I Own Nothing Twilight
The Painting and the WebCam Exhibit
"Bella!" Trevor crowed happily. "This piece is magnificent, the detail is exquisite, the light and dark colours are perfectly balanced, and the meaning behind your story speaks volumes." Trevor looked like a kid in a candy store, standing at different angles, appraising my work meticulously.
I was so unbelievably nervous about showing Trevor my painting. He was right about one thing, it did speak volumes.
I had selected the biggest canvas available, using two easels to prop the canvas up properly. My painting showed nine chairs placed around the very same dinning room table Trevor and I dined at every meal, in the past few months. Six figures resembled my family with blurred and obscured faces and empty plates, one of the nine chairs was broken and strung with cobwebs, layered with dust, with no plate setting at all. And finally Trevor and I sitting at either head of the table, perfect, pristine and happy, enjoying our meal of spaghetti and meatballs.
"Is this the first piece you have painted since you have been here?" Trevor asked still appraising my painting.
"It's been the only piece I have painted in almost a year," I whispered looking out into the snow covered forest. "I guess you could say I lost my muse, for a while. I don't paint unless I have an idea in mind or an inspiration of some sort."
"You have been painting this for weeks then?" He asked looking at me now, the painting forgotten.
"No, I finished it in the same night," I admitted flushing slightly. "Like I told you, in the beginning, I needed to know you better. My father is the only person, I usually show. I'm afraid others won't like the message behind my paintings."
"How many paintings do you have at home Bella?"
"I have no idea," I shrugged noncommittally. "There are times when I paint for days, then get bored or loose my inspirations."
"If you had to guess, how many do you think you would have?"
"Two hundred. Maybe more, maybe less, I don't know. Why does it matter?" I snapped at him, getting irritated with all of his questions. "It's not like anyone would care, after they say, Great job Bella or you're so talented Bella or its so dark and macabre Bella or God knows what else the would say about it!"
Trevor was standing in front of me in the blink of an eye, his hands on my shoulders, looking into my tear filled eyes. My good day was turning out to be a not so good day. And here I had been doing so well!
"Is that the real reason Bella?" He questioned me, scrutinizing my reactions. "Or do you not show people because, the one person you want there the most isn't there to give you the praise you want or deserve?"
"Have I ever told you I dislike it when you get all methodical on my ass?" I snapped at him, shrugging out of his hold. "And for your information...I don't know." I sighed, the irritation draining from me as quickly as it had filled me a moment ago. "Possibly, I painted a lot of my dark harboured feelings, raging anger, and bubbly happiness. Along with my deep depressions and what I considered to be rock bottom."
"Would you consider doing a live web cam exhibit?"
"You mean at my house, while I stay here?" I questioned, eyeing him cautiously.
"Yes, of course, hence the live web cam bit," he said lightly still intensely scrutinizing my every emotion or facial expression. "Would you consider doing it? Would it be easier, for you that way?"
"Yes...but I don't know," I murmured. "Things have to be set up properly, and I would need certain pieces out. Some pieces are deeply personal and not meant to be shown for everyone to see." The idea was becoming more and more of a reality to me by the second. "How would I set it up?" Curiosity was winning out and suddenly I wanted to kick myself for even giving his idea a second thought. This could be a very dangerous road to travel down.
"I could call a friend of mine in Seattle, he owns an art exhibit. Once Max sees your pieces, I am more than sure he would love to buy some of your pieces and put them up on display at his exhibit and maybe even sell some."
I don't know what came over me, but I managed to agree with Trevor and before the day was done everything was set up on Trevor's end with his friend Max Hawk.
My family would be going on a weekend hunting trip, and Trevor's friend Max would set up everything and he and I would do a Skype session, so we could agree or disagree on things like lighting, placing and backdrops.
Before I knew it, it was the day of the showing. I was so nervous I had to take a Gravol to keep myself from being sick.
"I knew they were setting up Bella's pieces," I heard Emmett say in awe. "But I wasn't expecting this..."
"You've seen all of these Carlisle?" My mother asked curiously.
"No, not by a long shot, some of these I have never seen before today. Bella doesn't usually like her work displayed so publicly. I can't imagine the courage it took her to let us see them."
"Oh...my...God," Alice gasped suddenly. "This one is so...beautiful." It was the picture I had painted from memory, from when I was a little girl, when Edward and I were in our meadow together, on a cloudless and bright spring day. The wild flowers were in full bloom and the tall grass was a lush and green. Edward was watching me pick flowers for my mother, as I always did when he took me to our meadow. "The details are amazing and the colour palate is perfect."
The next painting was a side by side of my two hearts. The diamond heart, that Edward given me for my seventh birthday, sided by my own heart. The contrast was amazing—something so unbreakable and clear, shining so brightly, casting off rainbows in the light. Against the horribly fragile, damaged, and dark heart that beat within my chest.
"Never in all my centuries, have I seen such exquisite beauty mixed with such darkness," I heard my father breathe. "It speaks for Bella so well."
The next piece was Edward's piano, sitting in the same room it has always been in. But the room was uncared for, the paint on the walls was peeling and chipping away, littering the old broken moulding wood floor like dust bunnies. The glass window walls were clouded in places where the glass was not broken or cracked. I am sure if you could breathe the air in that room, it would no doubt be stale and musty.
Yet, the piano itself was perfectly preserved. The glossy black lacquered wood was still bright and looked brand new. The black and ivory keys shone in the filtered light of the cracks and broken away pieces of glass, the bench pulled out to the precise length that Edward would need to sit and play comfortably, and the silver feet at the bottom brushed and polished to perfection.
"I-I-I...don't know what to say," I heard Edward—after all these years—say sounding dumbstruck. "It's so sad, but such hope shines through. I'm in awe of your magnificent talent, love."
I felt my heart stutter in my chest, and then take off like a rocket soaring through the sky...he liked them! He actually likes my paintings. I felt nearly delirious.
My second to last piece was also painted from memory. It was our first Christmas without Edward and I found my father sitting in Edward's room, on the end of his bed, hunched over, as if he was hiding away from everything in the room. I stood looking at my father from the open door way, in my Christmas dress, holding my father's Christmas present in my tiny little hands. The room looked as it did everyday, but certain places and pieces in Edward's room stood out more than the rest of the room. Like his wall of music was sitting proud though eerily silent on the far wall, his journal sat a little bit bigger on his desk, and the little nick-knacks that Edward had come into possession of from his time as an immortal stood out more than other things in the room. But it was really my father that stood out the most.
"How does she do it?" Rosalie asked no one in particular. "How does Bella take something so dark and sad and make it into something so...beautiful?"
"Hope, love and devotion," Jasper said seriously. "Every single day Edward has been gone, Bella has never once lost hope of his return. And every single day Edward has been gone, she still loved him—even though he was never here to love her back—and it only grew. Bella's devotion, loyalty and dedication to Edward have never wavered, and my guess is that it never will."
The last picture that had been put on display was my most powerful and hidden paintings, then all of my others. It was the biggest of all. It was me, I had painted. Me as a teenager wearing a beautiful fitted royal blue party dress, holding a six year old version of myself in the same exact party dress, only the six year old version of me had a gaping whole in her chest where her heart should have been. Her dress stained with crimson, her hands covered in the very same crimson that stained her dress, and crimson lay in a pool at our feet, which had dripped from her hands and arms, along with the gaping hole in her chest. Offering her childhood heart to Edward, only his back was turned to us, he was too far away already, to accept the bleeding organ—He had already started walking away from us.
"You're daughter is wonderfully talented," Max's voice spoke from some place off camera. "A truly exquisite eye for detail, don't you agree? Such raw and powerful emotions, for someone so young, and troubled."
"Who are you?" I heard Rosalie snap at Max.
"My apologies, for being so rude," Max said sounding apologetic. "My name is Max, Max Hawk. I am the owner and curator at the Art Exhibit in Seattle, Trevor called me to set this little private showing. I owed him a few favours."
"Bella's always been talented," My mother agreed suddenly. "For as long as I can remember. This entire first floor was her doing, the colour and textures, the furnishings to the art on the walls."
"And she always does a wonderful job," I heard Edward say with a little taciturn in his voice.
"Ah, so you are her muse," Max sighed happily.
"I don't know that, that is an entirely good thing..."
"See!" I exploded forgetting about the live webcam feed. "This is why I didn't want people to see...this is why I have kept everything bottled up over Edward!" I shrieked at Trevor who was standing still as stone, with shock clearly written all over his face. "It was so much safer that way...and you...you did this!" I shrieked again at the top of my lungs, grabbing the first thing I saw and chucked it across the room. The crystal vase shattering into a million pieces, around the room, hundreds of rainbows filled the room, when the light hit each shattered piece of crystal.
I was crushed.
Every move I had ever made regarding Edward had gone from bad to worse and didn't seem to be getting better any time soon.
I ran from the room, rushing past the camera, with tears running down my face. I ran straight into my Aunt Carmen's body, her arms wrapping around me in an instant as she quickly carried me to another room. I cried long and hard, letting out all of my pain and suffering, blubbering muffled and incoherent words and sentences into my Aunt's chest.
Then without even really thinking about what I was saying, I uttered four little words that I had not said in what felt like in an eternity.
"I want my Daddy!"
Please Review!
A/N: Freaking Epic Chapter...If I don't say so myself. I had this chapter written weeks ago, I just had to patiently wait to get to this point in the story. I am dying to know what you think about each of Bella's paintings and see if your guess was right about the painting that Bella showed Trevor.
I am so happy with how this story is turning out so far. I am thinking of making the flip side of this story from Edward's Point Of View. But don't get your hopes up on that any time soon. I am not a hundred percent sure I want to do it yet.