Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.
A/N: I am amazed. Utterly amazed. Thank you so much for the reviews. Chapter 6's reviews were absolutely phenomenal. I would love it if we could break 200. If everyone left a review, even just a smiley face, we could do it… Hint. Hint. This chapter is more transitional than anything…
Chapter 7: Keeping Secrets
Song: "A Beautiful Lie" -30 Seconds To Mars
It's the perfect denial
Such a beautiful like to believe in
So beautiful, beautiful it makes me.
***
The next couple days kind of faded in and out for me.
Although I would have been content in just drinking myself into a stupor to pass the time, Rosalie had other plans. She stayed with me the whole time, only leaving my side to obtain a couple changes of clothes. I tried not to think about who she invariably ran into when she returned to the Cullen manor.
She also insisted that I shower daily, whether it was for her benefit or my own, I didn't know. I imagine being a caretaker would become that much more difficult if the patient refused to bathe themselves. Seeing her as my caretaker bothered me to no end, but that was what she was. She didn't know me; by all rights she hated me. She was just very kind and felt the need to help out. Her actions were out of pity, not love. As much as her pity damaged my pride, I was grateful to her, I guess.
One minute I would be there and the next I would be gone, replaying old memories of Charlie in my head. The memories would shift sometimes, to him. Those were harder to remember, and I'm sure Rosalie could detect the subtle difference between the two. She never mentioned it though, for which I was also grateful.
I'm sure they were curious—Rosalie and Jasper—to know why the Edward from my world had chosen to leave me. Though…I suppose after meeting me, they must have had some idea. The reason was plainly written across my face, for the whole world to see.
They told me not to worry about explaining everything right away, saying I needed time to cope with my situation. That was another thing I was constantly thinking about.
How had I come to be here?
Not that I was complaining, but waking up in a brand new world was a bit unsettling. Especially when you realize that you have been in the new world for nearly a week, without the faintest idea the switch had been made. It was like someone had pulled a rug right out from underneath my feet, but I didn't notice, causing a delay in a reaction and making the impact of the fall even more staggering.
I suppose the idea of an alternate reality wasn't particularly farfetched when one considers the existence of vampires. It also raised other questions, like: Are there other alternate realities?
I tried to imagine it, a world where Edward and I were together and happy, both human and both deeply in love with the other.
My heart broke a little more with that thought.
Rosalie was talking to me again. I only noticed because the little fissure crack that thought made in my heart had been enough to bring me out of my thoughts. This also happened from time to time. I would snap out of it and my eyes would shift around the room, checking for something, although I wasn't sure what.
Rosalie was talking about making me some food, so that I could keep up my strength.
What's the point of staying healthy when I'm already so decayed?
The idea of food wasn't appealing in the slightest, but I didn't refuse the soup when she placed the tray in front of my lap. I knew that in order to have the will to face Edward, I would need to keep my body sustained. Honestly, I wouldn't mind giving up food altogether. Everything tasted the same anyway—vile and foul. It was the same taste that was always in my mouth, no matter how many times I brushed my teeth.
Even the strongest mouth wash couldn't rinse it from my mouth.
Rosalie wore a small smile as I picked up the spoon and began shoveling it down. She frowned a little when she noticed I wasn't blowing on the spoonfuls of soup and I vaguely registered the burn of it as it slid down my throat. It was minor in comparison to the burn I was now used to.
Once I finished—rather quickly I might add—I could feel the peel of a little piece of skin detaching itself from the roof of my mouth. Part of it was still connected to the rest of the skin, leaving my tongue to fiddle with it, pushing it around my mouth for no apparent reason.
This could almost explain the way I was feeling lately. Each time I took a drink that burning would remove a layer of my internal wall and the numbing feeling would seep in. The more familiar I became with that burn, the easier the layers departed. And as the walls thinned, the quicker the pleasant haze came. I might have asked if Rosalie would get me a bottle of something if I thought she would comply. I would have just gotten one myself, but she seemed determined to keep me from moving from this bed.
Rosalie lifted the tray from in front of me, mumbling something about returning it to the kitchen. This was one of the brief moments in which she would leave my side, like she was afraid if she was gone too long, she would return to find me hanging from a beam with a noose around my neck.
I wondered if she knew how often I thought of death, but quickly brought myself out of those thoughts. She didn't know… How could she?
She returned a minute later with a deck of cards. She had played solitaire at least a hundred times these passed couple of days, but part of me thought that she held a small hope I would want to play a game with her.
What a stupid thought. Who in their right mind would want to play a game with me anyway?
There was something that had been festering in my thoughts for the last couple of hours and I knew it would continue to bother me until I just grew a spine and asked her.
"Rosalie?" my voice was hoarse from the lack of use. I hadn't spoken since Friday night, in my father's room. Her father, I mentally corrected.
Her eyes widened at the sound of my voice. Clearly I had surprised her with my interruption of the silence. "Yes Bella?"
I decided not to step around it and ask the question I was dying to know the answer to. "Have you told Edward about any of this?" The way his name fell off my tongue sounded so foreign to me now. Mostly because it felt a little strange calling him Edward now that I knew he wasn't the one I was used to, but a slightly different variation. Not that anyone could ever get used to someone as magnificent as Edward.
"No. Why?" she looked at me curiously.
"I was wondering if…" Just spit it out. "If…you could…not tell him?" I asked hopefully.
She maintained eye contact, her expression morphing into one of confusion. "I guess so. I'll have to ask Jasper though. Mind if I ask why?" I really hope I wasn't too late, but I did remember her saying something about him going on a hunting trip immediately after school Friday, so that he could return by Monday.
Monday. Tomorrow.
"It's just hard for me and I need some time to adjust, you know?" That was partly true, but it wasn't the real reason I didn't want him to know who I really was.
I mean, I want him to know who I am, or better yet, that I am not the Isabella Swan he is so intent on hating, but if he knew the Edward from my world had rejected me…
I was afraid he would see it as a sign.
Yea she's interesting at first, but once you get to know her…you lose interest.
Rosalie just looked at me, likely thinking over my words. Her features took on a hint of sadness for a moment before she quickly reined it in, replacing the downward curve of her lips with a smile of reassurance. "Sure Bella. Just promise me you'll tell him eventually."
Nodding, I removed myself from the conversation, bringing up an image I had visited quite frequently during the weekend.
The curious color of emerald and crimson clashing together, almost seeming to unite as one.
…
"Rosalie?"
It was dark now and she was sitting on the edge of my bed, reading something while I lay on top of my comforter, not even trying to go to sleep. She placed a small blue rectangle in the book to mark her page.
"Yes?"
"How did Charlie die?"
It was the question I had wanted to ask for a while, but was too fearful to. Afraid the answer would open the floodgates, but also afraid I would still feel nothing.
"Are you sure you want to hear this Bella?" I nodded, chewing slightly on my tongue.
"I didn't see it happen or anything, but I did hear the official report when they brought him to the hospital." She looked at me, silently asking if I wanted her to go on. I nodded for her to continue.
She took a deep breath, "According to a few of the officers working at the station that night, Charlie was taking off early to celebrate your—well her—birthday," she looked down, grimacing.
My birthday.
I guess that day was cursed, no matter what universe I was in.
"The station got a call for a domestic disturbance and Charlie offered to look into it since it was on his way to the restaurant. One of the neighbors reported hearing a lot of screaming and loud crashes coming from within the house. The family that owned the house had only moved in about a month before, so I guess they weren't really acquainted with everyone in town yet."
That was perfectly understandable. It's hard enough moving to a new place without all of the prodding of the nosy people of this town.
"Witnesses say Charlie walked through their slightly ajar front door where he found a man standing over a severely beaten woman with a little boy crying under a coffee table. Supposedly, the man found a love letter hidden in her underwear drawer and accused her of cheating on him."
So he beat her. I guess talking it out wouldn't have sufficed?
"When he saw Charlie standing there clean shaven and dressed in a suit and tie, he must have thought Charlie was the man who wrote his wife the love letter, and he…he…shot him. Charlie didn't even have his gun belt on him," she finished with a frown.
I wondered if this Rosalie had known my father because she truly seemed sad about his death, though that just might be her caring nature surfacing again.
I sighed when she looked up at me, still feeling detached from the whole ordeal. What was wrong with me?
Like she had somehow heard my thoughts, she responded, "There's nothing wrong with you Bella."
I scoffed, picking at a little thread poking out of the bed sheets. Looking around the room, I realized how much it was different from my room. To my relief, the walls were the same color as mine. That would have been really bad if I hadn't noticed that difference.
There were books lining shelves too, though from what Rosalie had told me, she didn't usually see Isabella reading and was a little surprised to find the tattered copies.
I remembered one of our conversations earlier when I asked her what Isabella was like.
"She's a little…hard to get along with," she had said awkwardly, like it felt wrong to insult someone behind their back. This Rosalie truly amazed me. She was just so different from the harsh and cold Rosalie I had known.
"She's really…experienced…sexually." A little color had filled my cheeks. That wasn't something I necessarily liked knowing, but I suppose I did need to know everything to help prepare for Monday. She said she didn't know how many guys she had been with, but apparently there had been many—at least, according to the rumors floating around the school.
I knew not to trust those though.
"Who else lives here?" I had asked. I hadn't seen anyone, but if felt like a question I needed to ask.
"Just her. There was a rather large insurance policy taken out on Charlie long before he died—enough to support you here for a long time."
So I would be living here alone. It was nice in a way—to have the freedom to do whatever I wanted and not have to worry about being caught doing anything…unlawful. I even used to enjoy solitude, but that didn't decrease the sadness I felt at being utterly alone.
"And Renee?" She hadn't mentioned her death, so I assumed she was still alive.
"I think she's living in Phoenix now with her new husband."
"Phil?" I had asked. Apart from Angela and Mike, I wondered if everyone else maintained the same partners…or mates. But I wasn't sure how to ask that.
"Yes. How did you know?" she had asked curiously.
"She's married to Phil in my world too."
"Interesting…"
"When did they get married?" The photo I had taken from Charlie's room looked recent.
"Late October."
I had counted down the months in my head. October came directly after September…
My eyebrows had shot up as I squeaked, "Late October?"
"Yes. I think that's why Isabella didn't go to Phoenix when they offered to take her. I don't think they've spoken since she left."
The more information I received about this place, the worse I felt.
Here I was, whining about my pathetic life, when there were people here who truly suffered. I couldn't imagine going through everything the other Isabella had gone through. I couldn't say I would trade lives with her…
I loved my Charlie and my Renee. That was one of the reasons why I originally chose to end my life. I could see what my zombie state was doing to Charlie. Renee had stopped calling, had almost completely ceased emailing me. Seeing their daughter shriveled up and curled inside herself was hurting them.
I didn't want to hurt anyone…except myself.
I was the one that deserved punishment. I was the one that screwed everything up. It was my fault.
I have made up my mind. I know in my heart that I can never return back to my old world—even if the opportunity should present itself.
In the beginning, they might miss me. Charlie might send out a search party and Renee might come to Forks to aid in the search. Charlie might call my name for hours in the forest where I chose to end it all. His deputies may hang posters of my face around town for a week. But soon they would forget—they would give up.
When they did eventually give into the fact that they were never going to find my body, would the Cullens hear about it? And if they did…what would they think? What would they do? How would they feel?
I imagined the Cullens at my funeral, the customary black clothes bringing out their pale complexions. They would each leave a single white rose, apart from Edward whose rose would be red. Not because he harbored any hidden love for me, but as a silent gesture. A gesture that showed he acknowledged my feelings, even if he didn't return them.
The sky would be clear, apart from a soft blanket of clouds that would allow the Cullens to be among the human attendees in the daylight. It would be one of the few days in which Forks didn't rain—signifying a new beginning for my family. On the last day they would ever think of me, they would stand before my empty casket and weep.
The image was wrong. Vampires weren't able to cry and even if they could, they wouldn't waste their tears on me.
Seeing Edward day after day, not being able to be with him, and hearing his hateful words was killing me, but I deserved every moment of it. He should know who I am. It wasn't like my identity mattered… Alice's vision was wrong.
I couldn't bring myself to tell him though. I was scared.
I could never delude myself into believing he would ever see anything in me. Those brilliant green eyes with their peculiar sparkling twinge of red saw right through me.
The thought of his eyes, brought up a new question that had flitted in and out of my thoughts ever since I first saw him that day.
"Why aren't Edward's eyes gold like yours?" I asked Rosalie who was now looking through my closet—her closet. Her body stiffened, her hand clutching a denim vest tightly. I waited for her to turn around and when she did, she eyed me warily. My questions were probably starting to get on her nerves. Even this Rosalie didn't have a high tolerance for my annoying voice.
"Edward has a different diet," she said quietly, pulling on a loose thread.
So this Edward didn't have the same diet as the rest of the Cullens. That's why his eyes aren't gold. But that could only mean…
"Oh," I mumbled, wringing my hands. It shouldn't bother me that he hunts humans, but I couldn't get rid of the image of his beautiful lips wrapped around someone's throat. I shivered then, although I knew it wasn't out of fear or from being cold.
Rosalie looked at me worriedly. "No, please don't think poorly of him for that," she pleaded, for what reason, I didn't know. What did my approval amount to in the grand scheme of things?
"He has a…condition." That sure caught my attention.
"A condition?" Had he made a deal or something with another vampire that required him to drink human blood? I couldn't think of what he might want or need…he had everything.
Bragging rights?
I could imagine Edward and Emmett making some sort of bet like that, but I thought they were very adamant about not killing innocent people. Then again, these aren't the same Cullens I once knew. They could enjoy watching feeble humans like myself, suffer at their hands…
After glancing out the window, she abruptly pulled the curtains shut. I didn't understand the point, since it had been open all weekend, whether it was daytime or not.
She turned to face me. "Look…it isn't my place to say. Just promise me you won't judge him?" she asked hopefully.
I really didn't have a response to that. I really wanted to know what she meant by "condition" and I also wanted to know what made him feel justified in taking a human life.
Maybe he's hunting criminals like he did before he met you.
Again, I remembered that this wasn't the same Edward. He may not see things the same way…may not hold the same morals. Perhaps he did it for the thrill—to be the last thing those people see before his mouth sucks them dry of all life.
I couldn't help but feel a little envious of his victims. It was irrational of course and very morbid, but what wasn't irrational or morbid about my thoughts and feelings these days?
She went back to combing through the closet, wrinkling her nose at a few of the less tasteful pieces. Luckily for me, it must have been laundry day before all of this happened. The clothes I had worn the last few days were taken straight from the "modest" rack, likely not having been touched in years. The rest of the closet was bare—it had been scoured for something that wasn't inappropriate, I assumed.
Neither Rosalie nor Jasper knew where the real Isabella was or where she might have gone. They did say she typically acted on impulse, so she could be anywhere for all they knew. It was just another thing we would need to look into. Imagine the look on her face if she came home to find me? Unless she wasn't capable of returning. If I had been sent here…could she have been sent to my world?
Rosalie avoided eye contact for at least an hour and I was sure the reason was to prevent me from pressing the eye color issue. She said it wasn't her place to say which meant that unless I managed to sweet talk Jasper (yeah right) into telling me, I would have to go straight to the horse's mouth.
That particular mouth though…had a very intense distaste for me. The thought of my cowering like a frightened little girl under his gaze as I attempt to ask him my question, lowered what tiny portion of confidence that still managed to linger in my mind.
And here I thought I had lost it all that night.
No matter what manner in which he decided to treat me tomorrow, I would persevere.
I also made a silent vow.
I will find out the secret behind those startling eyes…even if it kills me.
A/N: If you don't sign up for an account on this website, I can't send you a preview. I am sorry I was unable to send it to a few of you due to that reason. If you sign up, you can put this story on Story Alert. Then you will get an email notifying you every time I update. If you don't want to sign up for an account, that's fine. I still love your reviews. I just feel bad about not being able to send you a preview…
Review and I'll send you a preview of Chapter 8. Also, there's a poll at the top of my profile.
