Author's Note: This chapter took me a while to write, due to the sensitive nature of the events that occur. I apologize for not getting this up sooner, but I hope that you enjoy. I'd like to also remind everyone that plagiarism is a crime – so please don't steal my work. If anyone finds someone who has, please let me know. On another note, Alli in the Meadow has published a new story, which all of you will LOVE. It's called "Strawberry Fields Forever". Seriously, I mean it when I say you'll love it. I've been her beta, and I'm completely in love with it :) So do take a chance to read it (and review…maybe mentioning that I sent you, lol). Anyway, enjoy this chapter and REVIEW! REVIEW! I'll be awarding one lucky reviewer of this chapter with a sneak peek into the future of this story!
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Chapter Nine: Set It On Fire, For All I Care
Bella's Diary:
It's been several days. I know that. But I just couldn't bring myself to write anything. I knew that I had to finish telling what happened that day. But I just couldn't face it. I just couldn't relive it. Nauseous feelings came creeping up every time I even thought about doing this.
But here I am. And I just have to get this over with. So I can properly record my life. Because I have to. Because no matter how sick I am to relive it, it's too much for me to bottle up inside. It makes me feel like I'm going to explode – combust under the pressure of it all.
So this is the rest of the story:
After I finished crying in my truck, I felt marginally better (although I also felt like a cry-baby dumbass). Crying always does that to make – makes me feel at peace, almost. Like it's cleansing a wound or something. And it made me realize that not everything was a bad as it seemed. Really, I just had to think about it. First, I didn't care about Mike. I'd never liked him, and couldn't care less if he ended up dead. I know that sounds harsh, but it's totally true. I wish more people would just open up and say it: we care very little about most other people. It wouldn't affect my life in any way if Mike just died. And that's just that. Then there's Jacob. It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything. Well, maybe, but this whole thing is so new. He's a guy that I knew as a kid, like to hang out with, and kissed. So no big deal. He doesn't have to be the savior that I sometimes wish for. And then, there's nothing else. Everything was fine. That's what I told myself as I drove home.
But of course I was a damn fool. I always am. I never fully give up hope that things won't get worse. I should, because nothing is ever going to get any better. Not for me.
Charlie was waiting for me. It was only 4:00, still early. Too early for him to be home. The yelling started the moment I shut the door of the truck.
"What the HELL did you do to Jacob?" He thundered at me. "Why the FUCK is Jacob being charged with assault against your coworker? Answer me that, Bella!"
I approached him slowly, carefully. "Well, Charlie, that's sort of complicated…"
"The fuck with complicated!" He screamed, grabbing a wad of my hair and hurling me into the house. "I want answers!"
"Charlie, please, Charlie!" I screamed, agony coursing through me at the intense pain in my head. If you've ever been dragged anywhere by your hair, you'll know what I mean. It hurts like holy hell.
"I tell you what, Bella," Charlie sneered. "You'll right this yourself by posting his bail. To start."
"Of course!" I responded meekly, tensed and waiting for Charlie to bat me around.
"Go to the bank. You're going to need a cashier's check for 10,000. Just to be sure." Charlie growled. "If the bail isn't that much, then I'll take the rest."
He threw me face-first into the stairs then, effectively knocking me unconscious for a few minutes.
…
I woke up to find Charlie gone. Glancing at my battered watch, I saw that I'd only been out for a little while – he must have left right after our little scene. Thankfully. I didn't think I could face anything more from him. Not at that moment.
I stood up swiftly, going out to my truck robotically. I didn't bother checking how I looked first – it didn't matter. I just had to go and get the check. Right now. I knew that I had the money, thank God. Unfortunately, it was for school – my new loans had come through brilliantly and I had finally gotten enough money to pay for school. Apparently I was now back at ground zero.
I had the check made to Charlie – I figured that was the way he wanted it. I'd give it to him, and let him bail Jacob out. I drove over to the police station, wordlessly giving Charlie the check. He didn't say anything at first, and I figured that if he wasn't at work right now he'd have hit me. Again.
"They're not letting Jacob out yet." Charlie said. "The Newton boy is in pretty serious condition, and they want to make sure he doesn't die. If he does, Jacob's got a lot more of a problem."
I said nothing, just looked at Charlie. I didn't know that things were that serious for Mike. I didn't realize that he could die. I didn't realize that Jacob could be in jail for a hell of a long time.
"It's your damn fault, you bitch." Charlie whispered, looking at me scathingly.
I turned at those words, unable to respond without either crying or slapping him. Neither was a good option.
Once I got home, things were worse. I don't want to write about it. I don't know how to write about it. I don't really know why I did it.
…
I went up to the bathroom, looking in the mirror at myself. I was worthless. I'd gotten Mike practically killed, and Jacob's life would never be the same. Not now. Charlie was right, and it was about time that I grew up and realized it. Everything was my fault. I was the reason for this. Charlie was probably right to do what he did to me.
And now I was lost for college money. I'd given practically every last cent I had to pay for this stupid situation. I knew that my current account balance - $10 – would not ever be enough. I couldn't pay for school. Not now. I'd never be able to find another loan in time.
Waves of depression crashed over me, and I felt as if I would drown in them. And endless sea of misery stretched before me, threatening to swallow me whole and never let me see the light again. So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I opened the medicine cabinet, and grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills we kept there. Holding the bottle in my hand, I knew that I could truly end it all. I could stop all of this shit right now. I could be done. I could quit. The thought was so relieving to me, that I didn't think anymore. I swallowed pill after pill, one after the other. I didn't know if I was seeking death, or merely sleep. But I would welcome whichever came to me.
Then I passed out on the bathroom floor.
…
I woke up the next day in the hospital. I didn't know how I got there. I didn't know what was happening. No one was in the room with me. I was alive.
I closed my eyes again, praying that this wasn't real. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to deal with this anymore. I refused to believe that Charlie found me and took me here. He would be much happier with me gone. Jacob would have taken me, but he was in jail. I didn't know what that left me.
Then I saw Alice standing in the doorway of my room, tears in her eyes, coffee in her hands.
EPOV:
How could anyone end an entry there? Fucking hell! I knew that this was clearly upsetting, but her diary made me feel like I was reading an infuriating novel that just stopped and wouldn't start again.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, realizing how close Bella had come to losing her life. I was terribly upset by the idea of a world without her, and I couldn't understand why. Why was this young woman suddenly becoming so important to me?
The computer. Her diary. I was completely obsessed. It was like an addiction. That must be it. I was too involved. I knew that I was lonely, but this was ridiculous. People were stupid, and above all they were foolish. This pathetic girl was proof of that. I'd made a deep mistake in letting myself delve into her life. I needed to now sever all ties with her. End my access to her computer. Never think about her again. Find some rich ass and take all their fucking money and get so fucking wasted I'd wake up three days later.
And that was that. I went about the business of locating another prospective gold mine, making the decision to forget Isabella Swan and the fucked up drama she had brought into my life. Things would be better now. I could go back to what I was. What I am.