Thanks for all of the reviews. They are like my version of crack.
How is Bella gonna get out of this one?
We'll see…
BPOV
"Is she dead?" Angela starts crying, she's so close I can smell her somewhat overpowering perfume.
"Bella?" I hear Edward say from next to me. "Are you okay?"
"Bella?" Dad says, wiping some hair out of my face.
Don't move
I hear my father's soft orders and decide that it's for the best.
"Don't touch her," Edward barks out. "She could have a neck injury."
"What did you say?" Dad asks, in his authoritative voice.
Edward…if only you knew who you were yelling at.
Oh Shit.
She was so hot.
"Oh, God! Oh, God," I hear before the sound of a door shutting and Tyler comes rushing over. "Is she okay?"
"What to do you think?" Edward asks, clearly annoyed by the question.
Honestly. You almost hit me with your car. How could I possibly be okay?
"Bella!" Alice cries.
Fuck! Do you think she's paralyzed?
I don't see her moving.
Tyler is sooooo going to jail.
That's pretty fucked up.
She has such great legs.
"Uuuuugggggghhh," I groan out, letting them know that I not dead… at least not yet anyway.
Fucking Tyler!
I hear the crowd start to dissipate, after the ambulance comes.
"CAN YOU HEAR ME?" the paramedic shouts in my ear.
"Uuuuugggggh," I grunt out again.
I don't think speaking a response would be the wisest decision to make, at this point.
Once they did the initial tests: shining a light in my eye to see if I was okay, etc. The humiliation began.
Have you ever tripped up when walking down the hallway at school? Well…try getting put in a neck brace and strapped to a gurney in front of the entire student body and faculty.
Then, we'll talk about embarrassment.
"I'll ride with you," Dad volunteers, before I hear the doors shut and the ambulance take off.
Fuck
You said it Dad.
I hear the sound of ticking going on, next to where my dad is. Is he texting? At a time like this?
He must look so concerned about me…insert sarcasm here.
"Her pulse seems to be stable," I hear a medic announce. "She's virtually unresponsive verbally," he adds, as the vehicle comes to a stop. "She's not moving," he says, before the gurney is transported somewhere.
I know I'm in a hospital, as a result of the scent of rubbing alcohol assaulting my nose.
I fucking hate this place. Nothing good ever happens when I go to the hospital.
"Stay here, sir," I hear a medic tell someone. It's probably my Dad.
"I heard," I hear a familiar voice wash over me.
"Car crash," a new voice explains. "She was standing in the bed of her truck, when another car t-boned her," she pauses.
"My daughter just called me," a voice announces. "She's her friend," I feel poke to my cheek.
"She hit her head pretty bad. She's not responsive."
"No outward signs of trauma," I hear the familiar voice spout out, before I feel hands checking me over. "No blood. No visible broken bones," he adds.
Who is this?
I open a tiny slither of my eye to see Edward's dad hovering over me. I forgot his name.
He's a doctor?
"Her eyes just opened!" the nurse smiles.
Fuck!
"Bella," Edward's dad (whose name forsakes me) calls. "Can you…"
"Uuuuuuugggggh," I grunt again.
I'm getting really tired of hearing that question.
"Can you feel that?" he pinches my thigh? "That?" he pinches my arm.
"Uuuuuuugh."
"Run an MRI," he orders the nurse. "She may have some form of spinal or brain injury," I hear a pen clicking. "Alert me, as soon as you get the results."
"Gotcha," the nurse says, as I feel myself being veered away.
"There was a car accident in the high school parking lot," the nurse informs. "Possible head and or spinal injury," she lists off. "Chief wants you to run an MRI. Try to make it snappy," she taps my shoulder.
"Okay," a masculine voice sounds off.
"Excuse me," the nurse responds, taken aback. She sounds a little…dare I say…turned on. "Do I know you?"
"No," he answers quickly. "It's my first day," he adds. "New hospital."
"Well…" she starts. "If you want to get together…"
"I should probably get started," the man cuts her off.
Ooooh. De-nied.
"Oh," the nurse says dejectedly. "She's the chief's daughter's friend. Be careful."
"Always am."
"Okay," she giggles. "Bye," the giggles continue.
This is so awkward. I feel embarrassed for her.
"Okay," he responds, as the door closes.
"Jesus," I hear another woman. It sounds like the typing of a keyboard. "You sure make the ladies go wild."
"Jealous," the other man says, before I hear something turn on.
"And we're black," the woman announces.
What the Hell?
"Bella," the man pokes me. "Bella," he calls again.
Are members of the medical staff supposed to poke comatose people?
No wonder people hate hospitals.
"Uggggh," I revert back to my previous state.
"Bella," he sighs, annoyed. "Wake up."
"Uuuugh."
"Isabella Marie Swan," he starts. "Birthday…September 13, 1994…father Charlie Steven Swan…mother Renee Moonstone Stetson…"
"Uh…." What the Hell? Shit. I wasn't supposed to say 'uh.' "Ugggggh…"
"Stop it," he huffs, opening my eyeball. "You can wake up."
But…
"Uggggghh."
"Uncle Sam sent us," the woman says.
What?
"Huh?" I ask. "FUCK!" I wasn't supposed to be talking.
"Great," the man starts laughing at me. "Hello, Bella," she takes my hand. "I'm Agent Johnson," she smiles. "This," she points to a woman in the corner feverishly typing on a computer, "is Agent Smith."
Johnson? Smith?
I'd bet my life those are fake names.
"O…kay," I say, not sure what is happening.
"Your Dad reported that you had a little… incident," the woman comes over and shows me the computer screen. It shows Edward rushing towards me. Then, it's me pushing Edward out of the way…followed by a rather fast flip into the bed of my car.
How he could have known the van was coming?
"Shit," I shut my eyes.
"Exactly," Agent Johnson deadpans. "That was taken from the security cameras in the school parking lot," he says. "These," he adds, as another screen pops up with videos. "were taken by your lovely schoolmates on their smart phones."
"Fuck."
"We were able to slow down the footage from the parking lot and add glitches to most of the smartphone footage," Agent Smith adds. "It looks more realistic," she finishes, clicking something.
"We're sending agents to clean out your house as we speak," Agent Smith adds. "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave your car behind."
What? No ?
"No!" I shout, as Johnson starts going through MRI scans.
"Embolism?" he asks, pointing to one.
"No!" I shout again.
"I was thinking…subdural hematoma," Agent Smith voices her opinion, motioning to another picture. "It would explain her speech, or lack thereof."
"I don't want to go!" I cross my arms. If I was standing I would stomp my feet.
"Bella," Johnson starts. "You were seen by at least 25 people, hitting your head with enough force to thud…after being ejected from the bed of your truck…" he pauses.
"That was hit by a hippie van," Smith ends. "No one is going to believe that you survived that. You don't want people becoming suspicious."
"I'm not leaving." I stand my ground.
I was finally getting some taste of normalcy. I wasn't going to give that up because some asshole doesn't know how to drive.
Fucking Tyler!
The two agents look at each other before Agent Smith goes back to typing on her computer.
"I'm assuming your father would like to go to Houston as originally planned," Johnson completely ignores me.
"I'M NOT GOING!" I shout at the top of my lungs, before Johnson covers my mouth.
"Calm down," he says sternly.
"NO!" I bite his finger.
"Fuck!" he starts jumping around.
"Take one more step and you lose the whole finger," I warn getting out of the gurney.
"Get back here!" Agent Smith comes towards me.
"Don't act like you can stop me," I point to her, before I open the door.
"Bella," Dad pushes me back inside the door. "Relax. They're trying to help you."
"I don't want to leave," I say again. "I like it here."
I know I complain a lot about assholes, jocks, and bitchy cheerleaders but I love being at least a little normal.
"I'm sorry it happened this way," he apologizes. "Sometimes life…"
"NO! I'm not leaving," I stomp my foot. "I finally have friends. I almost kissed a boy on two separate occasions," I list off on my fingers.
I'm proud of my progress on the last one.
"Who?" he raises his eyebrow.
"That's not important," I argue. "I'm finally having a normal teenage experience," I plead my case to everyone in the room. "I shouldn't have to move just because Tyler Crowley doesn't know how to drive," I cross my arms.
"Bella..."
"Dad," I repeat his tone. "You had a normal childhood. I haven't. You go to have a girlfriend, wife, and all that," I pause. "I haven't. I'm not moving."
"Everyone saw," he huffs.
"I don't care," I tell him. "I'll be the one suspected-not you," I remind.
"This is…"
"If you uproot me again, I'll never forgive you," I pull out the big guns, staring him in the face.
"Don't…"
"Never," I cut him off.
"Bel…"
"Ne-ver," I repeat.
"Fuck," he rubs his face with hands and leans on the wall.
"Please, Daddy," I start crying. "I don't want to go."
"Mr. Swan," Agent Johnson starts.
"Give me a minute," he gives the universal minute signal.
I lean on the wall next to him, hoping that he'll reconsider. It would suck ass to move again. I just got done unpacking-most of the way.
"You wear a spinal brace," he looks me in the eye.
"No dice!" I gasp, grabbing my chest. "I can't believe you suggested that," I say. "I'm a cheerleader!"
I hear Agent Smith giggling in the background.
"You got hit by a car!"
"No," I correct. "I was tossed from the bed of my truck. I only flew like three feet."
"And you cracked your head," he adds.
"Give me a concussion."
"Neck brace," he adds.
"Dad," I stomp my foot again. "How am I supposed to cheer with a neck brace?"
"You don't even like being a cheerleader!"
"It's growing on me," I admit, smiling. It's fun. Plus, I look cute in my uniform. "Sprained wrist," I bargain.
"Pssh," he rolls his eyes. "Broken ankle."
"Cheerlea…" Then it hit me. "You don't want me to cheer!" I accuse, pointing at him.
"Uh…" he starts. "You have to be…" he pauses again. "That outfit is too small!"
"Is not," I disagree. "Did you see the Port Angeles cheerleaders? They look like they just came off the ho stroll!"
"Boys stare at you," he pouts.
"I can thank my handsome father for my good genes," I smile, trying to butter him up.
"Ass kissing doesn't suit you."
That didn't go well.
"Dad!" I yell, getting frustrated.
"Broken wrist," he looks me in the eye, showing he's serious.
"Sprained wrist," I start. He opens his mouth to object. "Plus," I interrupt. "A sprained ankle," I add.
"It's plausible," Agent Johnson says. "It could keep her off the squad for at least three weeks."
"Deal," Dad and I say in unison shaking hands.
"Great," Smith gets on the phone. "I'll tell the movers to back off."
"Get back in the damn gurney," Johnson orders.
I do as I'm told and Dad leaves. We wait another 30 minutes to get done with the MRI. Afterwards, I'm wheeled into another room. It turns out, my lack of sleep the night before came in handy. As soon as I got bored, I took a nap. I wake up to the sounds of people taking over me.
"So…nothing?" a voice similar to Edward's asks.
"Nope," Carlisle says.
"Sean?"
"Same," he replies. "I've tried like three times."
Tried what?
"It's weird," Edward speaks. "Right?"
"It's not the first time," his father responds. "It's happened before."
"Not to me," he says, with a tone of disappointment.
"Is she okay?" Alice's high voice enters the room.
"Looks like it," Carlisle says. "She has a nasty wrist sprain. She'll be fine."
"Good," she says, as I hear a chair being pulled from next to me. "If Edward just pushed her out the way like I told him to…"
"I tried," he says. "She pushed me out of the way."
"Bella?" she asks, giggling. "pushed you out of the way?" she finishes. "She only weighs like ten pounds more than I do."
"I know what happened," he seethes. "She cracked her fucking skull open. I saw her hit her head."
"MRIs don't lie," Carlisle says. "She's fine."
"But…"
"Let it go," the father sighs, as the door opens.
"Uh…"
"Hey, Sean," Alice and Edward says.
No fucking way.
Carlisle swears? He seems so classy.
"Hey," Carlisle deadpans.
"Uh…" Dad leads off. "Hey," he finishes in an awkward voice.
What's going on?
"Uggggh," I grumble again, acting as if I'm waking up. "Whaaaaat?" I ask, looking around.
"She's awake!" Alice chirps, kissing my forehead.
"Yeah," I deadpan.
"Uh…" Carlisle shakes his head, like he's trying to come to grips with something. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," I fake yawn. "My wrist and ankle hurts."
"S-sprain," he stutters.
What?
I look around to see Dad looking uncomfortable.
"I thought you were going to die," Alice pouts.
"I'm fine," I laugh at her face. "A little banged up…but fine."
"Good," she smiles. "Dad says you shouldn't cheer for the next month," she looks at me. "Don't worry your spot will be waiting for you."
"Thanks," I shake my head at her ability to look on the bright side.
"Angela stopped by earlier today," she notifies. "You were sleeping."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Edward interrupts, looking at me and raising an eyebrow.
"Yeeeaaah?" I ask, not sure whether to be concerned or laugh at his expression.
"It's just…" he pauses. "You hit…"
"Edward," Carlisle admonishes his son, looking at Dad and twisting his head.
What is their deal?
"Oh!" Emmett smiles, eating a piece of pizza. "You're up."
"Mhmm," I hold my breath, trying to block out the offending smell.
"You scared the shit out of us, Bells," he sits on the edge of the bed.
"Emmett!" Esme scolds him, entering the room. She's holding something. Shit.
It's lasagna. I can smell it.
"Hey, Esme," I try to smile, as she gives me a hug.
"Oh, sweetie," she says. "I came as soon as I…Oh God," she stops in her tracks…and stares at Dad. "Oh God," she says again.
"Hello," Dad says, moving to shake Esme's hand.
"Carlisle, look," she waves her husband over. "It's like Charlie didn't age a day," she puts her hand under Dad's chins and inspects him. "It's amazing."
"Yeah," Carlisle says, tilting his head to the side.
"Uh..." Dad says.
"Oh," Esme flicks her forehead. "My husband I went to high school with your parents," she smiles. "Esme Platt? Carlisle Cullen?" she points to her husband.
Dad looks between the couple and it's like a light bulb goes off in his head. Then, he looks at Carlisle and his mouth drops open.
"Oh," Dad says. "I think I might have heard…"
"Don't be polite," she waves him off. "Wow," she puts her hands on her hips. "Genes are amazing," she shakes her head.
"Yeah," I say, feeling the awkwardness rolling in waves.
"I made the girl of the hour some of my famous lasagna," Esme grins, putting a tray filled with the entrée' on the table and taking paper plates and cutlery from her purse. "You may not be up to it right now but I want you two to eat," she points to me and Dad. "Okay?"
"Okay," we say in unison.
"Thank you," I say, looking at the dish from the corner of my eye.
"I put extra cheese on it like you like," she pushes a stray hair from my face.
"Mmmm," I smile, trying not to gag.
"Emmett!" Esme smacks her son on his head. "Did you steal a piece of Bella's lasagna?"
"They can't eat all of it," he excuses himself.
"I can't believe you sometimes," Alice seethes at her brother.
"We should get going," Esme looks at her watch. "You guys," she points to her children. "Have school tomorrow."
"Don't remind me," Alice begs, grabbing her purse.
"See you later, Bella," Emmett gives me a high five.
"Dad," I pause, after they all left. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he whispers. "I just…can't believe it."
"What?"
"Crusty…married Esme Platt?"
"Huh?"
"Oh," he sighs. "Carlisle was kind of a nerd in high school. You know…bookworm, short for his age, acne…that kind of stuff. Kids made his life Hell," he shakes his head at the memory. "Wedgies," he starts. "Locking him in his locker…making him do their homework. I felt bad for him," he sits down.
"Dad," I take a long breath and facepalm myself. "Please tell me that you didn't bully Carlisle in high school."
"It wasn't me," he quickly informs. "I left the poor guy alone. He was nice," he says, with regret. "I didn't even know his real name until ten minutes ago."
"That's comforting," I say.
"He did alright for himself," he says. "He's successful…has a nice family. He won," he nods his head. "Good for you Crus…Carlisle."
"I won't be too long," I hear a voice before the door opens.
Mrs. Clearwater?
"I just wanted to see if you were okay," she smiles, setting a flower arrangement by the window.
"I'm okay," I smile.
"Your hand," she notices, touching the bandage.
"It's my left wrist," I tell her. "I don't draw with this one," I ease her worries.
"Okay," she smiles, looking at Dad and at me. "All the teachers were worried," she explains her visit. "I volunteered to come and check on you."
"Thankyou," Dad rushes out. "I mean…thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiles, giggling.
"It means a lot that you came to visit," I grin, looking at Dad.
Is he blushing? What the Hell?
"Yeah," he adds. "She likes you…a lot," he smiles. "You're her favorite teacher."
"Well," she pauses. "You're my favorite student. She actually cares about the subject," she winks at me. "Don't worry about that or cheering. Okay? Just get better."
"Will do," I give her a thumbs up.
"Alright," she says fidgety. "I should be getting home."
"Tell the kids I said hello," I wave.
"Seth will love that," she rolls her eyes, opening the door.
"," Dad rushes, before the door closes.
You've got to be shitting me.
"Wooooow," I say, slowly turning my head to face my father.
"What?" he asks, still staring at the door.
"You totally have a crush on my art teacher," I call him out.
"No, I don't," he denies, looking at me. "I just think she's a nice lady."
"She's nice," I grin at him. "Pretty. Single."
"Thinks I'm a child," he stops me in my tracks. "Remember how the whole 'Angela' thing worked out?"
"I'm counting that as a success," I disagree. "I mean…she tried to seduce you. She obviously had a great time."
"I'm leaving," he announces, as I start laughing at him. "Get some sleep."
"I'm not going to forget," I warn him, turning over.
I'm released the next morning. Dad and I decided that it was better for me to stay home for the rest of the week to not cause any more suspicion. That turned out to be a pretty sweet deal. The only thing that sucked was that I have to wait a week for my car to get repaired.
Fucking Tyler!
On Saturday, I'm awakened by a tap on my nose.
"Wake up, beautiful," Alice pinches my cheek.
"Alice," I start. "Now is not the time."
"Lucky for me, it's 3:05," she smiles, pointing to my clock. "You sleep like the dead."
"Ugh," I roll over.
"We have to get ready."
"How do you get in my house?" I ask, confused.
"She has her ways," Rose chimes in, wrapped in a towel. "I've learned to just roll with it."
She took a shower?
"Come on," she starts going through my drawers. "I saw a really cute blue skirt in here the last time I came," she leads off, sifting through my pants.
"Shouldn't you guys be getting ready?" I ask.
"We're getting ready here," Rose informs, holding up her large purse. I assume her outfit is in there.
"Edward has been acting extra PMSy this week," Alice complains. "It's unbearab…HERE!" she shouts, holding up a blue skirt with white lace detailing.
I forgot I had it.
"Cute," Rose nods in approval.
"I can't believe you never wore it," Alice flicks the sales sticker.
"I'm a jeans kind of girl," I shrug.
"Not tonight," she gleams, plugging in her flat iron.
It wasn't that bad. It was mostly because Rose and Bella were focused on getting themselves ready.
"The guys will be here in five minutes," Rose informs, looking at a text on her phone.
"Is Angela coming?" I ask.
"Her dad is officiating a wedding and he needs extra help," Alice shakes her head. "She was really bummed."
"Damn," I pout.
"We look hot," Rose says, as the doorbell rings.
"I got it," I tell them, grabbing my prop crutch and struggling to the door. "Hey," I smile, letting the guys in.
"My favorite cripple," Emmett jokes, giving me a bear hug.
"Not funny," I roll my eyes.
"The accident is all people are talking about at school," Jasper tells me. "There is a rumor going around that you were declared legally dead for five minutes."
"Not to mention that Denali has been trying to get her paws on your spot," Alice says.
"What?"
"No worries," Rose laughs. "Clearwater and Alice aren't having it."
"It's amusing to watch her try," Alice joins in.
"You look nice," Edward compliments.
"Thank you," I smile.
It's a simple outfit. I have on a blue skirt with white lace detailing around the leg and hips, a white shirt and white ballet flats. Rose let me borrow one of her blue necklaces. Alice campaigned for heels but I convinced her that wouldn't go well with my sprain.
That girl will do anything for fashion.
"I'm hungry," Emmett says, accompanied by a stomach growl. "Let's go."
The ride to Port Angeles was fun. Everyone joked around and argued about what movie to see. It was okay…except Edward kept staring at me from the driver's seat.
Again?
I was confident it would be a good night. Then, we pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant.
Shit.
"I thought we were going to a movie."
"We are," Jasper says. "We're just eating first."
"This place has the best burgers," Rose says, getting out of the car.
"Do you need help, Bella?" Alice asks, looking at my crutch.
"It's fi…"
"I'll help her," Edward volunteers. "You guys can go."
"Okay," Alice smiles wide, ushering everyone else inside the restaurant.
"I'm fine," I tell him, grabbing my crutch. "You don't have to help me."
"Bella," he looks me in my eyes. "Let me be nice to you."
"If you wish," I sigh, scooting out of the car.
"You're kind of a celebrity," he starts conversation.
"I guess that comes with living in a small town," I reply. "I'm sure you're getting a whole new level of action, as a result of your heroics."
"I didn't do anything," he shakes his head. "You wouldn't let me."
"Oh," I say.
An awkward silence comes between us and I start to move quicker to the door.
"Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"How did you do it?" he asks, leaning forward.
"Do what?"
"You know what I'm talking about," he looks around. "Be that close to getting hit by a van and not die," he measures with his thumb and forefinger.
"I don't know what…"
"I know what I saw," he cuts me off. "The van was inches from you and you do a quadruple flip…tuck…whatever the fuck it was with a split-second to spare," he lists. "You pushed me at least ten feet out of the way. Bella, I weigh a lot more than you. There is no way that could have happened," he rambles.
"I had an adrenaline rush," I make up an excuse.
"Bullshit."
"Google it," I shrug. "Middle-aged women have lifted school buses off of their kids. I think I can flip into a truck and push you out of the way," I laugh at him, and continue walking.
"You cracked your head on a boulder," he follows me. "You hit it hard…and you only got a sprain?"
"I have tough bones," I tell him.
"Your bandage is on the wrong wrist," he points out, stopping me in my tracks. "You landed on your right arm…not your left," he smiles.
Shit.
"I can't even hear…" he stops. "Just tell me what's with you," he begs.
"Nothing."
"I know you're lying," he accuses me.
I laugh at his confidence. I imagine what version of the truth wouldn't land him in a strait jacket.
"You read too many comic books," I tease him.
"I'll find out eventually," he warns.
"Edward," I start, getting aggravated.
"What's wrong with you?" he asks, frustrated.
"Something is wrong with me?" I ask, reminding myself of a little fact. "What's wrong with you?"
"What are…"
"You ran out into the parking lot after me a full…three…five…seconds before the van even came into the parking lot," I point out. "How did you know that?" I raise an eyebrow.
The color and emotion drains from his face and he stops in his tracks.
It is then that I know that I hit a nerve. I said that just to shut him up. I didn't think my grasping at straws would cause such a reaction.
"Check mate," I smile at him. "Face it, Edward. Sometimes, the odds work in your favor. Don't question it," I walk into the restaurant.
"What were you two talking about?" Alice asks, looking between Edward and me. She is smiling ear to ear.
"Nothing," we reply in unison, staring each other down.
We sit on opposite ends of the waiting area, engaged in a staring competition. Our match is cut short by the sound of our names being called. Edward stares at me intently as the waitress leads us to our table.
Damn.
"You aren't gonna let this go. Are you?" I sigh.
"Nope," he shakes his head.
Fuck my life.
Bella's outfit on my profile.
All of my EW lovers!
You all demanded it. So, I'm writing an epi for EW. Emotional Warfare has been nominated for fic of the week by The Lemonade Stand. Voting is open for one more day. It would mean a lot if you guys showed support for my little story.