, were all different items than what the Charlie I knew owned.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that discovering the existence of an alternate realty shouldn't have been hard to accept. There are vampires in this town after all. Two of which were currently in my house.

Tearing my gaze away from the window, I looked down at the picture in my hands. Everything took on an unfocused feeling—like I was watching everything through a shield of foggy glass. Rubbing the thin layer of dust off the brunette's face, I stared at her foreign smile.

"This isn't me," I whispered to myself. There was a spark of life in her eyes that put my dull ones to shame. It was a strange feeling—to be envious of one's self, but still find the sight of your own face unsettling. I wanted her eyes, knowing mine would never have the potential to shine with such beauty and life.

Life.

I had been dead for so long that I had accepted it, but as I stared at the content expression upon the girl's face, I couldn't help but long for such a life.

I craved the flame that burns beneath the skin, the fluttering of butterflies in the stomach, the tingling within the bones.

Allowing the thought of how I had gotten here to slip into my mind raised an endless amount of questions.

How could I leave a place in which the angel's gather? Assuming that returning to my own world is even an option—which I am not entirely certain it is—how could I return to my old life? How could I go back to my old dreary existence just to slip back into my numb state and wallow in misery?

Here, I can breathe, but there…I was only suffocating.

If I stay here, I get a new slate. Not a clean slate, rather one that has been tarnished with the edges chipped away by the previous owner's actions.

A new slate nonetheless to me.

There is nothing for me back home—all of the angels have departed once and for all. They may return decades later, I suppose, but by that time my corpse would be drowned in dirt and littered with the parasites that would have consumed my lifeless flesh. My eyes becoming so hollow that they eventually sunk into nothingness, leaving only large gaping sockets with more depth than my eyes currently possess.

When one tastes the glorious taste of true love…they can never go back. Nothing could ever compare and nothing could ever replace it. Try as one might, the substitute would always be bathed in the shadow of the one truly desired. The real thing would maintain its role in your dreams, despite any efforts made by you or the substitute.

I knew what I deserved. I deserved someone just as plain as me, someone completely void of beauty, someone who isn't spectacular in any way—an equal. That is, if I even deserved someone.

But I was selfish. Too selfish to take what I earned—which wasn't much. I once had more—so much more. After having extraordinary, there wasn't any way I could settle for the bland companionship I deserved.

In this bizarre place, there was a chance to reclaim the love I had lost.

I wasn't going to hold my breath though.

A/N: So there it is. There are so many alternate universes in fanfiction and I wondered: What if Bella was actually thrust into a real alternate universe? This chapter explained a few things, but there is still so much more that Bella will learn. Like why Edward's eyes are a different color. Are they contacts? What's wrong with Alice? We'll see.

Please, I beg you to tell me what you think about this now that you know what is going on. Does this reveal make you want to quit reading? Do you feel cheated? If you don't tell me your thoughts, I'm going to assume these are all true. I'm cynical and I am worried I disappointed all of you.

Review and you will get a preview of Chapter 7, which is called Keeping Secrets.